ved; he grew; he began
to fill out better his father's clothes, to which he had succeeded.
The first time Jerome wore his poor father's best coat to school--Ann
had set in the buttons so it folded about him in ludicrous fashion,
bringing the sleeves forward and his arms apparently into the middle
of his chest--one of the big boys and two big girls at his side
laughed at him, the boy with open jeers, the girls with covert
giggles behind their hands. They were standing in front of the
school-house at the top of the long hill when Jerome was ascending it
with Elmira. It was late and cold, and only these three scholars were
outside. The girls, who were pretty and coquettish, had detained this
great boy, who was a man grown.

Jerome went up the long hill under this fire of covert ridicule.
Elmira, behind him, began to cry, holding up one little shawled arm
like a wing before her face. Jerome never lowered his proud head; his
unwinking black eyes stared straight ahead at the three; his face was
deadly white; his hands twitched at his sides.

The great boy was 'Lisha Robinson; the girls were the pretty twin
daughters of a farmer living three miles away, who had just brought
them to school on his ox-sled. Their two sweet, rosy faces, full of
pitiless childish merriment for him, and half-unconscious maiden
wiles towards the young man at their side, towards whom they leaned
involuntarily as they tittered, aroused Jerome to a worse frenzy than
'Lisha's face with its coarse leer.

All three started back a little as he drew near; there was something
in his unwinking eyes which was intimidating. However, 'Lisha had his
courage to manifest before these girls. "Say, Jerome," he
shouted--"say, Jerome, got any room to spare in that coat? 'cause
Abigail Mack is freezin'."

"Go 'long, 'Lisha," cried Abigail, sputtering with giggles, and
giving the young man a caressing push with her elbow.

'Lisha, thus encouraged, essayed further wit. "Say, Jerome, s'pose
you can fill out that coat of yours any quicker if I give ye half my
dinner? Here's a half a pie I can spare. Reckon you don't have much
to eat down to your house, 'cept chicken-fodder, and that ain't very
fat'nin'."

Jerome came up. All at once through the glow of his black eyes
flashed that spiritual lightning, evident when purpose is changed to
action. The girls screamed and fled. 'Lisha swung about in a panic,
but Jerome launched himself upon his averted shoulder. The girls,