Giorgione. (Goes up to schoolhouse window, and looks in.) Too
early! Seven empty benches; seven desks splashed with ink. The--
er--rostrum of the awful Minerva empty, but--er--adorned with
flowers, nosegays--demn me! And here, here on the--er--very
threshold (looking down), floral tributes. The--er--conceit of
these New England schoolma'ams, and their--er--evident Jesuitical
influence over the young, is fraught, sir, fraught with--er--darkly
political significance. Eh, Ged! there's a caricature on the
blackboard. (Laughing.) Ha, ha! Absurd chalk outline of
ridiculous fat person. Evidently the schoolma'am's admirer. Ged!
immensely funny! Ah! boys will be boys. Like you, Star, just like
you,--always up to tricks like that. A sentence scrawled below the
figure seems to be--er--explanation. Hem! (Takes out eyeglass.)
Let's see (reading.) "This is old"--old--er--old--demme, sir!--
"Starbottle!" This is infamous. I haven't been forty-eight hours
in the place, and to my certain knowledge haven't spoken to a
child. Ged, sir, it's the--er--posting of a libel! The woman,
the--er--female, who permits this kind of thing, should be made
responsible--er--personally responsible. Eh, hush! What have we
here? (Retires to ledge of rocks.)

Enter MISS MARY L., reading letter.

Miss Mary. Strange! Is it all a dream? No! here are the familiar
rocks, the distant snow-peaks, the schoolhouse, the spring below.
An hour ago I was the poor schoolmistress of Red Gulch, with no
ambition nor hope beyond this mountain wall; and now--oh, it must
be a dream! But here is the letter. Certainly this is no
delusion: it is too plain, formal, business-like. (Reads.)