Now see on what slight thread events are strung! What she innocently supposed to be a misunderstanding of the song selected, influenced one of the teachers to announce the subsequent songs herself. This led Mrs. R. B. M. Smith to suppose that the teacher was selecting all the songs, thus depriving the children of the divine, not to say formative, privilege of individual choice. This opinion, in turn, led her to beckon one of the assistants to her and describe her own system of awakening and continuing, by a ceaseless series of questions, the interested coöperation of the child’s intelligence. In order to do this, she added, the subjects of song and story must be more simple than was possible if complex historical incidents were used. She indicated her willingness to relate to the children a model story of this order, calling the teachers’ attention in advance to the almost incredible certainty that would characterize the children’s anticipation of the events thus judiciously and psychologically selected.
The arm-chairs shortly to contain so much accurate anticipation were ranged neatly on both sides of the long room. Some malefic influence caused the officiating teacher to appoint Philip to lead one-half of the circle to the chairs and Marantha the other. More than one visitor had been wont to remark the unanimity with which this exercise was performed. Each child grasped his little chair by the arms, and holding it before him, carried it to its appointed place in the circle. So well had they learned this manœuver that the piano chords were sufficient monitors, and the three teachers, having seen the line safely started, gathered around their visitor to hear more of the theory.
“The effect was inexpressibly indiscreet.”
Under what obsession Philip labored, with what malignant power he had made pact, is unknown. He had no appearance of planning darkly: his actions seemed the result of instantaneous inspiration. Standing before his chair as if about to take his seat, he subsided partially; then, grasping the arms, half bent over, he waddled toward the circle. This natural method of transportation commended itself in a twinkling to his line, and without the slightest disturbance or hesitation, they imitated him exactly. Experience should have taught Marantha the futility of following his example, but she was of an age when experience appeals but slightly; and determined to excel him, at the risk of falling at every step on her already injured nose, she bent over so far that the legs of her chair pointed almost directly upward. Her line followed her, and waddling, shuffling, gnome-like, they made for the circle. It had all the effect of a carefully inculcated drill, and to Mrs. R. B. M. Smith the effect was inexpressibly indiscreet.
“Is it possible that you—” she inquired, pointing to the advancing children, many of whom promptly fell over backward under the sudden onslaught of the horrified teachers.
Miss Hunt colored angrily.
“Something is the matter with the school to-day,” she said sharply. “I never knew them to behave so in my life! I can’t see what’s come over them! They always carry their chairs in front of them.”
“I should hope so,” responded the visitor placidly, “nothing could be worse for them than that angle.”
“At least they’re safe now,” the youngest assistant whispered to her fellow-teacher, as the children sat decorously attentive in their chairs, their faces turned curiously toward the strange lady with the fascinating plumes in her bonnet.