Volume III Part 14 (1/2)
I writ his parents a postal-kyard, He could stay 'tel Spring-time come; And Aprile first, as I rickollect, Was the day we s.h.i.+pped him home!
Most o' his relatives, sence then, Has either give up, er quit, Er jest died off; but I understand He's the same old color yit!
MORRIS AND THE HONORABLE TIM[3]
BY MYRA KELLY
On the first day of school, after the Christmas holidays, teacher found herself surrounded by a howling mob of little savages in which she had much difficulty in recognizing her cherished First-Reader Cla.s.s. Isidore Belchatosky's face was so wreathed in smiles and foreign matter as to be beyond identification; Nathan Spiderwitz had placed all his trust in a solitary suspender and two unstable b.u.t.tons; Eva Kidansky had entirely freed herself from restraining hooks and eyes; Isidore Applebaum had discarded shoe-laces; and Abie Ashnewsky had bartered his only necktie for a yard of ”shoe-string” licorice.
Miss Bailey was greatly disheartened by this reversion to the original type. She delivered daily lectures on nail-brushes, hair-ribbons, shoe polish, pins, b.u.t.tons, elastic, and other means to grace. Her talks on soap and water became almost personal in tone, and her insistence on a close union between such garments as were meant to be united, led to a lively traffic in twisted and disreputable safety-pins. And yet the First-Reader Cla.s.s, in all other branches of learning so receptive and responsive, made but halting and uncertain progress toward that state of virtue which is next to G.o.dliness.
Early in January came the report that ”Gum Shoe Tim” was on the war-path and might be expected at any time. Miss Bailey heard the tidings in calm ignorance until Miss Blake, who ruled over the adjoining kingdom, interpreted the warning. A license to teach in the public schools of New York is good for only one year. Its renewal depends upon the reports of the Princ.i.p.al in charge of the school and of the a.s.sociate Superintendent in whose district the school chances to be.
After three such renewals the license becomes permanent, but Miss Bailey was, as a teacher, barely four months old. The a.s.sociate Superintendent for her vicinity was the Honorable Timothy O'Shea, known and dreaded as ”Gum Shoe Tim,” owing to his engaging way of creeping softly up back-stairs and appearing, all unheralded and unwelcome, upon the threshold of his intended victim.
This, Miss Blake explained, was in defiance of all the rules of etiquette governing such visits of inspection. The proper procedure had been that of Mr. O'Shea's predecessor, who had always given timely notice of his coming and a hint as to the subjects in which he intended to examine the children. Some days later he would amble from room to room, accompanied by the amiable Princ.i.p.al, and followed by the grat.i.tude of smiling and unruffled teachers.
This kind old gentleman was now retired and had been succeeded by Mr.
O'Shea, who, in addition to his unexpectedness, was adorned by an abominable temper, an overbearing manner, and a sense of cruel humor. He had almost finished his examinations at the nearest school where, during a brisk campaign of eight days, he had caused five dismissals, nine cases of nervous exhaustion, and an epidemic of hysteria.
Day by day nerves grew more tense, tempers more unsure, sleep and appet.i.te more fugitive. Experienced teachers went stolidly on with the ordinary routine, while beginners devoted time and energy to the more spectacular portions of the curriculum. But no one knew the Honorable Timothy's pet subjects, and so no one could specialize to any great extent.
Miss Bailey was one of the beginners, and Room 18 was made to s.h.i.+ne as the sun. Morris Mogilewsky, Monitor of the Gold-Fish Bowl, wrought busily until his charges glowed redly against the water plants in their s.h.i.+ning bowl. Creepers crept, plants grew, and ferns waved under the care of Nathan Spiderwitz, Monitor of the Window Boxes. There was such a martial swing and strut in Patrick Brennan's leaders.h.i.+p of the line that it inflamed even the timid heart of Isidore Wishnewsky with a war-like glow and his feet with a spasmodic but well-meant tramp. Sadie Gonorowsky and Eva, her cousin, sat closely side by side, no longer ”mad on theirselves,” but ”mit kind feelings.” The work of the preceding term was laid in neat and docketed piles upon the low book-case. The children were enjoined to keep clean and entire. And Teacher, a nervous and unsmiling Teacher, waited dully.
A week pa.s.sed thus, and then the good-hearted and experienced Miss Blake hurried ponderously across the hall to put Teacher on her guard.
”I've just had a note from one of the grammar teachers,” she panted.
”'Gum Shoe Tim' is up in Miss Green's room! He'll take this floor next.
Now, see here, child, don't look so frightened. The Princ.i.p.al is with Tim. Of course you're nervous, but try not to show it, and you'll be all right. His lay is discipline and reading. Well, good luck to you!”
Miss Bailey took heart of grace. The children read surprisingly well, were absolutely good, and the enemy under convoy of the friendly Princ.i.p.al would be much less terrifying than the enemy at large and alone. It was, therefore, with a manner almost serene that she turned to greet the kindly concerned Princ.i.p.al and the dreaded ”Gum Shoe Tim.” The latter she found less ominous of aspect than she had been led to fear, and the Princ.i.p.al's charming little speech of introduction made her flush with quick pleasure. And the anxious eyes of Sadie Gonorowsky, noting the flush, grew calm as Sadie whispered to Eva, her close cousin:
”Say, Teacher has a glad. She's red on the face. It could to be her papa.”
”No. It's comp'ny,” answered Eva sagely. ”It ain't her papa. It's comp'ny the whiles Teacher takes him by the hand.”
The children were not in the least disconcerted by the presence of the large man. They always enjoyed visitors, and they liked the heavy gold chain which festooned the wide waistcoat of this guest; and, as they watched him, the a.s.sociate Superintendent began to superintend.
He looked at the children all in their clean and smiling rows; he looked at the flowers and the gold-fish; at the pictures and the plaster casts; he looked at the work of the last term and he looked at Teacher. As he looked he swayed gently on his rubber heels and decided that he was going to enjoy the coming quarter of an hour. Teacher pleased him from the first. She was neither old nor ill-favored, and she was most evidently nervous. The combination appealed both to his love of power and his peculiar sense of humor. Settling deliberately in the chair of state, he began:
”Can the children sing, Miss Bailey?”
They could sing very prettily and they did.
”Very nice, indeed,” said the voice of visiting authority. ”Very nice.
Their music is exceptionally good. And are they drilled? Children, will you march for me?”
Again they could and did. Patrick marshaled his line in time and triumph up and down the aisles to the evident interest and approval of the ”comp'ny,” and then Teacher led the cla.s.s through some very energetic Swedish movements. While arms and bodies were bending and straightening at Teacher's command and example, the door opened and a breathless boy rushed in. He bore an unfolded note and, as Teacher had no hand to spare, the boy placed the paper on the desk under the softening eyes of the Honorable Timothy, who glanced down idly and then pounced upon the note and read its every word.