f the little drama of
emotions that went on under the routine of lessons and exercises in his
domain, was purely accidental, but we took it at the time as a stroke of
diabolical genius. It left Cecily no choice. She would have done almost
anything before she would have sat with Cyrus Brisk. With flashing
eyes she tore open the letter, snatched up the chalk, and dashed at the
blackboard.

In a few minutes the contents of that letter graced the expanse usually
sacred to more prosaic compositions. I cannot reproduce it verbatim, for
I had no after opportunity of refreshing my memory. But I remember that
it was exceedingly sentimental and exceedingly ill-spelled--for Cecily
mercilessly copied down poor Cyrus' mistakes. He wrote her that he wore
her hare over his hart--"and he stole it," Cecily threw passionately
over her shoulder at Mr. Perkins--that her eyes were so sweet and lovely
that he couldn't find words nice enuf to describ them, that he could
never forget how butiful she had looked in prar meeting the evening
before, and that some meels he couldn't eat for thinking of her, with
more to the same effect and he signed it "yours till deth us do part,
Cyrus Brisk."

As the writing proceeded we scholars exploded into smothered laughter,
despite our awe of Mr. Perkins. Mr. Perkins himself could not keep a
straight face. He turned abruptly away and looked out of the window,
but we could see his shoulders shaking. When Cecily had finished and
had thrown down the chalk with bitter vehemence, he turned around with a
very red face.

"That will do. You may sit down. Cyrus, since it seems you are the
guilty person, take the eraser and wipe that off the board. Then go
stand in the corner, facing the room, and hold your arms straight above
your head until I tell you to take them down."

Cyrus obeyed and Cecily fled to her seat and wept, nor did Mr. Perkins
meddle with her more that day. She bore her burden of humiliation
bitterly for several days, until she was suddenly comforted by a
realization that Cyrus had ceased to persecute her. He wrote no more
letters, he gazed no longer in rapt adoration, he brought no more votive
offerings of gum and pencils to her shrine. At first we thought he had
been cured by the unmerciful chaffing he had to undergo from his mates,
but eventually his sister told Cecily the true reason. Cyrus had at last
been driven to believe that Cecily's aversion to him was real, and not
merely the defence o