“Don’t you do it,” Rosalie cautioned Emmy Lou. “Look at her waist.”
Miss Kilrain came into the High School with some other new things—the new text-books.
There had been violent opposition to the new books, and as violent fight for them. The papers had been full of it, and Emmy Lou had read the particulars of it.
A Mr. Bryan had been in favour of the change. Emmy Lou remembered him, as a Principal, way back in the beginning of things. Mr. Bryan was quoted in the papers as saying:
“Modern methods are the oil that lubricates the wheels of progress.”
Professor Koenig, who was opposed to the change, was Principal at the High School. He said that the text-books in use were standards, and that the Latin Series were classics.
“Just what is a classic?” Emmy Lou had asked, looking up from the paper.
Uncle Charlie had previously been reading it himself.
“Professor Koenig is one,” said he.
Professor Koenig was little, his beard was grizzled, and the dome of his head was bald. He wore gold spectacles, and he didn’t always hear, at which times he would bend his head sideways and peer through his glasses. “Hey?” Professor Koenig would say. But he knew, one felt that he knew, and that he was making his classes know, too. One was conscious of something definite behind Professor Koenig’s way of closing the book over one forefinger and tapping upon it with the other. It was a purpose.