The Brown Mouse Page 12

  CHAPTER XII

  FACING TRIAL

  A distinct sensation ran through the Woodruff school, but the schoolmasterand a group of five big boys and three girls engaged in a very unclasslikeconference in the back of the room were all unconscious of it. Thegeography classes had recited, and the language work was on. Those toosmall for these studies were playing a game under the leadership of JinnieSimms, who had been promoted to the position of weed-seed monitor.

  The game was forfeits. Each child had been encouraged to bring some sortof weed from the winter fields--preferably one the seed of which stillclung to the dried receptacles--but anyhow, a weed. Some pupils hadbrought merely empty tassels, some bare stalks, and some seeds which theyhad winnowed from the grain in their father's bins; and with them theyplayed forfeits. They counted out by the "arey, Ira, ickery an'" method,and somebody was "It." Then, in order, they presented to him a seed, stalkor head of a weed, and if the one who was It could tell the name of theweed, the child who brought the specimen became It, and the name waswritten on slates or tablets, and the new It told where the weed or seedwas collected. If any pupil brought in a specimen the name of which hehimself could not correctly give, he paid a forfeit. If a specimen wasbrought in not found in the school cabinet--which was coming to contain aconsiderable collection--it was placed there, and the task allotted to thebest penman in the school to write its proper label. All this causedexcitement, and not a little buzz--but it ceased when the countysuperintendent entered the room.

  For it was after the first of January, and Jennie was visiting theWoodruff school.

  The group in the back of the room went on with its conference, obliviousof the entrance of Superintendent Jennie. Their work was rather absorbing,being no more nor less than the compilation of the figures of a cow censusof the district.

  "Altogether," said Mary Talcott, "we have in the district one hundred andfifty-three cows."

  "I don't make it that," said Raymond Simms. "I don't get but a hundred andthirty-eight."

  "The trouble is," said Newton Bronson, "that Mary's counting in the Baileyherd of Shorthorns."

  "Well, they're cows, ain't they?" interrogated Mary.

  "Not for this census," said Raymond.

  "Why not?" asked Mary. "They're the prettiest cows in the neighborhood."

  "Scotch Shorthorns," said Newton, "and run with their calves."

  "Leave them out," said Jim, "and to-morrow, I want each one to tell in thelanguage class, in three hundred words or less, whether there are enoughcows in the district to justify a cooperative creamery, and give thereason. You'll find articles in the farm papers if you look through thecard index. Now, how about the census in the adjoining districts?"

  "There are more than two hundred within four miles on the roads leadingwest," said a boy.

  "My father and I counted up about a hundred beyond us," said Mary. "But Icouldn't get the exact number."

  "Why," said Raymond, "we could find six hundred dairy cows in thisneighborhood, within an hour's drive."

  "Six hundred!" scoffed Newton. "You're crazy! In an hour's drive?"

  "I mean an hour's drive each way," said Raymond.

  "I believe we could," said Jim. "And after we find how far we will have togo to get enough cows, if half of them patronized the creamery, we'll workover the savings the business would make, if we could get the prices forbutter paid the Wisconsin cooperative creameries, as compared with whatthe centralizers pay us, on a basis of the last six months. Who's inpossession of that correspondence with the Wisconsin creameries?"

  "I have it," said Raymond. "I'm hectographing a lot of arithmetic problemsfrom it."

  "How do you do, Mr. Irwin!" It was the superintendent who spoke.

  Jim's brain whirled little prismatic clouds before his vision, as he roseand shook Jennie's extended hand.

  "Let me give you a chair," said he.

  "Oh, no, thank you!" she returned. "I'll just make myself at home. I knowmy way about in this schoolhouse, you know!"

  She smiled at the children, and went about looking at their work--whichwas not noticeably disturbed, by reason of the fact that visitors weremuch more frequent now than ever before, and were no rarity. Certainly,Jennie Woodruff was no novelty, since they had known her all their lives.Most of the embarrassment was Jim's. He rose to the occasion, however,went through the routine of the closing day, and dismissed the flock, notomitting making an engagement with a group of boys for that evening tocome back and work on the formalin treatment for smut in seed grains, andthe blue-vitriol treatment for seed potatoes.

