dimmed eyes, was the little girl. Sadly he listened to the voices in
the entry and heard their shouts as they burst out doors;
and--suddenly, his heart beat quicker and his cheeks burned--_that_
was her voice!

Clear and sweet through the open window of the man's memory it
came--the voice of his little girl mate of the Yesterdays.

She was standing on the worn threshold of the old schoolhouse, calling
to her friends to wait; and the boy knew that she was lingering there
for him and that she called to her companions loudly so that he would
understand.

But the teacher knew it too and bade the little girl go home.

Then, while the boy listened to that sweet voice growing fainter and
fainter in the distance; while he saw her, in his fancy, walking
slowly, lagging behind her companions, looking back for him; the
teacher talked to him very seriously about the value of his
opportunities; told him that to acquire an education was his duty;
sought to impress upon him that the most important thing in life was
Knowledge.

Of course, thought the boy, teacher must know. And, thinking this, he
felt himself to be a very bad boy, indeed; because, in his heart, he
knew that he would have, that moment, given up every chance of an
education; he would have sacrificed every hope of wisdom; he would
have thrown away all Knowledge and heaven itself just to be walking
down the road with the little girl. And he must have been a little
had--that boy--because also, most ardently, did he wish that he was