She had no curiosity to which she would have confessed, about the relations between Jim Irwin and his “star pupil,” that young Brunhilde—Bettina Hansen; but her official duty required her to observe the attitude of pupils to teachers—Bettina among them. Clearly, Jim was looked upon by the girls, large and small, as a possession of theirs. They competed for the task of keeping his desk in order, and of dusting and tidying up the schoolroom. There was something of exaltation of sentiment in this. Bettina’s eyes followed him about the room in a devotional sort of way; but so, too, did those of the ten-year-olds. He was loved, that was clear, by Bettina, Calista Simms and all the rest—an excellent thing in a school.
All the same, Jennie met Jim rather oftener after the curious conversation between those rather low fellows, Pete and the trouble shooter. As autumn approached, and the time came for Jim to begin to think of his trip to Ames, Colonel Woodruff’s hint that she should assume charge of the problem of Jim’s clothes for the occasion, came more and more often to her mind. Would Jim be able to buy suitable clothes? Would he understand that he ought not to appear in the costume which was tolerable in the Woodruff District only because the people there were accustomed to seeing him dressed like a tramp? Could she approach the subject with any degree of safety? Really these were delicate questions; and considering the fact that Jennie had quite dismissed her old sweetheart from the list of eligibles—had never actually admitted him to it, in fact—they assumed great importance to her mind. Once, only a little more than a year ago, she had scoffed at Jim’s mention of the fact that he might think of marrying; and now she could not think of saying to him kindly, “Jim, you really must have some better clothes to wear when you go to Ames!” It would have been far easier last summer.
Somehow, Jim had been acquiring dignity and unapproachability. She must sidle up to the subject. She did. She took him into her runabout one day as he was striding toward town in that plowed-ground manner of his, and gave him a spin over to the fair grounds and two or three times around the half-mile track.
“I’m going to Ames to hear your speech,” said she.
“I’m glad of that,” said Jim. “More of the farmers are going from this neighborhood than ever before. I’ll feel at home, if they all sit together where I can talk at them.”
“Who’s going?” asked Jennie.
“The Bronsons, Con Bonner and Nils Hansen and Bettina,” replied Jim. “That’s all from our district—and Columbus Brown and probably others from near-by localities.”
“I shall have to have some clothes,” said Jennie.
Jim failed to respond to this, as clearly out of his field. They were passing the county fair buildings, and he began expatiating on the kind of county fair he would have—a great county exposition with the schools as its central thought—a clearing house for the rural activities of all the country schools.
“And pa’s going to have a suit before we go, too,” said Jennie. “Here are some samples I got of Atkins, the tailor. Which would be the most becoming do you think?”