“What do you mean?” said Peter, suspiciously.
“It is too much trouble to explain all I say. You are not very quick at understanding.”
“You look out, Alfred Clinton, or I may hurt you.”
“Don’t trouble yourself.”
“I shall have to fight that boy some time,” said Peter to John. “He’s getting impudent.”
“He ain’t much,” said John, contemptuously. “He and his mother are as poor as poverty. He’s a proud beggar.”
“So he is,” said Peter, whose worldly circumstances were scarcely any better than Alfred’s, his father being a mechanic, whose drunken habits rendered his income very precarious and fluctuating. He did not realize that John looked down upon him quite as much as he did on Alfred, but thought fit to conceal this feeling at present, on account of his hatred to Walter.
As may naturally be supposed, the arrival of the young teacher was looked forward to with eager anticipation on the part of the scholars. They wanted to see how he would regard the occupation of his seat. Most thought he would be “mad.”
At last Walter was seen ascending the hill on which the schoolhouse was situated. The scholars who were grouped in front immediately entered, and took their seats.
Walter was a little surprised at their unusual promptness, but when he was still in the entry he heard the hen, and guessed the trick that had been attempted. One glance at the teacher’s chair, on entering the schoolroom, showed him what had made the scholars take their seats so promptly.