"Won't you, Boy?" she repeated tensely.
He looked up steadily and then slowly said:
"Yes, I will."
She clasped him impulsively in her arms and hurried from the cabin
leading the children by the hand. The Boy could feel her slender fingers
trembling.
When they drew near the cross roads where the little log house had been
built, she stopped, nervously fixed their clothes, took off the Boy's
cap and brushed his thick black hair.
They were the first to arrive, but in a few minutes others came, and by
nine o'clock more than thirty scholars were in their seats. The mother's
heart sank within her when she met the teacher and heard him talk. It
was only too evident that he was poorly equipped for his work. He could
barely read and could neither write nor teach arithmetic. The one
qualification about which there was absolute certainty, was that he
could lick the biggest boy in school whenever the occasion demanded it.
He conveyed this interesting bit of information to the assemblage in no
uncertain language.
The mother could scarcely keep back her tears. By the end of the week it
was plain that her children knew as much as their teacher.
"What's the use?" Tom asked in disgust. "Hit's a waste o' time an'
money. Let 'em quit!"
"No, I can't take them out!" was the firm reply. "They may not learn
much, but if the school keeps going, don't you see, a better man will
come bye and bye, and then it will be worth while.
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