The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1888-06-27

lief that she and her brother and chill
dren would be happy and contented in
their new home.
Time passed. Few, if any, were the
visits to the shabby old house in the
lonely lane. There were no visits from
it-whether because the widow was too
retiring or too busy, because she was
not invited, or because she was too i'll
and weak, | can not say. Thomas Van
Cleve was at first sprightly and ener-
getic. 1t seemed that he was trying to
make acquaintance and friends, though
he was not much encouraged. With
his sisters scrawny team and the i'm
plements brought from Pennsylvania
he plowed few acres of the best land
and sowed some wheat. But presently
he began to show uneasiness. The
" fiji" was coming on. One morning,
he and his travelling companion, the
big gray-aud-white dog, were absent
gone on the road againl
On cold, blustery Monday morning
in November, after our school-master
had arrived and settled his awkward
squad at their books, knock was
heard at the door, and in were ushered
a clear, keen-eyed young fellow, fol-
lowed by timid, brown-haired little
girl. The boy carried an arm-load of
books, states, sponges and rulers. They
were Robert Rankin and his sister
Katie. We all, the children of sub
stantial farmers, were clothed by care
full mothers in winter costumes, which,
though homespun and of clumsy cut,
were snug and warm, while the gar
ments of the young strangers, though
clean, were pitifully scant, worn and
thin. During the morning the new
scholars were the objects of our sharp
scrutiny and whispered criticism. AT
recess time they were more freely and
Familiarity ogled and commented on. 1t
was a trying ordeal for them. The
leading tormentor of the school, glib
tongued girl, began the attack with
sarcastic, cutting remarks that raised
laugh. She was not long without allies.
To the dishonor of the school be it said
that, of the twenty-five or thirty girls
and boys present that day, there was
not one to utter word of remonstrance
in behalf of the helpless victims, who
looked appealingly into this face and
that for a friendly glance, but in vain.
Even the teacher, dull old man, did
not interfere. " For shame." cried
voice in my heart But | quickly
smothered it and joined the laughing
wretches. | have often heard that
voice since, like whispering echo,
when it was too late to undo the wrong.
| have reasoned about that morning,
too, aud have come to the conclusion
that we were a pack of young savages.
When school was again called the
Rankin boy was white with rage under
the insults offered and his sister was in
tears. These were the children sick
mother had brought over the mountains,
to be educated in quiet, respectable
neighborhood.
AT dinner-time Robert, after some
hesitation, left his sister at the school
yard gate and sped down the road as
fast as his legs could carry him. He
went to look after his mother, who was
alone at home, nearly a mile away.
The distance was too great for Katie to
traverse in the time allowed. She
watched him longingly until he disap-
peared over hill, then, with brave
effort, entered the house, and in her
timid, gentle way essayed to make
friends with the girls. BY this time a
feeling of pity for the forlorn one be-
gan to manifest itself. Kindlier words
were spoken. The shabby clothing was
seemingly unnoticed. But the knife
had already struck home. The smiles
and the hazel eyes were pleading for
love, but the heart felt very sore. Rob-
ert returned, hot and painting, with
kiss from mother to daughter and
a hopeful word.
That evening at dismissal the school
relapsed into the savage state. The
strangers were attacked with redoubled
fury. AT length the boy, furious with
pain and anger, his face deadly pale
and grasping in one of his clenched
hands an open knife, turned at the
gate, defied his prosecutors and dared
them to utter another insulting word.
His sister chung in terror to his men
acing arm and with tears begged him
to desist. Her prayer prevailed. The
savages, awed by the scene, permitted
their victims to proceed home without
further molestation.
Philip Moss was not at school that
day In passing by his home heard a
mutlled drumming in the barn, and
rightly surmised that he was helping
his father to winnow his grain.
The Rankins did not appear next
day, nor the next; but on the third
Robert came at noon for their books.
Philip was present. He asked Robert
his reason for leaving school. The lat
ter answered by showing note from
his mother to the teacher, asking that
her children be excused from further
attendance, as she desired their pres.
90
satisfied with this. He suspected some
thing of what had taken place, and
pressed his new acquaintance for an
explanation, which was reluctantly
given. Philip pondered the matter
awhile and then said:
You and your sister come along tC
school. I'll stand by you. The boy
who offers word or wink against you