The stubby gentleman seemed actually to puff up a bit, “as a toad might,” the newcomer found herself thinking, but, remembering his present mission, he explained the duties and requirements of the position, then added, as he glanced almost scornfully at the silent, listening group of four children and a burro, “It sure is onfortunate. Miss Bayley, that the pupils from these here parts are so no-account, my own Jessica bein’ exceptionated.”
His glance turned with pride to the snub-nosed child in the buggy. Then, in a whispered aside: “It’s lucky for you that you’ve got one promisin’ pupil like my daughter, Miss Bayley. ’Twould be dull work teachin’ if you didn’t have nothin’ but dumb young ’uns like those Pine Tree Martins.” He paused, seeming to expect comment. This, then, was Miss Bayley’s moment for being diplomatic.
“I am sure that I shall find your little daughter a very receptive pupil, Mr. Archer,” she said graciously. This time it was certain that Mr. Sethibald had puffed. He had never heard the word “receptive” before, but it had a most complimentary sound.
“Yes, ma’am, Miss Bayley, you’ll find the little sheep-princess all that an’ more, much more, ma’am.” He was unctuously rubbing his hands as he spoke. Then going to the side of the vehicle and holding out a bediamonded hand, he added, “Come now, Jessica, darlin’, and meet the new teacher, her as is goin’ to teach you lots of nice things.”
He lifted the small girl to the ground, and Miss Bayley advanced, her hand held out, but the little “sheep-princess” drew back and clung to her father.
The teacher found herself comparing this lack of manners with the natural graciousness of Carolina, but the father evidently considered his daughter’s behavior as being praiseworthy.
“Shy little thing,” he commented in another of his quite audible asides. “Not bold like that Carry Martin.”
Then the unexpected happened. The little girl referred to darted forward with catlike swiftness. “My name is not Carry Martin,” she cried. “It’s Carolina, and my folks are—” She was drawn back and quieted by poor Dixie, who looked her misery. Teacher, quite at a loss what to say, glanced at the shy and model Jessica at that moment and saw her sticking out her tongue and tilting her nose at the Martins.
Miss Bayley sighed. There were evidently snags ahead, but Mrs. Archer was speaking. “Sethibald,” she said, with a desire to impress the new teacher with her own great importance, “it’s time now that you were a-drivin’ me over to Genoa, where I have to speak in front of a mothers’ meetin’ on how to bring up the young.” Then, turning to Miss Bayley, she added condescendingly, “Me and you’ll be great friends, I’m sure, bein’ as we’re both sot on upliftin’ folks in this here neighborhood from shiftlessness and ignorance.”
Before the astonished young teacher could reply, the stubby, reddish gentleman had climbed up on the front seat, and the restive white horses had started off down the pine-edged lane at a brisk speed, and Josephine Bayley, not knowing whether to laugh or cry, led the way into the large bare room of the old schoolhouse, where she was to spend many a day finding new problems and new pleasures. There were ten pupils in all. Two of them, Mercedes and Franciscito Guadalupe, had but recently come to that mountain country from Mexico.