"Just wanted to be noticed," said the Honorable Tim. "It is easy to
spoil them." And he watched the best of boys rather closely, for a habit
of interrupting reading lessons, wantonly and without reason, was a
trait in the young of which he disapproved.

When this disapprobation manifested itself in Mr. O'Shea's countenance,
the loyal heart of Morris interpreted it as a new menace to his
sovereign. No later than yesterday she had warned them of the vital
importance of coherence. "Every one knows," she had said, "that only
common little boys and girls come apart. No one ever likes them," and
the big stranger was even now misjudging her.

Again his short arm agitated the quiet air. Again his trembling legs
upheld a trembling boy. Again authority urged. Again Teacher asked:

"Well, Morris, what is it, dear?"

All this was as before, but not as before was poor harassed Miss
Bailey's swoop down the aisle, her sudden taking Morris's troubled
little face between her soft hands, the quick near meeting with her
kind eyes, the note of pleading in her repetition:

"What do you want, Morris?"

He was beginning to answer when it occurred to him that the truth might
make her cry. There was an unsteadiness about her upper lip which seemed
to indicate the possibility. Suddenly he found that he no longer yearned
for words in which to tell her of her disjointment, but for something
else--anything else--to say.