Year: 1871

lowest, third person he loves" drawled the
head bov in the class. The next. a little
girl, took it up promptly. "Plural-frst
person we love, second person you love,
third person they love-


And we all love-"


The interruption came in whisper loud
enough to be heard all over the room.
causing the older boys and girls to smile
and giggle; and the teacher, Miss Olive
Burnett, looked up quickly, glancing alon 2
the row of large scholars ON the back seat
young men and women-for this was a
country school and in the winter She
had come to look for trouble in that quar-
ter. Every day some fresh aggravation,
some new Infringement of the rules and
otfense against the discipline, made il
hard work for her, girl of eighteen to
maintain her authority over forty turbulent
spirits, constantly melted to insubortina-
ton by the example of their acknowledged
| leader, Scott Goldrck.


He sat there, at the farther end of the
bench, quite in the corner. IA good-looking
young man of twenty, with curly chestnut
hair, and mutinous curve of the lip. with
head bent low over his slate, and fingers
busy in figuring out some difficult problem
in arithmetic But Miss Burnett was not
deceived by the apparently studious air.
And there was an undertone of resolute
determination in her voice as she said,
looking quietly over the forty faces before
her:


''Ihese interruptions must come to an
end at once. There is n point where for
| bearance ceases to be virtue, and l think
it has passed. From this point | shall en-
force every rule of the school. The pen
atty tor the next interruption of this kind
Will be twelve strokes Of the ruler" care
lessly balancing the slip of cherry wood in
her hand.


The clear bright face in the corner was
lifted for a moment, the dark hazel ewes
looked steadily into Miss Burnett's blue
eyes only for moment, the space of a
breath; then the hand went on again
steadily with that endless maze of figures,
and Miss Burnett went on with her work


Hard work it was, especially hard work
to-day. All day long the vivid scarlet had
burned in her cheeks, making her passing
lovely, while her temples throbbed with
pain, and one of the children, feeling her
feverish touch, wondered "what made
Miss Burnett's hand so hot" She must
not give up though There was too much
depending ON her for that. A helpless
mother and two little sisters, hardly more
than babies yet, all dependent for the
bread they ate upon the overworked young
teacher Truly failure here would be her
disaster.


But she must not fail Would those in
terminable lessons never be finished? She
wanted to go home and rest.


Two hours of tolerable quiet and order.
and the days work was nearly ended,
when in the midst of the last recitation
came that interrupting whisper, plainly
heard all over the room.
For an instant Olive Burnett's heart
failed her. CouM she muster courage
enough to ferule Scott Goldrick, the oldest
and largest boy in tn, school-a man
grown? The thought came at once that it
was unmanly for him to try her so. But
right OF wrong, her word was passed and
must be maintained now or lost altogether.
To falter now was to give up all. So cali
ing up all her nerve. though her head
throbbed dizzily, she closed the book quiet
ly, dismissed the class, and faced the
school as she said:


The scholar who whispered that last
time, will please step forward


There was dead silence for an instant,
then Scott Goldrick lett his seat and walked
up to where the young teacher stood No
boyish mischief was in his manner now,
no mocking Difference, no shade of def
ance, but, instead, a quiet manliness that
was harder to bear than bravado would
have been.


You can understand. Mr.. Goldrick.
that this is not a pleasant duty to me, =?
her voice steady, but lower than usual, so
low that some who were listening, did not
catch the words at all.


For an answer he bowed and held out
his hand. They were counted out faith
fully-twelve strokes-no more, no less
Did he know how every one hurt her
Perhaps he did, for his eyes We're on her
face all the while, and when the last one
was given he walked back to his seat, a
little graver than before, that was all.
And the rest of the scholars opened eyes
of amazement. They had expected high
words and open defiance from the first.
This new genteness was not fear; they
knew that well. Fear and Scott Goldrick's
name never went together. 1t was vol
untary submission to discipline, why they
might as we'll all yield, too


Miss Burnett heard him talking to some
of the older scholars outside the door after
tue TOll WAS called anu Tue ScnOOl ulSIIllSS-
ed. What resist ladyP You'll never
see me do that. Besides, deserve the
feruling for breaking the rules | didn't
mean to interrupt the last time, though
I'm going away tomorrow to my uncle's
counting house in c." Then the door
closed, and Miss Burnett heard no more.


"Going away" she said the words over
and over to herself, sitting there with her
head laid down on the table before her.
Going awayn What would she do, miss
ing day by day the bright face in the corn
er, and the voice that, in spite of aggra-
vations without number, was still the
pleasantest voice in the world to herp
What should she dop


The great pile of copy-books there on
the table were still untouched when, half
an hour later, some one opened the door
and came in-some one whose step she
knew so well. Scott Goldrick had come
back for his books and slate. But she did
not lift her head. He stood before her
presently with the books on his arm and