rine. The other children's parents paid her in corn,
and barley, and other good things that they raised on their farms. If
the teacher had been a man, the Puritan mothers would have spun and
woven some warm cloth to make him a coat, or knitted him a woollen
muffler, or a pair of stockings.

Late in the afternoon, after their luncheon of cold hasty pudding and
apples and more study and reading, school was over. Peregrine and
Patience each made a low bow before Mistress Endicott, went out of the
door, and started home. The dusk was already falling, but they ran,
and sang as they hurried along to keep up their courage.

There, at last, was the twinkle of the tallow candle which their
mother had set in the window to lead them home. She was waiting for
them at the door, and the kettle was singing on the hob. The
school-day, almost three hundred years ago, was over.

THE LAST CLASS

That morning, Franz was taking his way very slowly to school. He had a
great dread of being scolded, particularly as the school-master had
said that the lesson for the day would be on participles about which
Franz did not know a word. Suddenly an idea came to him. He would go
through the fields.

It was so warm, so clear. He heard the blackbirds whistling on the
borders of the wood, and in the meadow, behind the saw-mill, the
Prussians were drilling. Then, as he passed on by the residence of the
mayor, Franz saw them putting a notice on the gate. There, for two
years, had been given out all the bad news; lost battles for Alsace,
calls to arms, the orders of the command. The blacksmith and his
apprentice were putting up the notice, and Franz called,

"What has happened, that they are posting a bulletin again?" But the
blacksmith spoke gruffly,

"Why do you loiter, little one? It is not safe. Run along quickly to
school."

So Franz made haste at last, although he was sure that the blacksmith
was not in earnest, and he arrived all breathless, at his class.

School seemed, somehow, very different to Franz that morning. There
was ordinarily a good deal of noise as the children came in from the
street, desks were opened, and lessons were repeated out loud and all
in unison, and the school-master pounded with his ruler on his table.

Now, however, there was silence.

Although Franz was late, the school-master looked at him without the
least anger, and spoke softly as he said, "Go quickly to your place,
my little Franz. We have alrea