But dreams and rest were far from the minds of the Gay Gordons as they met the gathering9 clans10 in the lane to take their journey down the short-cut to school. Charles Stuart was there, and a crowd of Martins, and even Wully Johnstone's youngsters, who had come half a mile out of their way to join the crowd.
Miss Gordon stood at the door, holding little Jamie by the hand, and watched the happy troop, ladened with schoolbags and dinner-pails, go down the lane. Jamie cried because his "Diddy" was leaving him, and there would be nobody to play with, but Miss Gordon saw them depart with feelings of unmixed pleasure. In a few days Malcolm and Jean would start for the High School in Cheemaun, and what a relief the long, quiet genteel days would be with only Annie for a companion!
Down the lane gayly passed the joyous11 procession. For the rising generation of Forest Glen had not yet become sophisticated enough to consider school a hardship. Instead, it was a joy, and often an escape from harder work. To the Martins, at least, it was. Jake Martin was indeed a hard man, as the country-side declared, and nowhere did his hand lie heavier than on his own family. There was a Martin to match each Gordon and some left over, and not one of them but already showed signs of toil12 beyond their young strength. Dairy-farming, market-gardening, poultry-raising, and every known form of making money on the farm was carried on by the Martins on an extensive scale, and everyone, from Mrs. Martin down, was a slave to their swelling13 bank account. The older boys and girls had already left school to work at home, and those who did go always hurried back to plant or weed or dig in the fields as the season demanded. Susie was Elizabeth's comrade, being of the same age. But there was none of the light and joyous thoughtlessness of Elizabeth's character in poor Susie's life. The little girl's hands were already hardened by the broom, the churn-dasher, and the hoe, and the only emotion Susie ever displayed was fear lest she might be late in reaching home, and so miss five minutes' work and suffer punishment at the hands of her father. Elizabeth often wondered what it would be like to have a father one was afraid of, and was very kind and gentle with Susie, though she considered her a complete failure as a playmate.
As they passed the mill, John and Charles Stuart and Wully Johnstone's Johnny seized the car and took a couple of tumultuous rides down to the water's edge, but the Martin boys went on steadily14 and solemnly. Their father would be sure to hear if they paused to play on the way to school.
The pond lay cool and brown beneath the shade of the alders15 and willows16. Away up at the end, where the stream entered from its jungle of water-reeds and sunken stumps17 and brown bullrushes, there grew a tangle18 of water-plants all in glorious blossom. There were water-lilies both golden and waxy-white, and blue spikes19 of pickerel-weed, and clumps20 of fragrant21 musk22. And over the surface of the golden-brown water was spread a fairy web of delicate plant life, vivid green, and woven of such tiny forms that it looked like airy foam23 that a breath would dissolve. On its outer edge was an embroidery24 of dainty star-blossoms, like little green forget-me-nots scattered25 over the glassy surface.
The green and golden vista26 of flowers that led away up from this fairy nook, with the green and golden water winding27 between the blossoming banks, always called aloud to Elizabeth whenever she crossed the ravine by the mill-path. She never looked up the creek28 without longing29 to explore its winding pathway, right up to the depths of Wully Johnstone's swamp. And yet, strange Elizabeth, when she had once gained her desire, it had given her anything but enjoyment30. She and Charles Stuart and John had built a raft from old mill slabs31 that spring, just when the creek was choked with blue fleur-de-lis and pink ladies'-slippers. They had gone way up stream on a voyage of discovery, bumping over sunken logs, crashing into rotten stumps, and ruthlessly destroying whole acres of moss32 and water-reeds. It had all been just as lovely as Elizabeth had dreamed, but there were other things upon which she had not reckoned. There were black water-snakes coiled amongst the rushes, and horrible speckled frogs sitting up on water-lily leaves; frogs with awful goggle33 eyes that looked at you out of the darkness of your bedroom for many, many nights afterwards. There were mud-turtles that paddled their queer little rafts right up to yours, and poked34 their dreadful snaky heads right up at you out of the water. And besides all the creepy, crawly things that swarmed36 down in the golden-brown depths and made your hair stand on end when your bare feet touched the water, there were thousands of frightful37 leggy things that wore skates and ran swiftly at you right over the surface. Even the air was filled with blue "darning-needles" and stingy-looking things, that buzzed and danced about your ears, so that there was no safety nor comfort above nor below. And so Elizabeth had returned from her first visit to her Eldorado full of mingled38 feelings. And all the time she was learning that great lesson of life: that the fairy bowers39 which beckon40 us to come away and play give pure pleasure only when viewed from the stony41 pathway that leads up to the schoolhouse of duty. But that was a lesson Elizabeth took many years to learn.