  "We hadn't time for these things," said he to the county superintendent,"in the regular class work--and it's getting time to take them up if weare to clean out the smut in next year's crop."

  They repeated Whittier's _Corn Song_ in concert, and school was out.

  Alone with her in the old schoolhouse, Jim confronted Jennie in the flesh.She felt a sense of his agitation, but if she had known the power of it,she would have been astonished. Since that Christmas afternoon when shehad undertaken to follow Mr. Peterson's advice and line Yim Irwin up, Jimhad gone through an inward transformation. He had passed from a late,cold, backward sexual spring, into a warm June of the spirit, in which hehad walked amid roses and lilies with Jennie. He was in love with her. Heknew how insane it was, how much less than nothing had taken place in hiscircumstances to justify the hope that he could ever emerge from the statein which she would not say "Humph!" at the thought that he could marry heror any one else. Yet, he had made up his mind that he would marry JennieWoodruff .... She ought never have tried to line him up. She knew not whatshe did.

  He saw her through clouds of rose and pink; but she looked at him as at afoolish man who was making trouble for her, chasing rainbows at herexpense, and deeply vexing her. She was in a cold official frame of mind.

  "Jim," said she, "do you know that you are facing trouble?"

  "Trouble," said Jim, "is the natural condition of a man in my state ofmind. But it is going to be a delicious sort of tribulation."

  "I don't know what you mean," she replied in perfect honesty.

  "Then I don't know what you mean," replied Jim.

  "Jim," she said pleadingly, "I want you to give up this sort of teaching.Can't you see it's all wrong?"

  "No," answered Jim, in much the manner of a man who has been stabbed byhis sweetheart. "I can't see that it's wrong. It's the only sort I can do.What do you see wrong in it?"

  "Oh, I can see some very wonderful things in it," said Jennie, "but itcan't be done in the Woodruff District. It may be correct in theory, butit won't work in practise."

  "Jennie," said he, "when a thing won't work, it isn't correct in theory."

  "Well, then, Jim," said she, "why do you keep on with it?"

  "It works," said Jim. "Anything that's correct in theory will work. If thetheory seems correct, and yet won't work, it's because something is wrongin an unsuspected way with the theory. But my theory is correct, and itworks."

  "But the district is against it."

  "Who are the district?"

  "The school board are against it."

  "The school board elected me after listening to an explanation of mytheories as to the new sort of rural school in which I believe. I assumethat they commissioned me to carry out my ideas."

  "Oh, Jim!" cried Jennie. "That's sophistry! They all voted for you so youwouldn't be without support. Each wanted you to have just one vote. Nobodywanted you elected. They were all surprised. You know that!"

  "They stood by and saw the contract signed," said Jim, "and--yes, Jennie,I _am_ dealing in sophistry! I got the school by a sort of shell-game,which the board worked on themselves. But that doesn't prove that thedistrict is against me. I believe the people are for me, now, Jennie. Ireally do!"

  Jennie rose and walked to the rear of the room and back, twice. When shespoke, there was decision in her tone--and Jim felt that it was hostiledecision.

  "As an officer," she said rath
er grandly, "my relations with the districtare with the school board on the one hand, and with your competency as ateacher on the other."

  "Has it come to that?" asked Jim. "Well, I have rather expected it."

  His tone was weary. The Lincolnian droop in his great, sad, mournful mouthaccentuated the resemblance to the martyr president. Possibly his feelingswere not entirely different from those experienced by Lincoln at somecrises of doubt, misunderstanding and depression.

  "If you can't change your methods," said Jennie, "I suggest that youresign."

  "Do you think," said Jim, "that changing my methods would appease the menwho feel that they are made laughing-stocks by having elected me?"

  Jennie was silent; for she knew that the school board meant to pursuetheir policy of getting rid of the accidental incumbent regardless of hismethods.

  "They would never call off their dogs," said Jim.

  "But your methods would make a great difference with my decision," saidJennie.

  "Are you to be called upon to decide?" asked Jim.

  "A formal complaint against you for incompetency," she replied, "has beenlodged in my office, signed by the three directors. I shall be obliged totake notice of it."

  "And do you think," queried Jim, "that my abandonment of the things inwhich I believe in the face of this attack would prove to your mind that Iam competent? Or would it show me incompetent?"

