warm summer afternoon; a lazy breeze stole through the windows
of a little district schoolhouse, lifting the curtains, and rustling the
leaves of the copy-books that lay open on all the desks.
Thirty or forty scholars of all ages were bending over their writing,
quiet and busy; the voice of the master, as he passed about among the
writers, was the only sound.
Perhaps you might not have thought it possible, but I assure you, that
this hot little schoolroom has its heroes and heroines as certainly as
many another place which might have seemed far more pretending.
The bell rang for the writing to be laid by; and now came the last
exercise of the day, the spelling, in which nearly all the school
joined. At the head of the class was a delicate little girl, whose
bright eyes and attentive air showed that she prized her place, and
meant to keep it.
Presently a word which had passed all the lower end of the class, came
to Eunice. The word was _privilege_. "P-r-i-v, priv--i, privi--l-e-g-e,
lege, privilege," spelt Eunice. But the teacher, vexed with the mistakes
of the other end of the class, misunderstood and passed it. The little
girl looked amazed, the bright color came into her cheeks, and she
listened eagerly to the next person, who spelt it again as she had done.
"Right," said the teacher; "take your place."
"I spelt it so," whispered Eunice partly to herself; the tears springing
to her eyes as she passed down. But too timid to speak to the master,
she remained in her place, determining soon to get up again. But her
trials were not yet over.
Many expedients had been tried in the school to keep out that arch-enemy
of all teachers--whispering. At length the following plan was adopted:--
The first whisperer was stood upon the floor in front of the teacher's
desk. Here he acted as a monitor; as soon as he detected another
whispering, he took his seat, and the next offender kept a sharp lookout
to find some one to take _his_ place; for, at the close of school, the
scholar who had the whisperer's place was punished very severely.
This plan appeared to operate very well; every one dreaded to be found
last on the floor; but, though it secured an orderly school, many of the
parents and scholars doubted its justice.
The boy who was on the floor when Eunice lost her place, was an unruly,
surly fellow, who had often before smarted for his faults; and as school
drew near its close, he began to tremble. The instant E
|