So she merely glanced up the creek and sighed as they climbed the hill. She said nothing to Susie of all it meant to her. For Susie, though a very dear girl, was not a person who understood.
Over The Slash42 they went, through old Sandy McLachlan's woods, down his lane to the highway, and with a last glad rush right into the schoolyard.
Eppie joined Elizabeth at her barnyard gate. Childlike, they had both practically forgotten the fear that had hung over Eppie's head early in the summer, and were happily unconscious that the little home in the woods was already another's.
Forest Glen School stood near the road; so near, indeed, that the porch actually encroached upon the Queen's Highway. But there was plenty of room behind the building. For beyond a lumpy yard, innocent of a blade of grass, stretched miles of Wully Johnstone's swamp, which had been appropriated by the pupils as a playground. This seemed only just, for remains43 of the forest still held possession of much of the school-grounds proper. Nobody objected to the stumps, however, because they were useful as bases in the ball games, and young Forest Glen had once raised a storm of protest when a visiting lady from town had suggested to Mr. Coulson that he have them removed on Arbor44 Day. There was a battered45 old woodshed at the back, its walls covered with carvings46, its roof sagging47 wearily from the weight of many generations of sliders who had shot down its snowy surface to the top of the hill behind. Near it stood a crippled old pump that had brought up water for these same generations of sliders, and was still bringing it up, which perhaps explained its disheartened appearance.
The Dale contingent48 always arrived early at school, and on this first day they had still more than half an hour at their disposal. The boys rushed into a game of ball, but the girls gathered in groups about the gate to watch for the new teacher. For this one was new in every sense of the word—a lady in fact, and Forest Glen had always heretofore had a man; and the older girls were filled with pleasurable excitement.
Miss Hillary was to board at Martha Ellen Robertson's place, the big, white house not a quarter of a mile down the road. All eyes were fastened upon the red gate to see her emerge, and many were the speculations49 as to whether she would be tall or short, old or young, plain or pretty, and above all what she should wear.
She appeared at last, and the chief questions were at once settled. She was tall, she was young, she was pretty, and she wore a most beautiful dark-blue dress with a trim white collar and cuffs50. She had pretty dark hair, just waving back from her little ears, and shaded by a dainty blue hat, trimmed with a wreath of white daisies. The girls gravitated towards the center of the road, Elizabeth and Rosie at the head of the group. Elizabeth fell in love at first sight. She had vowed51 with sobs52 last June that she would never, never love a teacher again, and here she was ready to declare that this one was the most wonderful and beautiful creature she had ever seen.
As the new teacher approached, she smiled in a stately fashion and said, "Good-morning." As she entered the school, the boys drifted farther away from the building and the girls drifted nearer. Some of them even ventured into the room, to see her hang up her hat and take off her gloves. Elizabeth was foremost among the latter. She longed to go up to her and offer her assistance in the many new difficulties which she saw the teacher might meet. She would have liked to show Miss Hillary from the first that she was really quite grown-up and genteel. She would help her with the names in the school register, show her where the chalk was kept, and how the backs came off two of the blackboard brushes, but could be kept on if you just held them right, and how the bottom board of the blackboard might fall if you weren't careful; and ever so much more valuable information. Miss Hillary would have profited much more even than Elizabeth thought, if she had accepted that young lady at her most grown-up estimate; and Elizabeth would have profited even more. But, unfortunately for poor Elizabeth, Miss Hillary was not one who easily understood.
The new teacher rang the bell and the school assembled, the big boys straggling in last and flopping53 into their seats with a bored and embarrassed air. The room was very quiet, the unaccustomed surroundings impressing everyone into unaccustomed silence. For the place had been all scrubbed and white-washed, and there were wonderful new desks and seats that folded up all of their own accord when you stood up, as if they worked by magic. There was a strange smell of varnish54, too, that added much to the feeling of newness.
