pesky glad, Mis Morgeson, that you have never put foot in his house. I
'plaud your sperit!"

"School-time, Cassy," said mother. "Will you have some gingerbread
to carry? Tell me when you come home what you have read in the New
Testament."

"My boy does read beautiful," said Mrs. Saunders. "Where's the potash,
Mis Morgeson?"

I heard the bell toll as I loitered along the roadside, pulling a
dandelion here and there, for it was in the month of May, and
throwing it in the rut for the next wheel to crush. When I reached
the schoolhouse I saw through the open door that the New Testament
exercise was over. The teacher, Mrs. Desire Cushman, a tall, slender
woman, in a flounced calico dress, was walking up and down the room; a
class of boys and girls stood in a zigzag line before her, swaying to
and fro, and drawling the multiplication table. She was yawning as
I entered, which exercise forbade her speaking, and I took my seat
without a reprimand. The flies were just coming; I watched their
sticky legs as they feebly crawled over my old unpainted notched
desk, and crumbled my gingerbread for them; but they seemed to have no
appetite. Some of the younger children were drowsy already, lulled by
the hum of the whisperers. Feeling very dull, I asked permission to go
to the water-pail for a drink; let the tin cup fall into the water so
that the floor might be splashed; made faces at the good scholars, and
did what I could to make the time pass agreeably. At noon mother sent
my dinner, with the request that I should stay till night, on account
of my being in the way while the household was in the crisis of
soap-making and whitewashing. I was exasperated, but I stayed. In the