  Again Jennie was silent.

  "I guess," said Jim, "that we'll have to stand or fall on things as theyare."

  "Do you refuse to resign?" asked Jennie.

  "Sometimes I think it's not worth while to try any longer," said Jim. "Andyet, I believe that in my way I'm working on the question which must besolved if this nation is to stand--the question of making the farm andfarm life what they should be and may well be. At this moment, I feel likesurrendering--for your sake more than mine; but I'll have to think aboutit. Suppose I refuse to resign?"

  Jennie had drawn on her gloves, and stood ready for departure.

  "Unless you resign before the twenty-fifth," said she, "I shall hear thepetition for your removal on that date. You will be allowed to be presentand answer the charges against you. The charges are incompetency. I bidyou good evening!"

  "Incompetency!" The disgraceful word, representing everything he hadalways despised, rang through Jim's mind as he walked home. He could thinkof nothing else as he sat at the simple supper which he could scarcelytaste. Incompetent! Well, had he not always been incompetent, except inthe use of his muscles? Had he not always been a dreamer? Were not all hisdreams as foreign to life and common sense as the Milky Way from theearth? What reason was there for thinking that this crusade of his forbetter schools had any sounder foundation than his dream of beingpresident, or a great painter, or a poet or novelist or philosopher? Hewas just a hayseed, a rube, a misfit, as odd as Dick's hatband, an off ox.He _was_ incompetent. He picked up a pen, and began writing. He wrote, "Tothe Honorable the Board of Education of the Independent District of ----"And he heard a tap at the door. His mother admitted Colonel Woodruff.

  "Hello, Jim," said he.

  "Good evening, Colonel," said Jim. "Take a chair, won't you?"

  "No," replied the colonel. "I thought I'd see if you and the boys at theschoolhouse can't tell me something about the smut in my wheat. I heardyou were going to work on that to-night."

  "I had forgotten!" said Jim.

  "I wondered if you hadn't," said the colonel, "and so I came by for you. Iwas waiting up the road. Come on, and ride up with me."

  The colonel had always been friendly, but there was a new note in hismanner to-night. He was almost deferential. If he had been talking toSenator Cummins or the president of the state university, his tone couldnot have been more courteous, more careful to preserve the amenities duefrom man to man. He worked with the class on the problem of smut. Heoffered to aid the boys in every possible way in their campaign againstscab in potatoes. He suggested some tests which would show the real valueof the treatment. The boys were in a glow of pride at this cooperationwith Colonel Woodruff. This was real work! Jim and the colonel went awaytogether. It had been a great evening.

  "Jim," said the colonel, "can these kids spell?"

  "You mean these boys?"

  "I mean the school."

  "I think," said Jim, "that they can outspell any school about here."

  "Good," said the colonel. "How are they about reading aloud?"

  "Better than they were when I took hold."

  "How about arithmetic and the other branches? Have you sort of kept themup to the course of study?"

  "I have carried them in a course parallel to the text-books," said Jim,"and covering the same ground. But it has been vocational work, youknow--related to life."

  "Well," said the colonel, "if I were you, I'd put them over a rapid reviewof the text-books for a few days--say between now and the twenty-fifth."

  "What for?"

  "Oh, nothing--just to please me .... And say, Jim, I glanced over acommunication you have started to the more or less Honorable Board ofEducation."

  "Yes?"

  "Well, don't finish it .... And say, Jim, I think I'll give myself theluxury of being a wild-eyed reformer for once."

  "Yes," said Jim, dazed.

  "And if you think, Jim, that you've got no friends, just remember that I'mfor you."

  "Thank you, Colonel."

  "And we'll show them they're in a horse race."

  "I don't see ..." said Jim.

  "You're not supposed to see," said the colonel, "but you can bet thatwe'll be with them at the finish; and, by thunder! while they're getting afull meal, we'll get at least a lunch. See?"

  "But Jennie says," began Jim.

  "Don't tell me what she says," said the colonel. "She's acting accordingto her judgment, and her lights and other organs of perception, and Idon't think it fittin' that her father should try to influence herofficial conduct. But you go on and review them common branches, and keepyour nerve. I haven't felt so much like a scrap since the day we stormedLookout Mountain. I kinder like being a wild-eyed reformer, Jim."