"Uncle Jim and Miss Jazzamine make up a lot of it," said Dallas enthusiastically. "First you hear the noise of waggons creaking as settlers drive in, then the sound of axes biting into the trees. At last the house is built, and men, women and children cry for joy. Then there is a feast and dancing and Miss Jazzamine led a procession all round the school-room. It was great, Mother. Can't we have something like this in our home? The music is pretty loud, but there was a deaf man cured by it."
"Gladly, my child," said Mrs. Duff. "We are borrowing many plans from here."
"And they're going to have a concert to-night," said Dallas. "To-morrow night it will be a picnic supper."
"I like that," said Madame de Valkonski. "It keeps the families together."
"And now I must go," said Dallas. "Mr. Macdonald has a stable class at four, and at five Miss Jazzamine shows us how to judge corn."
"Does she never rest—this wonderful teacher?" asked Mrs. Duff.
"She is very strong," said Dallas. "She says when one has good food, good water, good air, and good times one does not need to be ill. Au revoir," and he kissed his mother and bowed to Madame de Valkonski, then hurried away.
The next afternoon he had a wonderful story to tell them about the turkey-farmer's baby who had run away from home and was found under Miss Jazzamine's bed, saying that she had come to the play-house where her brothers and sisters had such good fun.
"She was under there with the cat," said Dallas, "and a squirrel that Sideways had stolen from the woods, and she was lapping water out of Sideways' dish and Miss Jazzamine said to let her stay. She could go into Cassowary's kindergarten class."
How Mrs. Duff laughed at this, while her boy went on, "And the turkey-farmer said he was going to send down six of his best turks, for Miss Jazzamine had fitted his boy for the university and he had done nothing for her."