e
Timothy's pet subjects, and so no one could specialize to any great
extent.

Miss Bailey was one of the beginners, and Room 18 was made to shine as
the sun. Morris Mogilewsky, Monitor of the Gold-Fish Bowl, wrought
busily until his charges glowed redly against the water plants in their
shining bowl. Creepers crept, plants grew, and ferns waved under the
care of Nathan Spiderwitz, Monitor of the Window Boxes. There was such a
martial swing and strut in Patrick Brennan's leadership of the line that
it inflamed even the timid heart of Isidore Wishnewsky with a war-like
glow and his feet with a spasmodic but well-meant tramp. Sadie
Gonorowsky and Eva, her cousin, sat closely side by side, no longer "mad
on theirselves," but "mit kind feelings." The work of the preceding term
was laid in neat and docketed piles upon the low book-case. The children
were enjoined to keep clean and entire. And Teacher, a nervous and
unsmiling Teacher, waited dully.

A week passed thus, and then the good-hearted and experienced Miss Blake
hurried ponderously across the hall to put Teacher on her guard.

"I've just had a note from one of the grammar teachers," she panted.
"'Gum Shoe Tim' is up in Miss Green's room! He'll take this floor next.
Now, see here, child, don't look so frightened. The Principal is with
Tim. Of course you're nervous, but try not to show it, and you'll be all
right. His lay is discipline and reading. Well, good luck to you!"

Miss Bailey took heart of grace. The children read surprisingly well,
were absolutely good, and the enemy under convoy of the friendly
Principal would be much less terrifying than the enemy at large and
alone. It was, therefore, with a manner almost serene that she turned to
greet the kindly concerned Principal and the dreaded "Gum Shoe Tim." The
latter she found less ominous of aspect than she had been led to fear,
and the Principal's charming little speech of introduction made her
flush with quick pleasure. And the anxious eyes of Sadie Gonorowsky,
noting the flush, grew calm as Sadie whispered to Eva, her close cousin:

"Say, Teacher has a glad. She's red on the face. It could to be her
papa."

"No. It's comp'ny," answered Eva sagely. "It ain't her papa. It's
comp'ny the whiles Teacher takes him by the hand."

The children were not in the least disconcerted by the presence of the
large man. They always enjoyed visitors, and they liked the heavy gold
chain which festooned the wide waistcoa