“Good evening, Colonel,” said Jim. “Take a chair, won’t you?”
“No,” replied the colonel. “I thought I’d see if you and the boys at the schoolhouse can’t tell me something about the smut in my wheat. I heard you were going to work on that to-night.”
“I had forgotten!” said Jim.
“I wondered if you hadn’t,” said the colonel, “and so I came by for you. I was waiting up the road. Come on, and ride up with me.”
The colonel had always been friendly, but there was a new note in his manner to-night. He was almost deferential. If he had been talking to Senator Cummins or the president of the state university, his tone could not have been more courteous, more careful to preserve the amenities due from man to man. He worked with the class on the problem of smut. He offered to aid the boys in every possible way in their campaign against scab in potatoes. He suggested some tests which would show the real value of the treatment. The boys were in a glow of pride at this cooperation with Colonel Woodruff. This was real work! Jim and the colonel went away together. It had been a great evening.
“Jim,” said the colonel, “can these kids spell?”
“You mean these boys?”
“I mean the school.”
“I think,” said Jim, “that they can outspell any school about here.”
“Good,” said the colonel. “How are they about reading aloud?”