As soon as prayers were over, the new teacher arose and delivered her opening speech. Her manner was still distant and stately. She wished to speak to them particularly, she said, on deportment, for she had discovered that the children of rural communities were sadly deficient55 in manners. Elizabeth quite lost the purport56 of the little address in her admiration57 of the beautiful, long, high-sounding words with which it was garnished58. Elizabeth loved long words. She wished she could remember just one or two of the biggest, and she would use them when Mrs. Jarvis came. Suddenly a fine plan was born in her fertile brain. All unmindful that Miss Hillary had given strict commands to everyone to sit straight with folded arms, she snatched her slate59 and pencil. She would write down the finest and most high-sounding of those words, and how pleased and surprised Aunt Margaret would be when she used them. She would look them up in the dictionary just as soon as she could get a breathing-spell. There were "ideals" and "aspirations60" and "deportment" many times, and "disciplined"—which last Elizabeth spelled without a "c." There were "principles" and "insubordination," and "contumacious," over the spelling of which Elizabeth had such a very bad time, and "esprit de corps," which, fortunately, she gave up altogether, and ever so many more, which flew over her head like birds of paradise, brilliant and alluring61, but not to be caught. Some, Elizabeth could remember having heard her father use, and, proudly recognizing them as old friends, let them pass.
She was utterly62 absorbed in her task, her pencil flying over her slate, squeaking63 madly, when right in the midst of "irresponsible" with one "r" and several other letters wanting, she paused. It was a poke35 from Rosie that disturbed her. Elizabeth was accustomed to being poked by Rosie, for her seat-mate always attracted one's attention this way; but her pokes64 were always eloquent65 and this one betokened66 alarm and urgency. For a moment or more Elizabeth had been vaguely67 conscious that there was a lull68 in Miss Hillary's talk and a strange silence over the room, but she had merely taken the opportunity to stick syllables69 on the ends of certain words which haste had compelled her to curtail70. She was in the act of fixing up "contumacious," and making it a little more un-English if possible, when the poke awoke her to her surroundings.
She looked up. All eyes were upon her—disapproving and ashamed Gordon eyes, others amused or only interested, and, worst of all, the new teacher's, stern and annoyed. Elizabeth's pencil dropped from her paralyzed fingers. It broke in three pieces—the beautiful, long, new pencil with the gold paper covering, which Mr. Coulson had given her at parting; and Miss Hillary said, oh, so coldly, and sternly:
"There is one little girl in the class who has been paying no attention whatever to anything I have been saying. That little girl will please come forward and take the front seat."
Elizabeth turned pale, and John and Mary hung their heads. Oh, wasn't it just like Lizzie to do something to disgrace the family—and right on the first day of school, too! The culprit arose, and slowly made her way forward, trembling with fear. This wonderful new creature whom she adored was after all an unknown quantity, and Elizabeth was always afraid of the unknown. She went up the aisle71 all unseeing. She did not even notice Rosie's glance of anguish72 as she left.
She stood before the teacher's desk with hanging head. "Sit down," Miss Hillary said coldly, and Elizabeth turned to obey. Now in olden times there had been a row of benches in front of the platform upon which the classes sat before their teacher, but these were gone and instead were those magic folding seats, all closed up tight. Elizabeth, still blind with fear, went to sit down upon a bench where no bench was, and instead sat down soundingly upon the floor. A titter of laughter ran over the room, and she sprang to her feet. She was quite unhurt, except her dignity, but even this she did not notice. The funny side of anything, though the joke was on herself, was always irresistible73 to Elizabeth. Miss Hillary might kill her the next moment, but for the present she must laugh, and laugh she did aloud, showing her gleaming teeth in a short spasm74 of merriment. But the fun vanished as quickly as it had come. She had no sooner struggled into the unwilling75 seat, and looked up at her teacher, than she froze again with apprehension76.
Miss Hillary had arisen and was looking down at her, a red spot on either cheek, her eyes angry and flashing. Elizabeth could not know that the young teacher was in terror of the pupils, terror lest they take advantage of her being a woman, and was nervously77 on the outlook for signs of insubordination. She was almost as afraid of this mischievous-looking, little brown thing as the little thing was of her, and even suspected her of planning the ridiculous tumble for her own and the school's amusement. Miss Hillary was weak, and displayed the cruelty that so often characterizes weakness in a place of power.
"What is your name?" she demanded sternly.
"How old are you?"
"Ten," whispered Elizabeth. She always said, "Going on eleven." But now, feeling keenly that she had acted in a shocking manner, to be ten did not sound quite so bad. A mature person on the road to eleven would never, never be called to the front the first day of school!
"Well, Elizabeth Gordon," said Miss Hillary, "any big girl of ten should have learned long ago that it is very rude and unladylike to sit writing when her teacher is talking to her. I want you to remain in this front seat, where I can watch you, until you have learned to be mannerly. To ignore your teacher is extremely reprehensible79, but to laugh over your conduct is positively80 impertinent."
