doughnut from the hand of Paul, whereupon he retired promptly.

"He ain't going to take any chances," said the widow, laughing.

When at last he came forth, it was with a soft step and new
resolutions. And a while later, when Trove heard Darrel say that
caution was the only friend of weakness, he understood him
perfectly.

"Not every brush has a fox on it," said the widow, and the words
went from lip to lip until they were a maxim of those country-folk.

And Trove was to think of it when he himself was like the poor dog
that wore a fox's tail.

XIV

A Day at the Linley Schoolhouse

A remarkable figure was young Sidney Trove, the new teacher in
District No. 1. He was nearing nineteen years of age that winter.

"I like that," he said to the trustee, who had been telling him of
the unruly boys--great, hulking fellows that made trouble every
winter term. "Trouble--it's a grand thing I--but I'm not selfish,
and if I find any, I'll agree to divide it with the boys. I don't
know but I'll be generous and let them have the most of it. If
they put me out of the schoolhouse, I'll have learned something."

The trustee looked at the six feet and two inches of bone and
muscle that sat lounging in a chair--looked from end to end of it.

"What's that?" he inquired, smiling.

"That I've no business there," said young Mr. Trove.

"I guess you'll dew," said the trustee. "Make 'em toe the line;
that's all I got t' say."

"And all I've got to do is my best--I don't promise any more," the
other answered modestly, as he rose to leave.

Linley School was at the four corners in Pleasant Valley,--a low,
frame structure, small and weathered gray. Windows, with no shade,
or shutter, were set, two on a side, in perfect apposition. A
passing traveller could see through them to the rocky pasture
beyond. Who came there for knowledge, though a fool, was dubbed a
"scholar." It was a word sharply etched in the dialect of that
region. If one were to say _skollur-r-r_, he might come near it.
Every winter morning the scholar entered a little vestibule which
was part of the woodshed. He passed an ash barrel and the odour of
drying wood, hung cap and coat On a peg in the closet, lifted the
latch of a pine door, and came into the schoolroom. If before
nine, it would be noisy with shout and laughter, the buzz of
tongues, the tread of running feet. Big girls, in neat aprons,
would be gossiping at the stove hearth; small boy