“I’ll try,” Hazel answered. “I’m a young teacher, don’t you think, Scip?” She jumped up and laughed. “You must do everything I say. Let’s begin now. I’ll go and get my books.”
She ran down the hill, her blue dress blowing in the wind, her small head gaily erect.
“Like a blue-bird,” Scipio thought.
She came back in a few minutes, her hands full.
“I’ve pencil and paper,” she called. “Scip, can’t we find a nice place to keep school in?”
“There’s a green spot a way up,” the boy replied. “You might like it.”
He led her among the trees to a little enclosure. Small pines, not more than six feet high, made a natural hedge, and shut them out from the road below.
“How pretty,” cried Hazel. “It’s like a little house. Here, take the books, Scip, and I’ll decide what to do.”
He obediently held the books for her.
As she looked about among the pines a new idea came to her.