Poor Elizabeth crumpled81 up in a forlorn, little, blue-checked heap. "Rude and unladylike!" Those were the condemnatory82 words her aunt so often used, but the anguish they awoke was as nothing to the awful shame that descended83 upon her soul in the avalanche84 of those unknown words. "Impertinent," she remembered to have heard somewhere before. It meant something deadly—but what shameless depths might not be revealed by "reprehensible"? And, oh dear, oh dear, she had intended to be so wise and so grown-up, and be her teacher's right hand. The beautiful teacher she loved so! That was the tragedy of poor Elizabeth's life, she was always hurting someone she loved. What a dreary85 twist of fate it was that when one's intentions were the best one was always most—"reprehensible"! The tears came dripping down upon the blue pinafore. She remembered with dismay that she had no handkerchief. She had forgotten hers in her hurry, and Mary had said she might use hers if she needed it. But she dared not even look in Mary's direction, knowing there were rows of curious eyes down there all turned upon her. So she wiped the tears away on her pinafore, a proceeding86 which Aunt Margaret had characterized as positively vulgar, but Elizabeth knew that in Miss Hillary's opinion of her nothing mattered any more.
The new teacher finished her interrupted address, and began the regular work of the school. Elizabeth was forgotten, and slowly came up from the depths of despair, mounting on the wings of future glory. Miss Hillary would be sorry some day—some day when she, Elizabeth Gordon, high on her white charger, with her velvet87 cloak streaming behind, rode swiftly past the schoolhouse, never glancing in. Yes, Miss Hillary might weep and wring88 her hands and declare she had made an awful mistake in regard to Lizzie Gordon, but it would be too late.
Vastly encouraged by these dreams, the heroine of them dried her tears, and sat listening to what was going on about her. Miss Hillary was calling each class forward, taking down their names, and testing their abilities in reading, spelling, and a few other subjects. The primary class was on the floor, and Archie was standing90, straight and sturdy, right before his sister. Elizabeth did not dare raise her head, but she peeped at her little brother from under her tangle of hair. She did hope Archie would lift the name of Gordon from the mire91 in which she had dragged it.
Archie was certainly conducting himself manfully. He spelled every word the teacher gave him, added like lightning, and read loud and clear: "Ben has a pen and a hen. The hen is in the pen. I see Ben and the hen and the pen."
Miss Hillary looked pleased, and Archie went up head. "What is your name?" she asked kindly92, and he responded, "Archie Gordon." The teacher glanced towards the culprit on the front seat. There was a strong family resemblance amongst all the Gay Gordons, and Elizabeth fairly swelled93 with restored self-respect.
The classes filed up, each in its turn, standing in a prim89 line with its toes to a chalk-mark Miss Hillary had drawn94 on the floor. Nothing exciting happened until Mary's class was called, and then Elizabeth turned cold with a new fear. Just as they reached the chalk-line, only half a dozen of them, Miss Hillary said: "As this Junior Third is so small a class, for convenience I believe I shall put the Senior Thirds with them. Senior Third class, rise! Forward!"
Now, Elizabeth was in the Senior Third. Strangely precocious95 in some ways, she was woefully lacking in many branches of school work, and barely kept a class ahead of Mary. The fear that Mary would overtake her was the one thing that spurred her to spasmodic efforts. And now, like a bolt from the blue, came the dreadful news. She and Mary were to be in the same class!
The Seniors arose and filed reluctantly forward. Rosie poked Elizabeth as she passed. Elizabeth understood Rosie's pokes better than other people's plainest statement. This one said: "Isn't this a dreadful shame? How shall we ever live it down?" And then a sudden stubborn resolution seized Elizabeth, and she sat up straight with crimsoning96 cheeks. She would not go up into Mary's class, no she wouldn't! The teacher had said she must sit there until she had learned to be mannerly. Well, she would then! She hadn't learned yet, and she likely never would. And she would sit there on that front seat until she was older than old Granny Johnstone, who spoke97 only Gaelic and had no teeth, before she would go up in the same class with Mary! Mary was a good speller, and might get ahead of her, and oh, how John and Charles Stuart and Malcolm and Jean would talk if Mary beat her at school! Elizabeth grew hot at the bare thought.
