"Well, never mind, go. If you cannot pass examination so well as Samantha and the rest, go; it will do you good."
Samantha was her daughter, and had always been at school, and consequently ought to have known more than she did; but opportunity does not always make scholars any more than want of opportunity prevents others from becoming such. Now, I had been at school with Samantha, and knew that, if she could bear examination as fitted for a teacher, I could; and I resolved to attend, and, if opportunity was given, I also would be examined with the rest. And I did, and have that certificate now.
No opportunity offered for teaching, however; in fact, I hardly desired one, until I had more chance for improvement myself. I made my arrangements, as I thought, for attending school the next winter; but winter came, and the next summer passed, and still I was as far from what I so earnestly desired as ever. I could not pay my board, and I could not always get a place where I could work mornings and evenings for it; my clothes would be worn; so, with one thing and another, it seemed impossible that I should ever be anything but a drudge. Not that my pride rebelled against doing the kind of work I did, but so constant and ceaseless and unsympathizing a round of duties left no time for thinking except of what was just about me.
The elasticity of spirits that had sustained me heretofore was failing me; for, worn with labor, I felt my mind, as it were, contracting upon itself, and felt, if I could not break from the bondage, I should be miserable enough. For that I could see no way. Now I had a dollar a week, and I must earn it. My employers seemed to consider it treason against them if I so much as looked into a book. From early in the morning until ten, eleven, and often until the "small hours," I must labor; and, if I so much as made myself a garment, I was charged for it, as if it had been hired for me. I submitted to many impositions rather than contend about them, though I questioned with myself if it was to last always. It did not last always. I will relate one incident that occurred, and pass on to pleasanter days.
A glass dish that was cracked about half way across, I accidentally finished breaking. I went immediately to the sitting-room, and explained how it was done. Mrs. —— did not appear displeased at what I had done; told me not to mind; it was an old dish; she had expected for some time it would come apart; there was enough more; told me what one to use in place of it. There was also considerable conversation on the impropriety of fretting if anything was accidentally broken; and she ended by saying, "I make it a point never to reproach my girls if an accident occurs."
I left the room, feeling grateful that such was her practice, and thinking how pleasant it would be if all could think so, not only about accidents, but other things, and be careful not to "break the bruised reed." I thought, too, that though many persons did not seem to sympathize with those who labor for them, it was more in seeming than real. This incident showed me that our feelings were regarded.
A few days after this, Mrs. —— came into the kitchen to make some preparation for company, and when she wanted a dish inquired about that one. I thought it strange if she had forgotten it, and reminded her of its being broken.
"Yes, and I think very carelessly broken, too."
A very expressive remark, I thought, after her boasted forbearance, and it stung none the less that the dart was unexpected.