aist by a wide belt of the chambray. But the dress bore one
distinctive feature. Instead of the usual narrow band around the neck it
was adorned with a wide round collar which lay over the shoulders.
Phoebe knew that the collar was vastly becoming and the knowledge always
had a soothing effect upon her.

When the call of the school bell floated down the hill to the gray
farmhouse Phoebe picked up her school bag and her tin lunch kettle and
started off, outwardly in happier mood yet loath to go to the old
schoolhouse for the first session of school.

From the Metz farm the road to the school began to ascend. Gradually it
curved up-hill, then suddenly stretched out in a long, steep climb
until, upon the summit of the hill, it curved sharply to the west to a
wide clearing. It was to this clearing the little country schoolhouse
with its wide porch and snug bell-tower called the children back to
their studies.

Goldenrod and asters grew along the road, dogwood branches hung their
scarlet berries over the edge of the woods, but Phoebe would have
scorned to gather any of the flowers she loved and carry them to the new
teacher. "I ain't bringing _her_ any flowers," she soliloquized.

She trudged soberly ahead. As she reached the summit of the hill several
children called to her. From three roads came other children, most of
them carrying baskets or kettles filled with the noon lunch. All were
eager for the opening of school, anxious to "see the new teacher once."

From the farm nearest the schoolhouse Phares Eby had come for his last
year in the rural school. From the little cottage on the adjoining farm
David Eby came whistling down the road.

"Hello, Phoebe," he called as he drew near to her. "Glad for school?"

"I ain't!" She flung the words at him. "You know good enough I ain't."

"Ha, ha," he laughed, "don't be cranky, Phoebe. Here comes Phares and
he'll tell you that your eyes are black when you're cross. Won't you,
Phares?"

"I----" began the sober youth, but Phoebe rudely interrupted.

"I don't care. I don't like the new teacher."

"You must like everybody," said Phares.

"Well, I just guess I won't! There's Mary Warner with her white dress
and her black curls with a pink bow on them--you don't think I'm likin'
her when she's got what I want and daren't have? Come on, it's time to
go in," she added as Phares would have remonstrated with her for her
frank avowal of jealousy. "Let's go in and see what the tea