howled and whined in a way that made study
impossible. But one day the boy was not to be coaxed, and the teacher
grabbed the dog by the scruff of the neck, and flung him through a window
so forcibly that he never came back. And now a woman was to teach the
school: she was only a little woman and yet the boys obeyed her, and I had
come to think that a woman could teach school nearly as well as a man,
when the awful announcement was made that thereafter every week we were to
have a Friday Afternoon. There were to be no lessons; everybody was to
speak a piece, and then there was to be a spelling-match--and that was
all. But heavens! it was enough.

Monday began very blue and gloomy, and the density increased as the week
passed. My mother had drilled me well in my lines, and my big sister was
lavish in her praise, but the awful ordeal of standing up before the whole
school was yet to come.

Thursday night I slept but little, and all Friday morning I was in a
burning fever. At noon I could not eat my lunch, but I tried to, manfully,
and as I munched on the tasteless morsels, salt tears rained on the
johnnycake I held in my hand. And even when the girls brought in big
bunches of wild flowers and cornstalks, and began to decorate the
platform, things appeared no brighter.

Finally, the teacher went to the door and rang the bell: nobody seemed to
play, and as the scholars took their seats, some, very pale, tried to
smile, and others whispered, "Have you got your piece?" Still others kept
their lips working, repeating lines that struggled hard to flee.

Names were called, but I did not see who went up, neither did I hear what
was said. At last, my name was called: it came like a clap of thunder--as
a great surprise, a shock. I clutched the desk, struggled to my feet,
passed down the aisle, the sound of my shoes echoing through the silence
like the strokes of a maul. The blood seemed ready to burst from my eyes,
ears and nose.

I reached the platform, missed my footing, stumbled, and nearly fell. I
heard the giggling that followed, and knew that a red-haired boy, who had
just spoken, and was therefore unnecessarily jubilant, had laughed aloud.

I was angry. I shut my fists so that the nails cut my flesh, and glaring
straight at his red head shot my bolt: "I know not how others may feel,
but sink or swim, live or die, survive or perish, I give my heart and my
hand to this vote. It is my living sentiment and by the blessing of