Part 12 (2/2)

”You can come and read with this cla.s.s;” nodding to Cynthia.

She was not a regularly bashful child, but she flushed as the children stared at her. They sometimes wore their Sunday white frock one or two days at school. Cynthia was so used to her clothes, cared so little about them that they were rarely in her mind. But this universal attention annoyed her.

”'Tend to your books, children.”

Cynthia acquitted herself finely, rather too much so, the dame thought.

She would talk to her about it. A girl didn't want to read as if she was a minister preaching a sermon.

Then she was given a very much ”dog's-eared” spelling-book to study down a column. Another cla.s.s read some easy lesson; a story about a dog that interested her so much that she forgot to study. While the older children were doing sums one little boy after another came up to the desk and spelled from a book. One's attention wandered and the dame hit him a sharp rap. Tables followed, eight and nine times; dry measure, and then questions were asked singly. Some few missed. Cynthia followed the spelling where they went up and down. Then the larger ones were dismissed for recess.

”Cynthy Leverett, come up here and see how many words you can spell. You ought to be ashamed, a big girl like you staying behind in next to the baby cla.s.s.”

Cynthia's face was scarlet. Alas! She had been so interested watching and listening she had not studied at all. But the words were rather easy and she did know all but two.

”Now you take the next line and those two over again. See if you can't get them all learned by noon.”

The next little girl, who could not have been more than six, missed a number. She had a queer drawl in her voice.

”What did I tell you, Jane Mason? And you have missed more than two.

Hold out your hand!”

The switch came down on the poor little hand with an angry swish.

Cynthia winched.

”Now you go back and study. No going out to play for you this morning.

Jane Mason, you're the biggest dunce in school.”

The two other girls did better. Then the bell rang and the girls came in with flushed and laughing faces.

Cynthia studied her two words over until they ceased to have any meaning. At twelve they were all dismissed.

”Isn't she a hateful old thing?” said Janie Mason, when they were outside of the door. ”I wish I was big enough to strike back. I don't like school anyhow. Do you?”

”I--I don't know. I have never been before.”

Several of the other girls swarmed around her with curious eyes.

”What a pretty frock!” began Betty Upham. ”I suppose it's your Sunday best, with all that work.”

”Betty said you were an Injun,” said another. ”I never saw an Injun who didn't have coa.r.s.e, straight, black hair, and yours is lightish and curls. I'd so love to have curly hair.”

”I'm not the kind of Indians you have here,” she returned indignantly.

”I was born right here in Salem. I've lived in Calcutta and in China, and been to Batavia, and ever so many places.”

”Then you ain't an Injun at all! Betty, how could you?”

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