University of Virginia Library

Chapter 2

It is time to explain that the new school teacher's name was not Mabel Frost, but Mabel Frost Fairfax,

and that she had sought a situation at Granville not from necessity but from choice — indeed from something very much like a whim. Hers was a decidedly curious case. She had all the advantages of wealth. She had youth, beauty, and refinement. She had the entree to the magic inner circle of metropolitan society. And yet there was in her an ever present sense of something lacking. She had grown weary of the slavery of fashion. Young as she was, she had begun to know its hollowness, its utter insufficiency as the object of existence. She sought some truer interest in life. She had failed to secure happiness, she reasoned, because thus far she had lived only for herself. Why should she not live, in part at least, for others? Why not take her share of the world's work? She was an orphan, and had almost no family ties. The experiment that she contemplated might be an original and unconventional one, but she determined to try it.

But what could she do?

It was natural, perhaps, that she should think of teaching. She had been fortunate enough to graduate at a school where the useful as well as the ornamental received its share of attention, and her natural gifts, as well as studious habits, had given her the first place among her schoolmates.

The suggestion that the opportunity she sought might be found in Granville came from the Mary Bridgman to whom Squire Hadley referred. Mary was a dressmaker, born and reared in Granville, who had come to New York to establish herself there in her line of business. Mabel Fairfax had for years been one of her customers, and — as sometimes happens with society girls and their dressmakers — had made her a confidante. And so it happened that Mary was the first person to whom Miss Fairfax told her resolution to do something useful.

"But tell me," she added, "what shall I do? You are practical. You know me well. What am I fit for?"

"I hardly know what to say, Miss Fairfax," said the dressmaker. "Your training would interfere with many things you are capable of doing. I can do but one thing."

"And that you do well."

"I think I do," said Mary, with no false modesty. "I have found my path in life. It would be too humble for you."

"Not too humble. I don't think I have any pride of that kind; but I never could tolerate the needle. I haven't the patience, I suppose."

"Would you like teaching?"

"I have thought of that. That is what I am, perhaps, best fitted for; but I don't know how to go about it."

"Would you be willing to go into the country?"

"I should prefer it. I wish to go somewhere where I am not known."

"Then it might do," said Mary, musingly.

"What might do?"

"Let me tell you. I was born away up in the northern part of New Hampshire, in a small country town, with no particular attractions except that it lies not far from the mountains. It has never had more than a very few summer visitors. Only yesterday I had a letter from Granville, and they mentioned that the committee were looking out for a teacher for the grammar school, which was to begin in two weeks."

"The very thing," said Mabel quickly. "Do you think I could obtain the place?"

"I don't think any one has been engaged. I will write if you wish me to, and see what can be done."

"I wish you would," said Mabel promptly.

"Do you think, Miss Fairfax, you could be content to pass the summer in such a place, working hard, and perhaps without appreciation?"

"I should, at all events, be at work; I should feel, for the first time in my life, that I was of use to somebody."

"There is no doubt of that. You would find a good deal to be done; too much, perhaps."

"Better too much than too little."

"If that is your feeling I will write at once. Have you any directions to give me?"

"Say as little as possible about me. I wish to be judged on my own merits."

"Shall I give your name?"

"Only in part. Let me be Mabel Frost."

Thus was the way opened for Mabel's appearance in Granville. Mary Bridgman's recommendation proved effectual. "She was educated here; she knows what we want," said Squire Hadley; and he authorized the engagement.

When the matter was decided, a practical difficulty arose. Though Mabel had an abundant wardrobe, she had little that was suited for the school mistress of Granville.

"If you were to wear your last season's dresses — those you took to Newport," said Mary Bridgman, "you would frighten everybody at Granville. There would be no end of gossip."

"No doubt you are right," said Mabel. "I put myself in your hands. Make me half a dozen dresses such as you think I ought to have. There is only a week, but you can hire extra help."

The dresses were ready in time. They were plain for the heiress, but there was still reason to think that Miss Frost would be better dressed than any of her predecessors in office, partly because they were cut in the style of the day, and partly because Mabel had a graceful figure, which all styles became. Though Mary Bridgman, who knew Granville and its inhabitants, had some misgivings, it never occurred to Mabel that she might be considered overdressed, and the two trunks, which led Mrs. Slocum to pronounce her a "vain, conceited sort," really seemed to her very moderate.

At half past eight in the morning after Miss Frost's arrival in Granville Ben Hadley called at the hotel and inquired for the new school teacher.

