Part 9 (2/2)

'Living so near, we saw a lot of him. He was always coming in evenings to see the girls, and he pretended to go to school, too. He was sort of uppish in his ways, and I knew he made fun of me and my teaching, all around among the neighbors. What did he do one day but bring me some beginning Greek exercises to look over, with his head in the air as if he was sayin', ”Guess I've got you now!”

'I took his exercises and looked at 'em, awful wise, and said those was all right, that time. Bless you, I didn't know Alphy from Omegy, but I meant to, mighty quick! I walked seven miles an' back that evening to borrow some Greek books of a man I knew had 'em, and sat up till two o'clock, tryin' to get the hang of the alphabet.

'Well, sir! I just pitched into those books an' tore the innards out of 'em, and then I pitched into that fellow. You'd ought to have seen him open his eyes when he found I knew what I was talkin' about! He got tired of his Greek inside of two weeks. But I held him to it. I made him keep right on, and I did the same, and kept ahead of him.

'It interested me awfully, that Greek. I borrowed some more books and got me some translations. I don't say I got so I could read it easy, but I got on to a lot of new ideas. There was one book about a fellow who was strapped to a rock for a thousand years for bringing the fire of the G.o.ds to mortals. Probably you've heard of it. I liked that.'

All this sounded to me a good deal like a fairy-tale the old gentleman was telling. Of course, all education is so much more rigid nowadays, that the idea of anybody pitching in that way, and grabbing the heart out of any form of knowledge was novel to me. Yet I'd read in the biographies of great men that such things had really been done.

Only--Mr. Miles wasn't a great man. How, then, had he come to accomplish what I understood was essentially an achievement of genius?

The thing staggered me.

'”Prometheus Bound,”' said Seth Miles meditatively. 'That's the one. You may think I was conceited, but it seemed to me I knew how that man felt.

To make them look up! To kindle the flame! Didn't I know how a man could long to do that? Wouldn't I, too, risk the anger of the G.o.ds if I could fire those children's minds the way my own was fired?

'You see, it's this way, Richard: a feeling is a feeling. There are only just so many of 'em in the world, and if you know what any one of 'em is like, you do. That's all.

'When I spoke to father about my plans again, he looked as if I'd hurt him. A pitiful, caught look came in his eyes, and he said, ”Don't let's talk about it now, Seth. I--I reelly ain't up to it to-day.”

'There was something in what he said, or the way he said it, that just seemed to hit my heart a smas.h.i.+ng blow. I felt like I'd swallowed a pound of shot, and yet I didn't know why. I couldn't see anything wrong, nor any reason why my plans wasn't for the best, for all of us. But those few words he said, and the way he looked, upset me so that I went off to the barn after school that afternoon and climbed into the hay-mow to find a quiet place to figure the thing out. I hadn't been there long before I heard voices down below, and Cynthy's laugh, and somebody climbing the ladder. It was Cynthy and d.i.c.k. Sarah had sent 'em out to hunt more eggs for a cake she was bakin'.

'I didn't think they'd stay long, and I wanted to be let alone, so I just kept quiet.

'Now I want to say before I go any further that d.i.c.k would have been a great deal more no-account than he was if he hadn't admired Cynthy, and it wasn't any wonder she liked him. Besides what there was to him, there was plenty of little reasons, like the kind of neckties he wore and the way he kept his shoes s.h.i.+ned. There was always a kind of style about d.i.c.k.

'They rustled round, laughing and talking, till they got the five eggs they was sent for, and then Cynthy made as if she started down the ladder. d.i.c.k held her back.

'”Not till you've kissed me!” said he.

'”I'm ashamed of you,” said she.

'”I'm proud of myself,” said he, ”to think I know enough to want it.

Why, Cynthy, I ain't never had one, but I'd swear a kiss of yours would be like the flutter of an angel's wing across my lips.”

'”That's foolishness,” said she; but she said it softly, as if she liked foolishness.

'Mebbe you wonder how I remember every little thing they said. It's like it was burned into my brain with fire. For I no sooner heard 'em foolin'

with one another that soft little way than something seemed to wring my heart with such a twist that it stopped beating.--d.i.c.k kiss Cynthy?

Why--why, Cynthy was mine! She'd always been as close to me as the beat of my own heart. From the minute I first laid eyes on her I'd known it, in the back of my mind. I'd never put it into words, not even to myself.

But that was the way it _was_. So now my soul just staggered. n.o.body could kiss Cynthy but me. That was all.

'”Foolishness!” said d.i.c.k; his voice was sort of thick and blurry, and, of a sudden, I could hear him breathing hard. ”Foolishness! I guess it's the only wisdom that there is!--My G.o.d!--My G.o.d!--_O Cynthy, just one kiss!_”

'”d.i.c.k! Why, d.i.c.k!”

'Her little voice sounded like the birds you sometimes hear in the middle of the night, just that soft, astonished, questioning note.

'I suppose I was across that mow and beside 'em in five seconds, but it seemed to me I took an hour to cross it. I never traveled so long and hard a road, nor one so beset with terror and despair.

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