Part 3 (2/2)

”h.e.l.lo,” said a voice in the darkness, and then I saw that the figure in the road was Justice Sherman. His bad ankle had given out on him and he had been sitting there on the ground waiting for some vehicle to come along and give him a lift to Spencer.

”Get in,” I said briefly, helping him up, and he got in beside me without a word. We drove to Spencer in silence and he made no move to get out when we got there. I mailed my letter and then turned and drove homeward.

About half way home he spoke up and apologized for being so hasty, and wondered if father would take him back again. I rea.s.sured him heartily and we were on the old footing of intimacy by the time we reached home.

We found father standing in front of the house talking to a negro whom we recognized as the one we had met in the road that afternoon. Father greeted Justice Sherman with joy and relief.

”You pretty nearly came back too late,” he said. ”Here I was just hiring a man to take your place.” Then he turned to the negro and said, ”It's all off, Solomon. I don't need you. My own man has come back. You go along and get a job somewhere else.”

The negro shuffled off and I fancied that he looked rather resentful at being sent away.

”Father,” I said, when the creature was out of earshot, ”you surely weren't going to hire that ape to work here?”

”Why not?” answered father. ”I have to have a man to help with the horses, and this fellow came up to the door and asked for work, so I promised him a job.”

”But he's such a terrible looking thing,” I said.

Father only laughed and dismissed the subject with a wave of his hands.

”I wasn't hiring him for his looks,” he answered. ”He said he could handle horses and that was enough for me.”

So Justice Sherman came back to us and the subject of military service was never broached again.

About a week after his return, and when Jim Wiggin was able to be about again, Justice Sherman walked into the kitchen with a mincing air quite unlike his ordinary free stride. He had been to Spencer for the mail.

”Tread softly when you see me,” he advised. ”I'm a perfessor, I am.”

I looked up inquiringly from the potato I was paring.

”Behold in me,” he went on, ”the entire faculty of the Spencer High School. I am instructor in Latin, Greek, mathematics, science, history, English and dramatics; also civics and economics.”

”You don't mean really?” I asked.

”Really and truly, for sartain sure,” he repeated. ”The last faculty got drafted and left the school in a bad way. I heard about it down at the post-office this afternoon and went over and applied for the job. The hardened warriors that compose the school board fell for me to a man. I recited one line of Latin and they applauded to the echo; I recited a line of gibberish and told them it was Greek, and they wept with delight at the purity of my accent. Then they cautiously inquired if I was qualified to teach any other branches and I told them that I also included in my repertoire cooking, dressmaking and millinery. This last remark was intended to be facetious, but those solemn old birds took it seriously and forthwith broke into loud hosannas. I was somewhat mystified at the outbreak until I gathered from bits of conversation that the extravagant towns.h.i.+p of Spencer had intended to hire two high school teachers this year, as the last inc.u.mbent's accomplishments had been rather brief and fleeting, but what was the use, as one pious old hairpin by the name of b.u.t.ts delicately put it, what was the use of paying two teachers when one feller could do the hull thing himself? Then he shook me feelingly by the hand and said he knowed I was a bargain the minute he laid eyes on me. O Tempora, O Mores! Papers were brought and shoved into my yielding hands, the writ duly executed, and I pa.s.sed out of the door a fully fledged 'perfessor' with a six-months' contract. Smile on me, please, I'm a bargain!” And he danced a hornpipe in the middle of the floor until the dishes rattled in the cupboard.

I stared at him speechless. He teach high school? And the things he mentioned as being able to teach! History, French, mathematics, physics, literature, philosophy, Latin, Greek! Quite a well-rounded sheep herder, this! The mystery about him deepened. It was clear now that he was a college graduate. Again I revised my estimate as to his age, and decided he must be about twenty-three or four. Why would he be willing to teach a farce of a high school like the one in Spencer?

Then in the midst of my puzzling it came over me that I did not want him to leave us, and that I would miss him terribly. Of course, he would go to live in Spencer.

”Are you going to board with any of the school board?” I asked jealously, that being what the last ”faculty” had done.

”Board with the Board?” he repeated. ”Neat expression, that. Not that I know of. I haven't been requested to vacate my present quarters yet, or do I understand that you are even now serving notice?”

A thrill of joy shot through me. Maybe he would still live in the little cabin on our farm.

”I thought of course you would rather live near the school,” I said.

”It's six miles from here. Why don't you?”

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