The big class had just arranged itself when one little girl held up her hand. It was Katie Price, of course. Katie always told on everybody, and was only in the Junior Third herself. "Please, teacher," said Katie, "Lizzie Gordon's in the Senior Third." "Lizzie Gordon?" The teacher looked round vaguely. The swelling list of new names was puzzling her. "Where is Lizzie Gordon?"
Elizabeth did not move. To be forgotten utterly was the best she hoped for; to be noticed was the worst thing that could happen. Mary indicated her sister by a nod, and Miss Hillary grew haughty98 again.
"Oh," she said, "never mind her at present. We will let Lizzie Gordon remain where she is for the rest of the morning." And on she went with her work, while Lizzie Gordon, the outcast, too wicked even to be included in a disgraced class, sat and hung her head in a very abasement99 of soul.
She came out of the depths once at a thrilling remark of the teacher. The double-class crowded and shoved this way and that, and Miss Hillary said, just as they were about to return to their seats: "There are four or five too many in this class. I shall examine the Seniors thoroughly100 this afternoon, and shall allow the best four to go into the Junior Fourth."
She would be one of the four! She must! Not only would it mean escape from Mary, but she would be but one class behind John and Charles Stuart! Yes, she would pass in spite of fate. If only Miss Hillary would not examine them in arithmetic or spelling or grammar it would be easy. She was equally deficient in all three, with a few disgraces in favor of spelling. But who knew but she would ask questions in history or literature! Or even make them write a composition! Elizabeth could not help knowing that in this one last subject at least she far surpassed her classmates.
Perhaps they would have to write one, and when the new teacher read it she would say: "Lizzie Gordon, you are too good for the Junior Fourth even. You may go into the Senior Fourth with your brother John and Charles Stuart MacAllister."
Elizabeth fairly ached for some distinction that would reinstate her in the teacher's good opinion. She began to build airy castles and grew positively happy with hope. She was thankful even for the unkind fate that had brought her to the front seat, for now Mary would never be able to say, "Lizzie and I were once in the same class, and she's a year and four months older than I am." Noah Clegg had said last Sunday that people should be thankful for trials, as they often brought blessing103. Elizabeth devoutly104 agreed with him. She closed her eyes and thought how thankful she should be that she had been snatched as a brand from Mary's class. No one could pray in school, of course, and sitting up straight, that would be very wicked. But she resolved that when she said her prayers that night she would add a word of fervent105 gratitude106 for her escape.
The Senior Fourth class was assembling now, the highest in the school. Elizabeth gazed in longing admiration at John and Charles Stuart. How glorious it must be away up there, and preparing for the High School, too! Miss Hillary was asking names again, "Sammy Martin, John Gordon." She paused and smiled. She had been growing more genial107 as the morning advanced and Forest Glen showed no signs of mutiny.
"There seems to be a Martin and a Gordon for every class," she remarked, and Elizabeth's heart leaped. Perhaps this was a hint that instead of two Gordons in the Third class there would be one in the Junior Fourth. "Charles Stuart MacAllister" was the next name. Miss Hillary smiled again. "Are you the Pretender?" she asked, and the Senior Fourth all laughed at Charles Stuart's expense.
"I do not like double names," she added pleasantly. "They are too cumbersome108." Elizabeth stored up the word greedily. "I shall call you Stuart, as there are four other Charlies here."
When recess109 was over, so good-humored had Miss Hillary become that she apparently110 forgot that Lizzie Gordon was to be taught how to be mannerly, and sent her to her seat to take part in the examination. Elizabeth slipped in beside Rosie, breathless with relief. Rosie had been preparing her welcome. She had sharpened the three pieces of the broken pencil to points fine and delicate as needles, she had piled all her friend's books in a neat row, and put a pink tissue-paper frill like her own around her ink-well. Elizabeth sighed happily. It was such a privilege to have a Rosie for one's friend.
Miss Hillary had paused in her work to give a little address on the proper way to wash one's slate, and to Elizabeth's joy and pride she held up Rosie as a shining example. Rosie had a big pickle111 bottle of water, and a little sponge tied to her slate by a string. Everything about Rosie was always so dainty. Elizabeth had a slate-rag somewhere, but someone had always borrowed it when she needed it, so she generally re-borrowed or used Rosie's sponge. Elizabeth wished she had been nice like Rosie and Miss Hillary had commended her. But somehow she never had time for scrubbing her desk and decorating it with rows of cards and frills of colored paper, as Rosie so often did. There were so many things to do in school. She was thankful, however, that she was not like big, fat Joel Davis across the aisle there, who spat112 on his slate and rubbed it with his sleeve. It was his action, one which Miss Hillary characterized as disgusting and unsanitary, that had called forth113 the little talk. And she ended up with the announcement that once a week she would give a short talk on "Manners and Morals."
