The sub-committee, after most carefully reviewing the whole of the evidence, advise: “That it is to the interest of elementary education in this village that the head teacher should seek other employment with as little delay as possible. That no punishment book having been kept in this school by the head teacher prior to this occurrence she be directed faithfully to keep such book.”
So the forces of reaction had triumphed. First, accused and condemned by false stories put in the mouths of babes, eight and nine years’ old respectively; secondly, because the Higdons had written to the Barnardo Institution hoping to receive real justice from an impartial tribunal, not local village justice; thirdly, insulted about an ancient rule of Sir John Gorst’s re punishment book, which other teachers in the county did not possess. Thus they were supposed to have received their quietus.
The inquiry was practically a funless farce. Higdon and his wife received short notice to vacate the schoolhouse (left in the lurch by the N.U.T., as at Wood Dalling and at Burston, where the representative, after promising that a slander action would take place as soon as possible, became frightened at his own bravery, and thought better of it), they felt inclined to understudy poor Joe, and move on.
At this juncture all seemed lost. The Higdons, poor financially and politically, having no rich Liberal nor Tory champion, were confronted with that “remove to a sphere more genial,” which their most Christian friends desired.
The Burston Dyaks seemed to have succeeded, when all at once a change came o’er the scene. Here entereth the school children. Not meaningless are the beautiful words, “A little child shall lead them.”
THE CHILDREN STRIKE.
The school children struck. They refused to attend the Council School. When they knew their beloved teachers had been victimised they refused to go back. They went on strike.
This was the finest, spontaneous, and most loving act of kindness that kind teachers ever had showered upon them. It was a fitting tribute and a real answer to all the calumny and slander.
Children know when they are loved. They cannot pretend as grown-ups can. Had Higdon and his wife been disciples of Whackford Squeers or advocates of the “Big Stick,” the children would gladly have sung Tosti’s “Good-bye for ever,” and good shuttance. But they struck in sympathy.
Here are we confronted with another great factor. The mothers backed them up womanfully. There are at present 56 children on Higdons’ books. There’s a juxtaposition, as the late-lamented Dominie Sampson might have remarked. The Babes o’ Burston and the Burston Braves.