the novelty of the young teacher's quiet manner, clear
eyes, broad shoulders, and assured bearing, or the idea of the
examination with which he undertook to begin the session, he had a week
of surprising quiet. The school filled day after day, and even the noted
Dennison boys, from Jacob Dennison, the strapping six-foot senior, down
to Dave, who was the youngest and smartest of the three, appeared duly
every morning, and treated the young teacher with reasonable civility,
if with somewhat insolent familiarity.

The day of the examination Squire Rawson attended, solemn and pompous
with a superfluity of white shirt-front. Brief as was the examination,
it revealed to Keith an astonishing state of ignorance of the simplest
things. It was incredible to him that, with so many hours of so-called
study, so little progress had been made. He stated this in plain
language, and outlined his plan for shorter hours and closer
application. A voice from the boys' side muttered that the owner did not
see anything the matter with the old hours. They were good enough for
them. Keith turned quickly:

"What is that?"

There was no answer.

"What is that, Dennison?" he demanded. "I thought I heard you speak."

"Wall, if you did, I warn't speakin' to you," said Jacob Dennison,
surlily.

"Well, when you speak in school, address yourself to me," said Keith. He
caught Euphronia Tripper's eyes on him.

"I mought an' I moughtn't," said Jacob, insolently.

"I propose to see that you do."

Jacob's reply was something between a grunt and a sneer, and the school
rustled with a sound very much like applause.

Next morning, on his arrival at school, Keith found the door fastened on
the inside. A titter from within revealed the fact that it was no
accident, and the guffaw of derision that greeted his sharp command that
the door should be opened immediately showed that the Dennison boys were
up to their old tricks.

"Open the door, Jake Dennison, instantly!" he called.

The reply was sung through the keyhole:

"'Ole Molly hyah, what you doin' dyah? Settin' in de cordner, smokin' a
ciggyah.'"

It was little Dave's voice, and was followed by a puff of tobacco smoke
through the keyhole and a burst of laughter led by Phrony Tripper.

An axe was lying at the woodpile near by, and in two minutes the door
was lying in splinters on the school-house floor, and Keith, with a
white face and a dangerous tremble in his voice, was calling the amazed