The Indianapolis journal., 1886-04-04
Psiaiss by Special Arraagsmeat- Copyrighted 1856.
LITTLE MISS JOYCE.
A STORY BY MEM LINTON.

We lived in School District No. A. It had
gained an unenviable reputation for disorderly
conduct, and it was difficult to secure and keep
teacher for any length of time This state OF
affairs had been brought about by several half
grown boys, well in their teens. who had never
had any training at home, and, consequently,
were ungoyernable at school and a nuisance in
the community The last teacher had resigned
and gone away in disgust before the term was
out. Ny father was one of the board of direct
crs The board met with only ono application
to consider. When my father came homo we
besieged him with questions concerning the new
teacher.
II think" said he, with mock gravity, ''we1l
have order out Of chaos. now; there's look in
her eye that means business"
''Reuben!' said my mother with anxious solic-
itude. wouldn't it have been better to have
hired man teacher this termp
I'VE had 70 choice, my dear. There was no
other applicant And now, buys turning to
Mark and me. .'wh.n you can't be gentlemen at
school, putting good deal of emphasis on ths
word, insisting that it covered the whole ground
'In put you to work on the farm" That eau
zion was all we needed. We knew he meant
business, too.
This was the middle of the week. There was
nothing seen or heard of Miss Joyce-that was
her name-till the following Monday morning
We we're gathered in little knots about the
gchool-yard, wondering what she would be like.
anyway, when a carriage drove up lady alight-
ed, walked briskly up the path, throwing
cherry good morning right and left. unlocked
the school house door aud went in. The driver
followed her with large basket. I think if q
bomb-shell had exploded in our midst, we would
not have been more completely amazed
"Pooh!" said Nat Green, the leader of the out
lawry, at last drawing long breath, II could
pick her up with one hand and put her in my
pocket
''Whar dat muskeeter seed gwine erlong dis
er walk?" cried the mimic Sam Wilder, running
little ways and jumping up and clapping his
hands together.
"Uncle Sambo! where's your glasses9" said
Pete Dorsey. 'sYour mosquito is only harm
less little gnat."
These sallies excited peals of laughter, which
had scarcely died away when the bell rang and
we marched in and took our places 1t would be
difficult to say just what the scholars expected to
10 sec In the new teacher.
That IL was something entirely different from
what they had anticipated their faces readily
showed. But can only speak definitely III re-
gard to myself. Remembering what my father
had said, there's look in her eye that means
business and also remembering that her prede-
cessors as far as knew, had all been of generous
proportions. had framed this portrait in my
minds eye"
A tall, raw-boned, muscular woman of at least
shirty-fye, with steel-blue eyes, to whom the
darkest deception was as the lace of cobweb
And there she was, not my portrait surely but
the new teacher nevertheless, and not a whit
taller than our Mary Marthy. I never read
Robert Browning's Flight of the Duchess
when he sketched
1.-THE smallest woman alive"
Without thinking of her as she stood on the
platform that Monday morning. A diminutive
form, but of perfect symmetry, face all sun
shine and dimples, laughing brown eyes and an
abundance of fluffy, gold brown hair, rolled into
a glistening coil high on the head This last.
presume. was a device to increase her stature.
She did not look a day over eighteen, but we af
terward learned that she had just turned her
twenty-fifth birthday. When she spoke it
like listening to chime Of bells. so musical and
so perfectly modulated were the tones of her
voice. She spoke with simple directness
MY dear pupils, am Miss Joyce, your teach
er for this term. am very glad to see you all.
have brought heart full of love for you and
my work, and know we shall get along admir-
ably together and do each other good It is al
ways my custom to open school each morning by
repeating the Lords Prayer and asking His guild
ance and blessing on our efforts for the day We
will repeat it together, please"
She followed the beautiful prayer to the end,
but not voice joined hers. / know you could
have heard pin drop, the silence was pro-
found. I had been accustomed to hear it
repeated in our family circle and in
the pulpit as far back as I could
and pathos as that. 1t was an inspiration and
deftly brought out such realistic, spiritual mean
ings as had never dreamed it possessed / felt
my heart made so tender that knew | could
shed tears il were not boy twelve years old
and too big for that sort of thing Oh, wonder
ful magnetic powersl And will draw all men
unto rae," said the Man of Sorrows. The spirit
of tho Master working in midst. /
threw one hurried glance about the room.
Mary Marthy was wiping. her eyes with the
corner OF her blue gingham apron; st.
Glars face-usually his black eyes We're
dancing with mischief-wore a solemn, wistful
look that had never seen on it before. Nat
Green had his back to the school and was look
Ing out of the window across rolling stretch of
prairie motioness stone. / knew some other
hearts were made tender as well as my own.
This knowledge only tended to enhance the effect
On myself could bear it no longer My eyes
were already overfowing. I leaned my elbows
on my desk, and dropped my face on my hands,
while the big drops fell in little pitiful pool at
my feet.
was not conscious of the lapse of time till a
soft hand was laid on my head and her voice
that diviney inspired voice-said, with thrill
ing earnestness.
g And as He passed by He saw Matthew sitting
az the receipt of custom, and said unto him. Fol-
low me. And be arose and followed Him. Be
as ready, my boy, as thy namesake of old, to fol-
low the call of the Master"
II she is living anywhere in the wide world,
and reads this story, ! would like her to know