through--through the winder. That great big hoodlum of a George Spragg
was a-sassin' Miss Buchanan an' makin' faces at her. The crowd was a-
whoopin' him up. In the middle o' the uproar she kneels down. 'O
Lord,' says she, 'I pray Thee to soften the heart of pore George
Spragg, and give me, a weak woman, the strength to prevail against his
everlastin' ignorance and foolishness!' George got the colour of a
beet, but he quit his foolin'. Yes sir, she prays for 'em, and she
coaxes 'em, an' she never knows when she's beat; but they'll be too
much for her. She's losin' her appetite, an' she don't sleep good. We
won't be boardin' her much longer."

But that night, as usual, when I asked Alethea-Belle how she did, she
replied, in her prim, formal accents: "I'm doing real well, I thank
you; much, much better than I expected."

Two days later I detected a bruise upon her forehead. With great
difficulty I extracted the truth. Tom Eubanks had thrown an apple at
the schoolmarm.

"And what did you do?"

Her grey eyes were unruffled, her delicately cut lips never smiled, as
she replied austerely: "I told Thomas that I was sure he meant well,
but that if a boy wished to give an apple to a lady he'd ought to hand
it politely, and not throw it. Then I ate the apple. It was a Newtown
pippin, and real good. After recess Thomas apologised."

"What did the brute say?"

"He is not a brute. He said he was sorry he'd thrown the pippin so