Elizabeth scented114 a new word. "Disgusting" she knew, Aunt Margaret often used it. It meant the opposite to genteel. But "insanitary" was a discovery. She tried to store it in her mind, not daring to move her tightly folded hands towards her slate. Perhaps it was something like insanity115, and Miss Hillary meant that anyone who didn't use a slate-rag and water-bottle was crazy.
But the examination was on, and the Senior Thirds, anxious and hopeful, were soon at work. Arithmetic came first, and only the anticipation116 of better things to come, and the forlorn hope that the problem might somehow turn out right by chance, kept up Elizabeth's spirits. There were three problems, and she could make nothing of them, though she added, subtracted, divided, and multiplied, and covered her slate with figures in the hope of achieving something. She worked in some statements, too, for Rosie had advised her that written statements always looked nice, and would probably make the teacher think the question was well done anyway. So in the complex problem inquiring how many men would eat how much salt pork in how many days, Elizabeth set down carefully:
If 18 men eat 36 lbs. in 1 day,
Then 1 men eat 36 lbs. X 18 men.
It might not be right, but it looked well anyway. Rosie telegraphed her answer on her fingers, but Elizabeth shut her eyes tight and turned away. Not if she were to be put into Archie's class would she stoop to such methods to gain marks.
Spelling was not much better. There were ten awful words, all from a lesson Elizabeth had long ago given up, "Egypt and its Ruins." There were "pyramids" and "hieroglyphics," and many others quite as bad, and when she was through with them they presented an orthographical117 ruin which might put any of the fallen temples of Egypt to shame.
But all her trials were forgotten when at the end Miss Hillary announced a composition on "A Summer Day." The joy of it drove away even the remembrance of the eighteen men and their allowance of pork. Elizabeth seized a sheet of paper, and doubling up over the desk wrote furiously.
Rosie sighed at the sight of her flying pen. There was no pleasure for Rosie in writing essays. She had already written carefully and slowly, "A summer day is a beautiful time, summer is a nice season," then she stopped and enviously118 watched Elizabeth spattering ink. That young poetess was reveling in birds and flowers and rain-showers and walks through the woods, with the blue sky peeping at one through the green branches.
She paused only to consult her dictionary. She was working in the list of words culled119 from the morning address. She would show Miss Hillary that if she hadn't manners, at least she had forethought. She was compelled very reluctantly to discard some of the list, as they failed to appear in the dictionary under their new arrangement of letters. She sighed especially over "contumacious"; it was so beautifully long. But there were plenty of others. "The flowers do not grow in a disciplined way," she wrote—the word still innocent of a "c."—"The birds have high aspirations. Their deportment is very nice, but it is not always genteel." Here Elizabeth had a real inspiration. A quotation120 from Shelley's "Skylark" came into her mind. John and Charles Stuart had memorized it one evening, and the glorious rhythm of it had sung itself into her soul. There were some things one could not help learning. Then, too, as it was from the Fourth Reader, Elizabeth felt that Miss Hillary would see that she was familiar with that book and feel assured she was ready for it. So she wrote such stanzas121 as she remembered perfectly122, commencing:
"Sound of vernal showers
On the twinkling grass,
Rain-awakened flowers,
All that ever was
Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass."
There were many misspelled words, but the quotation was aptly inserted, and she added the note that the skylark was so joyous he often acted in an insanitary manner.
She was still writing swiftly when Miss Hillary said, "Fold papers." Elizabeth had barely time to finish her second poetic123 contribution. It was from her own pen this time, one verse of a long poem she had written in secret evenings, after Mary had gone to sleep:
"Oh beautiful summer thou art so fare,
With thy flours and thy trees that grow everywhere,
The birds on the bows are singing so gay,
Oh how I love them on a bright summer's day!
"P.S.—This pome is original—that is, made up by the author.
"Lizzie Gordon."
"Rosamond Ellen Carrick,
Forest Glen,
Ontario,
Canada,
North America,
Western Hemisphere."
