Dawn of the Morning

by Grace Livingston Hill

One of the selectmen, who lived near the school-house, came over with the key, and stayed about the place, opening the windows and setting the teacher's desk in order.

The scholars were all seated demurely with books before them when the minister came walking in with Dawn, shy and smiling, by his side. Not one of them seemed to be looking her over curiously, for it was done from the side of their eyes; but a kind of groan went softly over the back rows, where the bigger boys sat, as much as to say, "This job is too easy. It's scarcely worth our attention. Why didn't you send us some one worthy of our valor?"

Dawn looked them over, bright-eyed, her heart beating a trifle fast, but her face on the whole quite confident and happy. They noted the confidence in the tilt of her chin, and it gave them intense pleasure to think how soon they could dispel it. They failed, however, to note, the firmness of that chin, or the determination in the line of the softly curving red lips. They looked at their victim warily, and rejoiced in her youth and beauty. They had vanquished many before, but never one so lovely, so child-like, or so confident. It was an insult to their manhood that the selectmen should have thought she could teach them.

The minister introduced Miss Montgomery to the selectman, who shook hands with her, wished her well, and departed. Then the good old man made a few gentle remarks to the effect that they should reflect on the goodness of the new teacher, to whom he referred as "our young friend," in coming to teach them and guide them into the devious ways of knowledge, and that they should refrain from all annoying conduct during her stay, and behave as model scholars should.

The minister had spent much thought upon this speech, and felt that he had worded it in such a way as to appeal to the sympathy of all the children. In all his mild and reasonable life, he had never been able to comprehend the sinful workings of the unregenerate heart of a boy. He could conceive of no reason why a boy or a girl would be mischievous in school, if the matter were presented rightly to their minds. He felt that he had put it before them as it should be made to appear, and, looking into the demure faces, he hoped that he had accomplished his end, and that the sweet young stranger would have opportunity to prove that she was capable of teaching that school. Though exceedingly doubtful of the experiment, he wanted her to have a fair chance.

After giving one long, lingering look toward the back row of scholars whose studious appearance was almost portentous in its gravity, the old clergyman sighed with relief and turned with a smile of farewell toward the new teacher.

"Miss Montgomery, I will leave you with your school," he said. "I'm sure that they all appreciate how hard is the first day in a new school, and that they will do their best to make it easy for you."

He bowed and went out. His last glance had shown him a vision of serious faces bent upon open books; yet he felt a strange and apparently most uncalled for foreboding.

Dawn surveyed the whole quiet room with a smile, then she untied her bonnet, took off her cape, and carried them to the hook in the corner, obviously used for that purpose by other teachers.

How did the boys on the back seat time the minister exactly, so as to know just the instant he reached the corner beyond the blacksmith's and was out of hearing?