"To-morrow I will make this right," he would say, and forever, "To-morrow, to-morrow!"
But the years passed and William Koehler grew more mad and John Hartman more rich and more silent, and the silver service lay deep in the pit between the church and the Sunday School. The little building was solid, it was amply large, it would serve many generations. Katy Gaumer, brushed out of his path by John Hartman as he sought the door that November day, recalled nothing of the incident except that her childish dignity had been wounded. It was Katy herself who said that nothing ever happened in Millerstown!
Presently the beating of John Hartman's pulse quickened; it became difficult for him to draw a long, free, comfortable breath. Dr. Benner, whom he consulted, said that he must eat less and must walk more. John Hartman said to himself that now, before another day passed, he would go to the little house on the mountain-side and begin to set right the awful wrong of his youth. But still he planned to go to-morrow instead of to-day. Finally, one afternoon in May, he had his horse put into the buggy and drove slowly up the mountain road.
CHAPTER VI
THE MILLERSTOWN SCHOOL
The 24th of December, with its great Christmas entertainment, had closed a term of average accomplishment in the Millerstown school. Alvin Koehler and David Hartman, who composed the highest class, had been, the one as idle, the other as sullen, as usual. The children had learned about as much as the Millerstown children were accustomed to learn in an equal time, they had been reprimanded about as often. The teacher had roared at them with the vehemence usually required for the management of such young savages as Coonie Schnable and Ollie Kuhns and Katy Gaumer. Katy, in the second class, had not nearly enough to keep her busy; there remained on her hands too many moments to be devoted to the invention of mischief.
But now, suddenly, began a new era in the Millerstown school. Mr. Carpenter, recovering at happy ease in his home in a neighboring village from the strain put upon him by the stupidity and impertinence and laziness of his pupils, was to be further irritated and annoyed.
School opened on New Year's morning, and Mr. Carpenter rose a little late from his comfortable bed at Sarah Ann Mohr's and ate hurriedly his breakfast of delicious panhaas and smoked sausage. Haste at meals always tried the sybarite soul of Mr. Carpenter. He was cross because he had to get up; he was cross because he had to teach school; he was cross at Sarah Ann because she urged him to further speed. Sarah Ann always mothered and grandmothered the teacher.
"You will come late, teacher. You will have to hurry yourself. It is not a good thing to be late on New Year's already, teacher. New Year,"—went on Sarah Ann in her provokingly placid way,—"New Year should be always a fresh start in our lives."