trembled like a leaf.
"You may go to your seat, Rebecca," said Miss Dearborn at the end
of the first song. "Samuel, stay where you are till the close of
school. And let me tell you, scholars, that I asked Rebecca to
stand by the pail only to break up this habit of incessant
drinking, which is nothing but empty-mindedness and desire to
walk to and fro over the floor. Every time Rebecca has asked for
a drink to-day the whole school has gone to the pail like a
regiment. She is really thirsty, and I dare say I ought to have
punished you for following her example, not her for setting it.
What shall we sing now, Alice?"
"'The Old Oaken Bucket,' please."
"Think of something dry, Alice, and change the subject. Yes, 'The
Star Spangled Banner' if you like, or anything else."
Rebecca sank into her seat and pulled the singing book from her
desk. Miss Dearborn's public explanation had shifted some of the
weight from her heart, and she felt a trifle raised in her self-
esteem.
Under cover of the general relaxation of singing, offerings of
respectful sympathy began to make their appearance at her shrine.
Living Perkins, who could not sing, dropped a piece of maple
sugar in her lap as he passed her on his way to the blackboard to
draw the map of Maine, while Alice Robinson rolled a perfectly
new slate pencil over the floor with her foot until it reached
Rebecca's place.
Altogether existence grew brighter, and when she was left alone
with the teacher for her grammar lesson she had nearly recovered
her equanimity, which was more than Miss Dearborn had. The last
clattering foot had echoed through the hall, Seesaw's backward
glance of penitence had been met and answered defiantly by one of