Part 12 (1/2)

”Jennie,” said he, ”when a thing won't work, it isn't correct in theory.”

”Well, then, Jim,” said she, ”why do you keep on with it?”

”It works,” said Jim. ”Anything that's correct in theory will work. If the theory seems correct, and yet won't work, it's because something is wrong in an unsuspected way with the theory. But my theory is correct, and it works.”

”But the district is against it.”

”Who are the district?”

”The school board are against it.”

”The school board elected me after listening to an explanation of my theories as to the new sort of rural school in which I believe. I a.s.sume that they commissioned me to carry out my ideas.”

”Oh, Jim!” cried Jennie. ”That's sophistry! They all voted for you so you wouldn't be without support. Each wanted you to have just one vote. n.o.body wanted you elected. They were all surprised. You know that!”

”They stood by and saw the contract signed,” said Jim, ”and--yes, Jennie, I _am_ dealing in sophistry! I got the school by a sort of sh.e.l.l-game, which the board worked on themselves. But that doesn't prove that the district is against me. I believe the people are for me, now, Jennie. I really do!”

Jennie rose and walked to the rear of the room and back, twice. When she spoke, there was decision in her tone--and Jim felt that it was hostile decision.

”As an officer,” she said rather grandly, ”my relations with the district are with the school board on the one hand, and with your competency as a teacher on the other.”

”Has it come to that?” asked Jim. ”Well, I have rather expected it.”

His tone was weary. The Lincolnian droop in his great, sad, mournful mouth accentuated the resemblance to the martyr president. Possibly his feelings were not entirely different from those experienced by Lincoln at some crises of doubt, misunderstanding and depression.

”If you can't change your methods,” said Jennie, ”I suggest that you resign.”

”Do you think,” said Jim, ”that changing my methods would appease the men who feel that they are made laughing-stocks by having elected me?”

Jennie was silent; for she knew that the school board meant to pursue their policy of getting rid of the accidental inc.u.mbent regardless of his methods.

”They would never call off their dogs,” said Jim.

”But your methods would make a great difference with my decision,” said Jennie.

”Are you to be called upon to decide?” asked Jim.

”A formal complaint against you for incompetency,” she replied, ”has been lodged in my office, signed by the three directors. I shall be obliged to take notice of it.”

”And do you think,” queried Jim, ”that my abandonment of the things in which I believe in the face of this attack would prove to your mind that I am competent? Or would it show me incompetent?”

Again Jennie was silent.

”I guess,” said Jim, ”that we'll have to stand or fall on things as they are.”

”Do you refuse to resign?” asked Jennie.

”Sometimes I think it's not worth while to try any longer,” said Jim. ”And yet, I believe that in my way I'm working on the question which must be solved if this nation is to stand--the question of making the farm and farm life what they should be and may well be. At this moment, I feel like surrendering--for your sake more than mine; but I'll have to think about it. Suppose I refuse to resign?”

Jennie had drawn on her gloves, and stood ready for departure.