|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 40
"And I too," chimed in Nancy. "I am glad the Australians prize the
pretty little creatures. It's nice to be useful and handsome too."
Then both girls said good-bye and ran home.
A few days later Polly announced to Miss Kathy that she was ready to
read the long promised tale.
"Mother says you will be in the back room sewing this afternoon, so I
will bring my little rocker and sit here and read to you. My book is
full of beautiful stories about children and birds and bees."
I too anticipated a pleasant afternoon, for my cage still hung within
the doorway where I could hear and see all that took place in both
apartments. Soon after dinner Miss Kathy appeared in the back room
with her thimble and scissors and seated herself at the work-table.
Polly drew up her chair beside her. The book she held was a pretty
little affair bound in red with a silver inscription on the covers, and
after being duly admired by both, Polly opened it and selected the
following story, which she read aloud:
THE MOUNT AIRY SCHOOL.
The breath of blossoms was in the air and spicy scents from the woods
that lined the lane on each side came floating to the delighted senses
of a little girl who drove slowly along the road leading to Mount Airy
School.
Young horses frisked in the pastures or came whinnying to the fence as
she passed. Lazy cows cropped the grass at the sides of the road,
pushing their heads into the zigzag corners of the rail fence in
pursuit of the tender clover that had crept through from the thrifty
meadows.
The school was a little brick structure standing back a short distance
from the road, with a playground on each side as enchantingly beautiful
as it was novel to Alice Glenn, the little girl who had come from town
by invitation of the teacher to visit the school. Accustomed to the
severer discipline of the graded school of which she was a member, the
unconventional ways of these children amused the young visitor greatly.
But who could study on a morning like this, with the delicious warbling
of the birds sounding in one's ears?
Who could be expected to take an interest in nouns and adverbs while
his heart was out in the woods with the bugs and bees or with the sheep
over in yonder field, whose ba-a, ba-a, was borne in distinctly through
the open door?
"I'm sure I would never have my lessons if I went to school here in the
summer time," thought Alice as she glanced over the room. "The country
is too lovely to be spoiled by school books. Why, that boy has a
wounded bird in his desk! I wonder if Miss Harper knows?" And a
moment after, Alice met the bold, defiant look of the boy himself,
which seemed to say, "Well, what are you going to do about it? That
bird belongs to me."
The history class being called at this moment the big boy got up,
shoved the little creature to the farthest corner of his desk and
giving Alice a parting scowl, went forward to recite his lesson.
Notwithstanding her desire to befriend the feathered captive she soon
became interested in the class and could scarcely refrain from laughing
outright at the answer to the teacher's question, "What happened at
Bunker Hill?"
"Old Bunker died."
This was bawled out by a freckled-faced boy, who reminded her of a
rabbit, owing to a fashion he had of twitching his nose and keeping it
in motion in some mysterious way. Even the teacher wanted to laugh,
but assuming her sternest manner she speedily restored order.
It was during the arithmetic lesson that Alice's heart went out in pity
for the youthful instructor. The majority of the pupils were bright;
but an unruly fraction, one child, refused to comprehend.
"If a family consume a barrel of flour in nine weeks, what part of a
barrel will they use in one week, Matilda?"
Matilda rolled her blue eyes up to the ceiling as if to find the answer
there, then studied a board in the floor for several minutes, then
slowly shook her head and sat down. A dozen hands were raised, and the
teacher nodded permission to a small boy who analyzed it successfully.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|