glancing back with terrified eyes from the school-house door, seemed
to see the boy lift the grown man from the ground, and the two whirl
a second in the air before they crashed down, and so declared
afterwards. Jerome clung to his opponent like a wild-cat, a small but
terrific body all made up of nerves and muscles and electric fire. He
wound his arms with a violent jerk as of steel around 'Lisha's neck;
he bunted him with a head like a cannon-ball; he twisted little wiry
legs under the hollows of 'Lisha's knees. The two came down together
with a great thud. The teacher and the scholars came rushing to the
door. Elmira wailed and sobbed in the background. The slight boy was
holding great 'Lisha on the ground with a strength that seemed
uncanny.

'Lisha's nose was bleeding; he breathed hard; his eyes, upturned to
Jerome, had a ghastly roll. "Let me--up, will ye?" he choked,
faintly.

"Will you ever say anything like that again?"

"Let me up, will ye?" 'Lisha gave a convulsive gasp that was almost
a sob.

"Jerome!" called the teacher. She was a young woman from another
village, mildly and assentingly good, virtue having, like the moon,
only its simply illuminated side turned towards her vision. Weakly
blue-eyed and spectacled, hooked up primly in chaste drab woollen and
capped with white muslin, though scarcely thirty, she stood among her
flock and eyed the fierce combatants with an utter lack of command of
the situation. She was a country minister's daughter, and had never
taught until her father's death. This was her first school, and to
its turbulent elements she brought only the precisely limited lore of
a young woman's seminary of that day, and the experiences of early
piety.

Looking at the struggling boys, she thought vaguely of that hymn of
Isaac Watts's which treats of barking and biting dogs and the
desirability of amity and concord between children, as if it could in
some way be applied to heal the breach. She called again fruitlessly
in her thin treble, which had been raised in public only in
neighborhood prayer-meetings: "Jerome! Jerome Edwards!"

"Will you say it again?" demanded Jerome of his prostrate adversary,
with a sharp prod of a knee.

After a moment of astonished staring there was a burst of mirth among
the pupils, especially the older boys. 'Lisha was not a special
favorite among them--he was too good-looking, had too much money to
spend, and was too much favored by the girls. In spite