All of which helped to lengthen125 out her too brief contribution. She was now ready to assist her friend in her last hasty scramble126. Elizabeth had no blotting-paper—she never had. Rosie provided a piece and the composition was ready at last. Elizabeth sighed over it. There were so many clever things she might have put in had she only had time. There was "viz.," for instance, instead of "that is," in the last sentence. "Viz." sounded so learned.
When the afternoon recess came, Miss Hillary called Elizabeth to her. She had an essay before her, and she was looking puzzled, and not nearly so stern.
"Elizabeth," she said gently, "what were you writing on your slate this morning when I was speaking?"
Elizabeth's head drooped127. In a shamed whisper she confessed that Miss Hillary's wonderful vocabulary had tempted128 her. She dared not look up and did not see that her teacher's pretty mouth twitched129.
"Well," she said in a very pleasant tone, "you did not behave so badly after all. But remember, you must always sit still and listen when I am talking."
Elizabeth's head came up. Her face was radiant, her gray eyes shone starlike.
"Oh, Miss Hillary!" she gasped130, overcome with gratitude at this giving back of her self-respect. Miss Hillary picked up the next essay, and the little girl turned way. But she could not leave without one word of hope.
"Oh, Miss Hillary," she whispered again, "do you think you could let me pass? If you'll only not put me in Mary's class, I'll, I'll—I believe I could learn to spell!" she finally added, as the most extravagant131 promise she could possibly make.
Miss Hillary smiled again. She looked kindly at the small, anxious figure, the pleading face with its big eyes, the slim, brown hands twisting nervously the long, heavy braid of brown hair with the golden strand132 through it.
"Well, I shall do my best," she said. "You can certainly write, even if you can't do arithmetic. Now run away and play."
And, wild with hope and joy, Elizabeth dashed down the aisle and out of the door, so noisy and boisterous133 that for a moment her teacher felt constrained134 to call her back and give her another lesson in deportment. For Miss Hillary did not yet understand.
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1
basking
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| v.晒太阳，取暖( bask的现在分词 )；对…感到乐趣；因他人的功绩而出名；仰仗…的余泽 | |
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2
labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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3
orchard
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| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
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4
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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5
plumes
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| 羽毛( plume的名词复数 )； 羽毛饰； 羽毛状物； 升上空中的羽状物 | |
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6
herald
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| vt.预示...的来临，预告，宣布，欢迎 | |
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aster
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| n.紫菀属植物 | |
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8
maturity
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| n.成熟；完成；(支票、债券等)到期 | |
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9
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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10
clans
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| 宗族( clan的名词复数 )； 氏族； 庞大的家族； 宗派 | |
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11
joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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12
toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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13
swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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14
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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15
alders
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| n.桤木( alder的名词复数 ) | |
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16
willows
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| n.柳树( willow的名词复数 )；柳木 | |
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17
stumps
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| （被砍下的树的）树桩( stump的名词复数 )； 残肢； （板球三柱门的）柱； 残余部分 | |
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18
tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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19
spikes
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| n.穗( spike的名词复数 )；跑鞋；（防滑）鞋钉；尖状物v.加烈酒于( spike的第三人称单数 )；偷偷地给某人的饮料加入（更多）酒精（ 或药物）；把尖状物钉入；打乱某人的计划 | |
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20
clumps
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| n.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的名词复数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声v.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的第三人称单数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声 | |
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21
fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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22
musk
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| n.麝香, 能发出麝香的各种各样的植物，香猫 | |
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23
foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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24
embroidery
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| n.绣花，刺绣；绣制品 | |
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25
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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26
vista
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| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
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27
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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28
creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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29
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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30
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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31
slabs
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| n.厚板，平板，厚片( slab的名词复数 )；厚胶片 | |
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32
moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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33
goggle
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| n.瞪眼，转动眼珠，护目镜；v.瞪眼看，转眼珠 | |
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34
poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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35
poke
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| n.刺，戳，袋；vt.拨开，刺，戳；vi.戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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36
swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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37
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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38
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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39
bowers
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| n.（女子的）卧室( bower的名词复数 )；船首锚；阴凉处；鞠躬的人 | |
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40
beckon
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| v.(以点头或打手势)向...示意，召唤 | |
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41
stony
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| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
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42
slash
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| vi.大幅度削减；vt.猛砍，尖锐抨击，大幅减少；n.猛砍，斜线，长切口，衣衩 | |
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43
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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44
arbor
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| n.凉亭；树木 | |
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45
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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46
carvings
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| n.雕刻( carving的名词复数 )；雕刻术；雕刻品；雕刻物 | |
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47
sagging
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| 下垂[沉，陷]，松垂，垂度 | |
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48
contingent
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| adj.视条件而定的；n.一组，代表团，分遣队 | |
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49
speculations
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| n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 )；思考；投机活动；推断 | |
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50
cuffs
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| n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打，拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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51
vowed
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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52
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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53
flopping
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| n.贬调v.（指书、戏剧等）彻底失败( flop的现在分词 )；（因疲惫而）猛然坐下；（笨拙地、不由自主地或松弛地）移动或落下；砸锅 | |
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54
varnish
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| n.清漆；v.上清漆；粉饰 | |
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55
deficient
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| adj.不足的，不充份的，有缺陷的 | |
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56
purport
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| n.意义，要旨，大要；v.意味著，做为...要旨，要领是... | |
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57
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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58
