as it was. Timothy Purple was the worst
teacher that ever came to Perseverance. He was very cruel, but he was
cowardly too; for he punished the helpless little children and let the
large ones go free. I have no patience with him when I think of it!

The first day of school he marched about the room, pretending to look
for a nail in the wall to hang the naughtiest scholar on, whether it was
a boy or a girl. Patty was so frightened that her milk-teeth chattered.
You little folks who go to pleasant, orderly schools, and receive no
heavier punishment than black marks in a book, can't have much idea how
she suffered.

She expected every day after this to see a rope come out of Mr. Purple's
pocket, and was sure if he hung anybody it would be Patty Lyman. Mr.
Purple soon found she was afraid of him, and it gratified him, because
he was just the sort of man to like to see little ones tremble before
him.

"I tell you what," said Moses, indignantly, "he's all the time picking
upon Patty."

And so he was. He often shook her shoulders, twitched her flying hair,
or boxed her pretty little ears. Not that he disliked Patty, by any
means. I suppose a cat does not dislike a mouse, but only torments it
for the sake of seeing it quiver.

Moses was picked upon too; but he did not make much complaint, for the
"other fellows" of his age were served in the same way.

As for poor little browbeaten Patty, she went home crying almost every
night, and her tender mother was sometimes on the point of saying to
her,--

"Dear child, you shall not go another day."

But she did not say it, for good Mrs. Lyman could not bear to make a
disturbance. She knew if she should take Patty out of school, other
parents would take their children out too; for nobody was at all
satisfied with Mr. Purple, and a great many people said they wished the
committee had force enough to turn him away.

But there was a storm in the air which nobody dreamed of.

The sun rose one morning just as usual, and Patty started for school at
half past eight with the rest of the children. You would have pitied her
if you had been there. The tears were dripping from her seven years old
eyes like a hail shower. It was very cold, but she didn't mind that
much, for she had a yellow blanket round her head and shoulders, and
over those boots of Moses's were drawn a pair of big gray stockings,
which turned up and flopped at the toes. And it wasn't that ridiculous
goosequill in her