Immediately I saw eight little fingers hook themselves on the outer edge of the windowsill, and a head with black hair held back by a rubber comb rise higher and higher until two bright eyes gazed right into mine. The head disappeared, and shortly after a little figure cautiously approached the door, looked all around, and then came up to me. It was Rosalie. Her bright smiling face threw a sunbeam into my gloomy little heart. Without saying a word she wiped the perspiration from my face with the corner of her apron; then she went away softly in the direction of the kitchen. Soon she returned with a tin cup having in it bits of ice. She took a lump and put it in my mouth, then stood looking in my face. After a while, she said, “I like you, don’t I?”
“ ’M h’m!” I assented with my mouth closed, nodding my head.
“When we get big, we’re going to be married, ain’t we?”
“ ’M h’m!” again I answered.
“We won’t send our children to this horrid old place, will we?”
“ ’M’m! ’M’m!” I replied with emphasis, shaking my head and stamping the floor.
The little sweetheart, seeing that the flies troubled my ankles, went out and came back with a linden branch and brushed away the pests. I slid to the floor and sat down with my legs stretched out. Rosalie dropped down too, and sat whisking away the flies.
Gradually things took on queer shapes, and the sounds seemed to come from afar; there was a moment of confusion and then—I found myself on a wide prairie. Heavy clouds were swiftly approaching; the thunder rolled long and loud, and the lightning darted hither and thither. Off in the distance I saw a forest. I pushed toward it with all my strength so as to take shelter before the storm should come upon me; but as I labored on there crept over me a consciousness of a weight upon my back which, hitherto, I had not noticed. It retarded my progress, and from time to time I was obliged to stop and give a little spring to shift the burden higher up. A cry of terror came from the thing I was carrying; then I knew it was little Rosalie. I tried to speak words of encouragement to her, but my strength was fast failing. Great drops of rain fell, and the wind drove the dust into my face, blinding me. I tottered on with my load, but the timber was still far away. A vivid flash, a deafening crash, and I fell to the ground with a cry. I tried to rise, but my legs and arms were as though dead.
With a start I opened my eyes. The room was darkened; there was a great commotion; all through the house, windows were being rapidly closed and the doors swung to with a bang. A terrific storm had arisen, and the building was in danger of destruction. Rosalie lay asleep with her head resting on my knees.
XI
A New Study
It was a hot September afternoon; our gingham handkerchiefs, which matched our shirts, were wet with mopping our faces. We all felt cross; Graybeard was cross, and everything we did went wrong.
Warren, who had been sent to the spring for a pail of cold water, leaned over his desk to Brush, and whispered loud enough for the boys around us to hear, “A big black carriage came up to the gate just now, and the Agent and three other big fat men got out. The super’tendent shook hands with them, and they went to his room.”
While Graybeard was shaking a boy to make him read correctly, the news of the black carriage and the fat men went from boy to boy. The girls were dying to know what word it was the boys were passing around; but the aisle that separated them from us was too wide to whisper across. Warren’s girl made signs to him which he at first did not understand; when he caught her meaning, he tore a flyleaf out of his book, wrote on it, rolled it into a ball and threw it to the girl, who deftly caught it; these two were adepts at such transmission of messages. The girl unfolded the paper, read it, and passed it on; then the girls felt better and resumed their work.
The class in mental arithmetic took the floor. Not one of the boys knew his lesson. As the recitation went on Graybeard’s face darkened and his forehead wrinkled; he came to a timid youngster with a hard question. I knew there was going to be trouble for the little chap; so, to save him pain and distress, I thought of a plan by which to distract Graybeard’s attention. I reached under my desk and took hold of a thread which I carefully drew until my thumb and finger touched the stiff paper to which it was attached, then, as the boy stammered out the wrong answer and Graybeard made an impatient movement toward him, I gave the thread a gentle pull, “Biz‑z‑z‑z‑z!” it went.
“Who’s making that noise?” asked Graybeard, turning toward our end of the schoolroom.
I loosened the pressure, and the noise ceased. When Graybeard returned to the boy, I again pulled the thread, “Biz‑z‑z‑z‑z!” Something was wrong this time; the buzzing did not cease, it became louder and angrier.
“Who’s doing that?” exclaimed Graybeard.
Every boy and girl looked up to him as though to say, “I did not do it.” The buzzing went on; I alone kept my eyes on my book, and so aroused suspicion. I did not dare to put my hand under the desk again to stop the buzzing, for I had
