CHAPTER XI
ENGAGED
The trustees of Purple Springs School had reached the climax of their professional duties. They were about to appoint a teacher, and being conscientious men, anxious to drive a good bargain for the people, they were proceeding with deep caution to "look around."
Looking at the modest equipment of Purple Springs School, the observer would wonder why such stress was laid on the teacher's qualifications. The schoolhouse was a bleak little structure of wood, from whose walls the winds and rain had taken the paint. It was set in an arid field, that knew no tree or flower. Its three uncurtained windows threw a merciless light on the gray floor and smoked walls.
Former teachers had tried to stir the community to beautify the grounds and make the inside more homelike, but their efforts had been fitful and without result. Trees died, seeds remained in the ground, and gray monotony reigned at Purple Springs. Still, the three trustees believed it was an enviable position they had in their hands to bestow, and were determined that it should not be given lightly.
Just at the time that they were hard engaged in "lookin' 'round," the secretary's wife came back from a visit to Chicken Hill, and told about Pearl Watson, who had been to the city and come back "quite a girl," able to talk, and just as nice and friendly as ever. Mrs. Cowan was not well read in the political situation of the day, and so did not know that Pearl had been guilty of heretical utterances against the Government.
If this had been known to the trustees her candidature would not have been considered, for all of the trustees were supporters and believers in the Government—and with reason. Mr. Cowan had a telephone line built expressly for him; Mr. Brownlees had been given a ditch—just where he wanted it, digging it himself, and been paid for it by the Government; the third trustee had been made game warden, at a monthly salary and no duties; so naturally they would like not to hear their friends criticized. Mrs. Cowan only read newspapers to see the bargains, crotchet patterns, and murders, and after that, she believed their only use was to be put on pantry shelves. So her account of Pearl's address was entirely without political bias.
"She's a fine looking girl," said Mrs. Cowan, "and it's nice to hear her talk, even if she isn't saying anything. She's brown-eyed, tall, and speaks out plain so every one can hear, and what she says is not too deep—and you'd never know she was educated, to hear her talk."
The three trustees resolved to look into the case. Being masters of duplicity, they decided to call on Miss Watson at her home, and to go in the early morning hours, believing that the misty light of 8 a.m. will reveal many things which the glare of high noon might hide. They would see first would she be up? They had once had a teacher who lay in bed the whole day on Saturday. Would she have her hair combed? They were not keen on artistic effects in the school buildings, but were a unit on wanting a tastefully dressed teacher. It was decided that the call would be early and unannounced.
They found Pearl in a pink and white checked gingham house dress, with her brown hair done up in the style known as a French roll, sewing at a machine in the front room, and at once Mr. Cowan, who was the dominant spirit of the party signalled to the others—"So far so good." Miss Watson, even though the hour was early, was up, dressed neatly—and at work. All of this was in the glance which Mr. Cowan shot over to his colleagues.