Eunice

by Margaret M. Robertson

Then came the merry uproar which had interrupted the conversation within; and the laughter and chatter and noise increased till they were called into the house by the mother. The “What is the trouble?” of Dr Everett was answered by half a dozen voices at once. But it was Jabez who made the matter clear to their elders.

“Mr Fuller isn’t coming back this winter, and we all agree that Miss Fidelia ought to teach our school. Know enough? I guess so! And as for government—I should just like to see the first one try to make her trouble in school. There wouldn’t be any second time, I don’t believe.”

Jabez turned, quite fierce in looks, to the Everett boys, who, to tell the truth, were neither the most studious nor the most submissive to school discipline. Ned took refuge behind his father, and made believe to be very much afraid. Dr Everett had his own thoughts about the matter, but he did not commit himself that night. When he said it would be worth while for the school committee to take the matter into consideration, they all thought he was “only joking,” as Ned said.

However, it came to pass that the school was offered to Fidelia. Jabez had moved the doctor, and the doctor had moved the school committee. A woman had never taught the winter school in Halsey before, but there was no reason why a woman should not teach it this winter. Fidelia Marsh had been the best scholar in the school when she attended it. She had studied since at home, and she had been a year in Holyoke seminary. If anything had been needed to turn the scale of opinion in her favour, it was the suggestion made by Deacon Ainsworth, that being a woman they could get her to teach five months for as little, may be for less, than Mr Fuller or any other young man would expect for four months. It was the deacon who was appointed to see Miss Fidelia; and Dr Everett went with him “to help talk the matter over.”

Miss Eunice and Dr Everett had not waited for the assistance of Deacon Ainsworth before they talked the matter over, however; and after a good deal of anxious consideration they agreed to leave the decision to Fidelia herself, as to whether she would teach the school or not. To her it did not seem so very grave a matter.

“I might try it,” said she; “only, if I fail, I will never be able to hold up my head in Halsey again.”

But she had no thought of failing. After the weary time of depression through which she had been passing, it was real pleasure to throw herself into the work she had undertaken. The fact that she knew every boy and girl in the place, and that some of the elder ones among her pupils had been her schoolmates only a few years ago, made the teaching and even the government of the school easier in some respects than they would have been to a stranger. For she knew all their weak points both in scholarship and in temper—“their easily besetting sins,” as the deacon called them—and she could guide and restrain them accordingly, better than a stranger might have done, and she did succeed well with them all.

But she might have had some trouble in governing the bright, eager little men and women committed to her care, many of whom were in the habit of assuming a share of family government at home, if she had not been “well backed,” as Jabez called it. Of this backing Jabez did his share, both by precept and example. The respectful deference of his behaviour to the teacher, and the strict obedience he rendered, both in spirit and in letter, to the school rules, some of which were meant chiefly for the guidance of small boys who needed “line upon line,” helped her greatly, though, in observing him, Fidelia had sometimes much difficulty in preserving her gravity before the rest of her pupils.

He helped her in other ways too. When Master Vanburen Swift, the son of one of the few rich men in Halsey, had been more than usually troublesome in school, and had answered Jabez’s mild expostulation by demanding to be told “who Fidelia Marsh was, anyway?” his sled was forthwith taken possession of and impounded for the space of twenty-four hours. As it was after the first heavy fall of snow, and the long hill “just splendid” for coasting, it was a severe punishment, and all the more so that it was gravely suggested to his companions that loyalty to their teacher forbade the loan of any one’s sled to the bad boy who would not do his duty. Of course the boy complained to his father, and his father complained to various people—to the school committee and the teacher—to Deacon Ainsworth, and to Jabez himself. Jabez acknowledged his part in the transaction, and promised not to repeat it—till the next time. But the next time never came. Young Van, as the boys called him, had had his lesson.

Other people helped also. School committees, from time immemorial, have acknowledged it to be their duty to visit the schools under their care, in order to encourage both teacher and pupils; but the duty had been rather neglected in Halsey. They did visit the school this winter, however. So did the minister, so did Dr Everett; and altogether it was agreed that, as a teacher, Fidelia Marsh might be considered a success. Work went on wonderfully well day by day, and there were now and then evening spelling schools, conducted in the usual energetic manner, and there were “speaking pieces,” and “they did considerable more singing, first and last, than was generally done in schools,” Deacon Ainsworth remarked in the course of a little speech he made one day when he came with the rest. He left his hearers in doubt of his entire approval of so much singing; but he declared himself “satisfied on the whole,” which was encouraging.