“Hear! Hear!” they said. Then Helen Pitts came in, her face flushed, and after a little excited chatter the meeting was called to order.
It was true that Helen had taken the fall Civil Service examination by way of a “declaration of independence.” When she presented herself at the post-office they had eyed her with disapproval.
“What’s the schoolmarm here for?” they asked. And Sid Green remarked sourly that he’d heard tell she was one of those “advanced women.” His wife rebuked him sharply.
“Miss Pitts is one of the nicest and most ladylike teachers we’ve ever had. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Sid Green!”
But Sid hadn’t taken it back. The School Board hadn’t liked their teacher’s marching in the suffrage parade last fall—and Sid knew it, no matter what his wife said. Anyhow, he wore the pants in his house. He hitched them up now with a jerk and went outside.
There was no question about the teacher’s popularity with her pupils. The morning she mailed her resignation (to take effect at the end of the month) she decided not to tell the children until after the Christmas party. That wasn’t going to be easy.
The teacher’s mind was jerked back to the present by hearing her name.
“I move that Helen Pitts be our delegate,” Lucy Payne said.
Helen blinked her eyes.
“I second the motion.” Mrs. Huggins was nodding her head emphatically.