"I guess you mean Miss Frost," said the landlord.

"I don't know what her name is," said Ben. "Dad wants her to come round and be examined."

Ben was a stout boy, with large capacities for mischief. He was bright enough, if he could only make up his mind to study, but appeared to consider time spent over his books as practically wasted. Physically and in temperament he resembled his father more than his mother, and this was fortunate. Mrs. Hadley was thin lipped and acid, with a large measure of selfishness and meanness. Her husband was pompous, and overestimated his own importance, but his wife's faults were foreign to his nature. He was liked by most of his neighbors; and Ben, in his turn, in spite of his mischievous tendencies, was a popular boy. In one respect he was unlike his father. He was thoroughly democratic, and never put on airs.

Ben surveyed Miss Frost, whom he saw for the first time, with approval, not unmingled with surprise. She was not the average type of teacher. Ben rather expected to meet an elderly female, tall and willowy in form, and wearing long ringlets. Such had been Miss Jerusha Colebrook, who had wielded the ferule the year before.

"Are you the school teacher?" asked Ben dubiously, as they left the hotel.

Mabel smiled. "I suppose," said she, "that depends on whether I pass the examination."

"I guess you'll pass," said Ben.

"What makes you think so?" asked Mabel, amused.

"You look as if you know a lot," answered Ben bluntly.

"I hope appearances won't prove deceptive," said Mabel. "Are you to be one of my scholars?"

"Yes," replied Ben

"You look bright and quick."

"Do I?" said Ben. "You can't always tell by looks," he added, parodying her own words.

"Don't you like to study?" Mabel inquired.

"Well, I don't hanker after it. The fact is," said Ben in a burst of confidence, "I'm a pretty hard case."

"You say so because you are modest."

"No, I don't; the last teacher said so. Why, she couldn't do nothing with me."

"You begin to alarm me," said Mabel. "Are there many hard cases among the scholars?"

"I'm about the worst," said Ben candidly.

"I'm glad to hear that."

"Why?" asked Ben, puzzled.

"Because," said Mabel, "I don't expect to have any trouble with you."

"You don't?" said Ben, surprised.

"No, I like your face. You may be mischievous, but I am sure you are not bad."

Ben was rather pleased with the compliment. Boy as he was, he was not insensible to the grace and beauty of the new teacher, and he felt a thrill of pleasure at words which would scarcely have affected him if they had proceeded from Jerusha Colebrook.

"Do you feel interested in study?" Mabel continued.

"Not much," Ben admitted.

"You don't want to grow up ignorant, do you?"

"Of course I want to know something," said Ben.

"If you improve your time you may some time be chairman of the School Committee, like your father."

Ben chuckled. "That don't take much larnin'," he said.

"Doesn't it? I should think it would require a good scholar."

Ben laughed again. "Perhaps you think my father knows a good deal?" he said interrogatively.

Ben seemed on the brink of a dangerous confidence, and Mabel felt embarrassed.

"Certainly," said she.

"He don't," said Ben. "Don't you ever tell, and I'll tell you something. He got the minister to write out the questions he asks the teachers."

"I suppose the minister was more used to it," said Mabel, feeling obliged to proffer some explanation.

"That ain't it," said Ben. "Dad never went to school after he was twelve. I could cipher him out of his boots, and he ain't much on spelling, either. The other day he spelled straight s-t-r-a-t-e."

"You mustn't tell me all this," said Mabel gravely. "Your father wouldn't like it."

"You won't tell him?" said Ben apprehensively, for he knew that his father would resent these indiscreet revelations.

"No, certainly not. When does school commence, Ben?"

"Tomorrow morning. I say, Miss Frost, I hope you'll give a good long recess."

"How long have you generally had?"

"Well, Miss Colebrook only gave us five minutes. She was a regular old poke, and got along so slow that she cut us short on recess to make it up."

"How long do you think you ought to have?" asked Mabel.

"Half an hour'd be about right," said Ben.

"Don't you think an hour would be better?" asked Mabel, smiling.

"May be that would be too long," Ben admitted.

"So I think. On the other hand I consider five minutes too short. I will consult your father about that."

"Here's our house," said Ben suddenly. "Dad's inside waiting for you."

Squire Hadley received Mabel with an impressive air of official dignity. He felt his importance on such occasions. "I am glad to see you, Miss Frost," he said.

"Are there any other teachers to be examined?" asked Mabel, finding herself alone.