garnished
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| v.给（上餐桌的食物）加装饰( garnish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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59
slate
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| n.板岩，石板，石片，石板色，候选人名单；adj.暗蓝灰色的，含板岩的；vt.用石板覆盖，痛打，提名，预订 | |
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60
aspirations
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| 强烈的愿望( aspiration的名词复数 )； 志向； 发送气音； 发 h 音 | |
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61
alluring
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| adj.吸引人的，迷人的 | |
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62
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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63
squeaking
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| v.短促地尖叫( squeak的现在分词 )；吱吱叫；告密；充当告密者 | |
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64
pokes
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| v.伸出( poke的第三人称单数 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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65
eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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66
betokened
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| v.预示，表示( betoken的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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67
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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68
lull
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| v.使安静，使入睡，缓和，哄骗；n.暂停，间歇 | |
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69
syllables
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| n.音节( syllable的名词复数 ) | |
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70
curtail
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| vt.截短，缩短；削减 | |
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71
aisle
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| n.（教堂、教室、戏院等里的）过道，通道 | |
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72
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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73
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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74
spasm
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| n.痉挛，抽搐；一阵发作 | |
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75
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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76
apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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77
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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78
faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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79
reprehensible
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| adj.该受责备的 | |
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80
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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81
crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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82
condemnatory
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| adj. 非难的，处罚的 | |
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83
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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84
avalanche
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| n.雪崩，大量涌来 | |
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85
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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86
proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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87
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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88
wring
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| n.扭绞；v.拧，绞出，扭 | |
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89
prim
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| adj.拘泥形式的，一本正经的；n.循规蹈矩，整洁；adv.循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
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90
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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91
mire
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| n.泥沼，泥泞；v.使...陷于泥泞，使...陷入困境 | |
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92
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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93
swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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94
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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95
precocious
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| adj.早熟的；较早显出的 | |
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96
crimsoning
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| 变为深红色（crimson的现在分词形式） | |
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97
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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98
haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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99
abasement
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| n.滥用 | |
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100
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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101
penitent
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| adj.后悔的；n.后悔者；忏悔者 | |
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102
pinnacle
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| n.尖塔，尖顶，山峰；(喻)顶峰 | |
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103
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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104
devoutly
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| adv.虔诚地，虔敬地，衷心地 | |
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105
fervent
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| adj.热的，热烈的，热情的 | |
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106
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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107
genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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108
cumbersome
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| adj.笨重的，不便携带的 | |
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109
recess
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| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
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110
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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111
pickle
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| n.腌汁，泡菜；v.腌，泡 | |
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112
spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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113
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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114
scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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115
insanity
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| n.疯狂，精神错乱；极端的愚蠢，荒唐 | |
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116
anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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117
orthographical
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| adj.正字法的，拼字正确的 | |
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118
enviously
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| adv.满怀嫉妒地 | |
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119
culled
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| v.挑选，剔除( cull的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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120
quotation
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| n.引文，引语，语录；报价，牌价，行情 | |
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121
stanzas
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| 节，段( stanza的名词复数 ) | |
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122
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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123
poetic
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| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
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124
inscribed
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| v.写，刻( inscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；内接 | |
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125
lengthen
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| vt.使伸长，延长 | |
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126
scramble
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| v.爬行，攀爬，杂乱蔓延，碎片，片段，废料 | |
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127
drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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128
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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129
twitched
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| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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130
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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131
extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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132
strand
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| vt.使（船）搁浅，使（某人）困于（某地） | |
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133
boisterous
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| adj.喧闹的，欢闹的 | |
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134
constrained
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| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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