"It's harder to catch up," said Ernestine, "than to keep straight on; and I think if we'd all pray for help not to neglect our duties, we'd find it easier."
None of the girls laughed at this, for Ernestine was so devoted to her ideas of religion, and so brave in the profession of them, that if she thought it was her duty, she would have knelt down right there and prayed aloud for them all.
"Well, this isn't learning the 'Gem,'" said Fannie Allen decisively; and then for a few moments nothing was heard but the scratching of pencils, as Miriam went on dictating:
"One by one thy duties wait thee,
Let thy whole strength go to each,
Let no future dreams elate thee,
Learn thou first what these can teach."
After the bell had rung for school to commence, the afternoon wore dismally away. A steady, drenching rain was pouring down as if it intended never to stop. Under the circumstances there could be no recess, which added to the general feeling of weariness, restlessness and disgust.
Each recitation was a recapitulation, which made the more studious or those with the better memories feel as if there were "nothing new under the sun," and gave to the triflers, or those to whom study was a continual climbing of the "Hill Difficulty," a confused impression of hearing something they had heard before, but failed to remember just when or where or how.
To add to the discomfort, there was much copying to be done from the blackboard, and, as it was dark and gloomy, there was a complaint of not being able to see, until the front seats were filled with a crowd of tired, discontented girls, with their young faces puckered up into all sorts of frowns and grimaces. Even the best-natured among the teachers were conscious of an utter failure to keep from showing irritation, and they were made to sigh for a royal road both to learning and to teaching. It was with a general sigh of relief that the bell announcing the hour of dismission was heard.