"The others have all been examined. We held a general examination a week ago. You need not feel nervous, Miss Frost. I shall give you plenty of time."

"You are very considerate, Squire Hadley," said Mabel.

"I will first examine you in arithmetic. Arithmetic," here the Squire cleared his throat, "is, as you are aware, the science of numbers. We

regard it as of primary — yes, primary importance."

"It is certainly very important."

"I will — ahem — ask you a few questions, and then give you some sums to cipher out. What is a fraction, Miss Frost?"

Squire Hadley leaned back in his chair, and fixed his eyes prudently on that page of the arithmetic which contained the answer to the question he had asked. Mabel answered correctly.

"You have the correct idea said the Squire patronizingly, "though you ain't quite got the phraseology of the book."

"Definitions vary in different arithmetics," said Mabel.

"I suppose they do," said the Squire, to whom this was news. To him arithmetic was arithmetic, and it had never occurred to him that there was more than one way of expressing the same thing.

Slender as was his own stock of scholarship, Squire Hadley knew enough to perceive, before going very far into the text book, that the new school teacher was well up in rudimentary mathematics. When he came to geography, however, he made an awkward discovery. He had lost the list of questions which the minister had prepared for him. Search was unavailing, and the Squire was flustered.

"I have lost my list of questions in geography," he said, hesitatingly.

"You might think of a few questions to ask me," suggested Mabel.

"So I can," said the Squire, who felt that he must keep up appearances. "Where is China?"

"In Asia," answered Mabel, rather astonished at the simple character of the question.

"Quite right," said the Squire, in a tone which seemed to indicate surprise that his question had been correctly answered. "Where is the Lake of Gibraltar?"

"I suppose you mean the Straits of Gibraltar?"

"To be sure," said the Squire rather uneasily. "I was — ahem! thinking of another question."

Mabel answered correctly.

"Where is the River Amazon?"

"In South America."

Squire Hadley had an impression that the Amazon was not in South America, but he was too uncertain to question the correctness of Mabel's answer.

"Where is the city of New York situated?" he asked.

Mabel answered.

"And now," said the Squire, with the air of one who was asking a poser, "can you tell me where Lake Erie is located?"

Even this did not overtask the knowledge of the applicant.

"Which is farther north, New York or Boston?" next asked the erudite Squire.

"Boston," said Mabel.

"Very well," said the Squire approvingly. "I see you are well up in geography. I am quite satisfied that you are competent to teach our grammar school. I will write you a certificate accordingly."

This the Squire did; and Mabel felt that she was one step nearer the responsible office which she had elected to fill.

"School will begin tomorrow at nine," said the Squire. "I will call round and go to school with you, and introduce you to the scholars. I'll have to see about a boarding place for you."

"Thank you," said Mabel, "but I won't trouble you to do that. I will stay at the hotel for a week, till I am a little better acquainted. During that time I may hear of some place that I shall like."

Squire Hadley was surprised at this display of independence.

"I apprehend," he objected, "that you will find the price at the hotel too high for you. We only pay seven dollars a week, and you would have to pay all of that for board."

"It will be for only one week, Squire Hadley," said Mabel, "and I should prefer it."

"Just as you say," said the Squire, not altogether satisfied. "You will be the first teacher that ever boarded at the hotel. You wouldn't have to

pay more'n three dollars at a private house."

"Of course that is a consideration," said Mabel guardedly.

As she left the Squire's house and emerged into the road she heard steps behind her. Turning, she saw Ben Hadley.

"I say, Miss Frost, was you examined in geography?" he asked.

"Yes, Ben."

"Did dad ask you questions off a paper?"

"No; he couldn't find the paper."

I thought so," said Ben grinning.

"Do you know what became of it?" asked Mabel, with sudden suspicion.

"Maybe I do and maybe I don't," answered Ben, noncommittally. "What sort of questions did dad ask you?"

"Wait till school opens," answered Mabel, smiling; "I will ask you some of them there."

"Did he really and truly examine you in geography out of his own head?" asked Ben.

"Yes, Ben; he didn't even open a book."

"Good for dad!" said Ben. "I didn't think he could do it."

"It is quite possible that your father knows more than you give him credit for," said Mabel.

"Guess he must have remembered some of the questions," thought Ben.

In the course of the day the list of geographical questions found its way back to Squire Hadley's desk.

"Strange I overlooked it," he said.

Perhaps Ben might have given him some information on the subject.