Come," interrupted the aunt, "help now to dish up. It's time to eat
once. We're Pennsylvania Dutch, so what's the use gettin' cross when
we're called that?"

"Yes," Phoebe's father said, smiling, "I'm a Dutchie too, but I'm a big
Dutchie."

Phoebe smiled, but all through the meal and during the days that
followed she thought often of the rose. Her heart was bitter toward the
new teacher and she resolved never, never to like her!

CHAPTER IV

THE NEW TEACHER

THE first Monday in September was the opening day of the rural school on
the hill. Phoebe woke that morning before daylight. At four she heard
her Aunt Maria tramp about in heavy shoes. It was Monday and wash-day
and to Maria Metz the two words were so closely linked that nothing less
than serious illness or death could part them.

"Ach, my," Phoebe sighed as she turned again under her red and green
quilt, "this is the first day of school! Wish Aunt Maria'd forget to
call me till it's too late to go."

At five-thirty she heard her father go down-stairs and soon after that
came her aunt's loud call, "Phoebe, it's time to get up. Get up now and
get down for I have breakfast made."

"Yes," came the dreary answer.

"Now don't you go asleep again."

"No, I'm awake. Shall I dress right aways for school?"

"No. Put on your old brown gingham once."

Phoebe made a wry face. "Ugh, that ugly brown gingham! What for did
anybody ever buy brown when there are such pretty colors in the stores?"

A moment later she pushed back the gay quilt and sat on the edge of the
bed. The first gleams of day-break sent bright streaks of light into her
room as she sat on the high walnut bed and swung her bare feet back and
forth.

"It's the first time I wasn't glad for school," she soliloquized softly.
"I used to could hardly wait still, and I'd be glad this time if we
didn't have that teacher from Phildelphy. Miss Virginia Lee her name is,
and she's pretty like the name, but I don't like her! Guess she's that
stuck up, comin' from the city, that she'll laugh all the time at us
country people. I don't like people that poke fun at me, you bet I
don't! I vonder now, mebbe I am funny to look at, that she laughed at
me. But if I was I think somebody would 'a' told me long ago. I don't
see what for she laughed so at me."

She sprang from the bed and ran to the window, pulled the cord of the
green shade and sent it rattling to the top. Then she stood on tiptoe
before the mi