As, with the deepest interest, Nelly gravely listened, she came to the conclusion that this was just the best school of which she had ever heard, everything was so pleasant.
There was a little dark-haired boy in a blue jacket, who sat near, and who whittled her pencil, oh so sharp, every time she blunted it! She told Comfort, in confidence, when she went home, that this little boy’s pictures were quite as good as any Martin could make. He drew ships under full sail, oh, beautiful! and as for those men, squaring off to fight, up in the corner of the paper, they made you think at once of Uz and Buz the two roosters, that quarrelled every morning in the barnyard, about which should have the most corn.
In a week or two, however, Nelly’s rapture abated somewhat; and one day she came home with her books in her hands, and threw herself on one of the chairs in the kitchen, crying heartily.
“Heyday,” cried Comfort, looking up from the fire, over which she was broiling a fish. “Heyday, what ar’s the matter now?”
“O Comfort,” cried Nelly, “she struck me, she struck me, before them all!”
“What!” cried Comfort, standing erect with surprise. “Miss Nelly’s been for whippin’ a’ready? Why, Nelly, shame, shame! Dis yer conduct is oncommon bad of yer.”
"It wasn’t Miss Harrow, at all," said Nelly, reddening; “it was that horrid, old thing, Melindy.”
“Oh, Melindy,” echoed Comfort, in a tone of relief.
“Yes,” continued Nelly, “she tries to get me to laugh in school, every day. She makes eyes at me, big, round ones, so, Comfort.”
Comfort chuckled.