The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1881-10-13
HOW MISS JENKINS GOT OUT OF
IT.n

It was writing afternoon"-said
Miss Jenkins-and my scholars were
new. If you had ever been teacher,
my dear, you would realize what the
combinations of those two simple facts
implies-the WEAKNESS of body and the
utter vexation of spirit. First, there S
the holding of the pen. If there's one
thing more than another in which
scholars exhibit their own origin
ality, it is in managing a pen-holder.
Then, the ink. To some it was simply
ink, nothing more. To others it seemed
an irresistible temper. whispering of
unique designs, grotesque or otherwise,
to be worked sut upon desk or Jacket,
or perhaps upon the back of one small
hand.
Well, upon the afternoon of which
am going to tell you. had more cor
recting to do than usual, for some of
the scholars were stupid, and couldn't
do as wished; and others were care
less, and didn't try. What with the
looking, and stopping. and continual
showing, felt my patience giving way.
and when saw that three of the larg-
est boys had left the page upon which
they should have been practicing, and
were making unknown characters" in
different parts of their books, l lost it
utterly. ..Tlat / will not have" said
1, sharply. II will punish any boy
who makes a mark upon any but the
lesson page"
They were very still for a while.
Nothing was heard but the scratch.
scratching of pens, and the sound of
my footsteps as l walked up and down
the aisles. Involuntarily l found my
self studying the hands before me as if
they had been faces. There was Harry
Sanford's large and plump, but flabby
withal, and not over-clean. His ms
stood weakly upon their legs, seeming
to feel the need of other letters to prop
them up.
Vs.:ter Lanes, red and chapped. with
..Eo.t. st,il.bed fingers. nails bitten off
to me quick, had vet certain air of
sturdy dignity; and his ''n's,' if not
handsome, were certainly plain. and
looked as if they knew their place, and
meant to keep it.
Tommy Silver's. long and limp. be-
smeared with ink from palm to nail.
vainly strove to keep time with a
tongue which wagged. uncertainty, this
way and that, and which should have
been red, but was black. like the fin
gers. His ''n's'' had neither form nor
comeliness, and might have stood for
"y's," or even ..v's." quite as well.
Then there was Hugh Bright.s hand,
hard and rough with work. holding the
pen as if it never meant to let go, but
his ms" were ms" and could not be
mistaken for anything else.
At length came to Frank Dunbar 8
desk-dear little Frank, who had been
real help and comfort to me since the
day when he bashfully knocked at my
door, with books and slate in hand.
His hand was white and shapely; fin
gers spotless, nails immaculate, and
his .'n's''-but what was it that sent n
cold chill over me as l looked at themP
All, my dear, if ! should live thou
sand years, could never tell you how
l felt when 1 found that Frank Dun
bar had written half dozen letters
upon the opposite page OF his copy
book!
'.Why. Frank" said 1. show did that
happenp''
II did it.''
"You did it before l spoke?' said
clinging to forlorn hope.
mo. m; 1 did it afterward. l for
got"
'Oh, Frank my good, good boy!
How could you? l shall have to punish
YOU"
'Yes, 'm''-the brave blue eyes look.
ing calmly mp into my face. :.
''Very well; you may so to the desk. y
He went, and 1 walked the aisles
again-up and down, up and down, Civ
ing caution here or II word of advice
there, but not knowing, in the leas,
what was about. My thoughts were
all with the flaxen- haired culprit. who
stood bravely awaiting his penalty.
Vainly l strove to listen to my inward
monitor. 1t seemed suddenly to have
become two-voiced-the one tantaliz
ing the other soothing-and, Of course.
| the tones were conflicting.
..You must punish him." said one.
s.You mustn't" said the other.
'.He deserves it."
"IIe doesn't"
He disobeyed you fatty"
"But he forgot-and he has always
been so good"
..But you promised. You have given
| your word. Here are thirty boys tC
whom you should be an example. Dc
you think they are not watching you:
Look at them!'
did look at them. Walter Lanes
sharp black eyes and Harry Sanford's
sleepy orbs were fixed curiously upon
me. Nor were these all. Gray eyes
blue eyes, hazel and brown Gves-al
were regarding me intently; ! almos
fancied that they looked at me plying
ly. l could not bear it.
..Attend TO your writing. boys" Ther
1 walked slowly up to the desk.
You see how it is" said the trouble
some voice. you will certainly have
to punish him."
But had thought Of a possible plar