(Enter MRS. CRANE with her son by the ear.)
MRS. CRANE. I’ve brought him, Mr. Snodgrass! Neow, Seth Crane, you miserable little truant you, jest go and set deown in that ere seat and behave yourself as ef you hed some bringing-up, or you’ll get it when you get home—and you sha’n’t go out to play for a week. Do you hear?
SETH (boo-hooing). ’Tain’t my seat! It belongs to a gerrul! My seat’s over there.
MRS. CRANE. You go set deown, or I’ll put ye deown. (SETH sits.) Neow, Mr. Snodgrass, I jest want you tu make my son behave, and ef he don’t, I want yeou to flog him!—not enough to hurt him, for he’s a very delicate child, and I wouldn’t hev the dear boy hurt for nothing; but easy like, just enough to make him mind. (Wiping her eyes.) He is a most affectionate boy—Seth, dear, go right to studying (to SETH, who growls, “I won’t” )—and more easily led than driven. But he’s so nervous! I’m afraid he’ll never live to grow up. Whenever you see him whispering or playing in school, Mr. Snodgrass, you may be sure it’s all nervousness. He was a-goin’ to play truant to-day, because he thinks you don’t like him! What a be-u-tiful school you have—sech handsome-looking boys and girls.
TEACHER (offering chair). Yes, a very fine school for these parts. Won’t you be seated?
MRS. CRANE. Mercy sakes alive! no. My punkin pies’ll be burned to cinders, all on account o’ that vagabond a-settin’ there and grinnin’ (shaking a warning finger at him)—ef I don’t give you a walloping when you get hum!—Call reound, Mr. Snodgrass, and git some o’ eour new apple juice. Jeremiah’ll be glad tu hev ye. Good-mornin’.
TEACHER. I thank you, ma’am. I will with pleasure. Good-morning.
(Exit MRS. CRANE, with a card reading “BACK SHORTLY” pinned on her back by some mischievous scholar.)
BOY (in seat ). What does c-u-t-i-c-l-e mean?
TEACHER. What have you all over your hands and face?