The small boy from the First Reader, legs apart, hands in knickerbocker pockets, gazed at the crowd of irresolute elders with scornful wonder. “What you wanter do,” stated the small boy, “is find Uncle Michael; he keeps the keys. He went past my house a while ago, going home. He lives in Rose Lane Alley. ’Taint much outer my way,” condescendingly; “I’ll take you there.” And meekly they followed in his footsteps.
It was dark when a motley throng of uncle, aunties, visiting lady, neighbors, and children went climbing the cavernous, echoing stairway of the dark school building behind the toiling figure of the skeptical Uncle Michael, lantern in hand.
“Ain’t I swept over every inch of this here school-house myself and carried the trash outten a dust-pan?” grumbled Uncle Michael, with what inference nobody just then stopped to inquire. Then with the air of a mistreated, aggrieved person who feels himself a victim, he paused before a certain door on the second floor, and fitted a key in its lock. “Here it is then, No. 9, to satisfy the lady,” and he flung open the door. The light of Uncle Michael’s lantern fell full upon the wide-eyed, terror-smitten person of Emmy Lou, in her desk, awaiting, her miserable little heart knew not what horror.
“She—she told me to stay,” sobbed Emmy Lou in Aunt Cordelia’s arms, “and I stayed; and the Man came, and I hid in the coal-box!”
And Aunt Cordelia, holding her close, sobbed too, and Aunt Katie cried, and Aunt Louise and the lady visitor cried, and Uncle Charlie passed his plump white hand over his eyes, and said, “Pshaw!” And the teacher of the First Reader, when she heard about it next day, cried hardest of them all, so hard that not even Aunt Cordelia could cherish a feeling against her.
HARE-AND-TORTOISE OR THE BLISS OF IGNORANCE
There was head and foot in the Second Reader. Emmy Lou heard it whispered the day of her entrance into the Second-Reader room.
Once, head and foot had meant Aunt Cordelia above the coffee tray and Uncle Charlie below the carving-knife. But at school head and foot meant little girls bobbing up and down, descending and ascending the scale of excellency.