began to hum a tune and keep step to the music. They often did this as
they walked.

Kyzie had gone on before them. Her father was with her, but she had the
key in her hand and opened the schoolhouse door. They walked in
together, and Kyzie locked the door behind them, for several children
were waiting about who must not enter till the bell rang.

The schoolhouse floor was very clean; the new teacher herself had swept
it. On the walls were large wreaths of holly, which had been left over
from last Christmas, when the Sunday-school had had a celebration here.
At one end of the room was a raised platform with a large desk on it.
On the wall over the desk was a motto made of red pepper berries, only
the words were so close together that you could not make them out unless
you knew beforehand what they were.

"That means, 'Christ is risen,'" explained Kyzie. "It looks dreadfully,
but they didn't want it taken down, I'll make another by and by."

There were blackboards on three sides of the room; quite clean they
looked now. The desks and benches were rude ones of black oak, and had
been hacked by jack-knives. Kyzie regretted this, but supposed the boys
had not been taught any better. There was only one chair in the room, a
large armed chair for the little teacher, and it stood solemnly on the
platform before the desk.

"You see, papa, I've brought a big blank-book to write the names in. The
pen and inkstand belong here. Ahem, I begin to tremble," said she, and
looked at her mother's watch which she wore in her belt. "It's five
minutes of nine."