ces, that seem to cut right and left. Patty almost thinks his head
is made of eyes, like the head of a fly; and she is sure he has a pair
in the pockets of his swallow-tail coat.

But it is a great mistake. He does not see a twentieth part of the
mischief that is going on; and what he does see he dares not take much
notice of, for he is mortally afraid of the large boys.

There is a great noise in the room of shuffling feet and buzzing lips,
but he pretends not to hear it.

Up very near the back seat sits Mary Lyman, or Polly, as almost
everybody calls her, with a blue woolen cape over her shoulders, called
a vandyke, and her hair pulled and tied, and doubled and twisted, and
then a goosequill shot through it like a skewer.

Behind her, in the very back seat of all, sits Dorcas, the prettiest
girl in town, with a pale, sweet face, and a wide double frill in the
neck of her dress.

Patty's future husband, William Parlin, is just across the aisle. He is
fourteen years old, and you may be sure has never thought yet of
marrying Patty.

The twins, Silas and George, sit together, pretending to do sums on a
slate; but, I am sorry to say, they are really making pictures of the
master. George says "his forehead sneaks away from his face," and on the
slate he is made to look like an idiot. But the color of his hair cannot
be painted with a white slate pencil.

"I expect every day I shall scream out 'Fire!'" whispered Silas! "Mr.
Purple's a-fire!"

In the floor stands brother Moses, with a split shingle astride his
nose, after the fashion of a modern clothes-pin. So much for eating
beechnuts in school, and peeling them for the little girls; but he and
Ozem Wiggins nod at each other wisely behind Mr. Purple's back, as much
as to say, they know what the reason is _they_ have to be punished; it
is because they are only nine years old; if they were in their teens the
master wouldn't dare! Ozem has not peeled beechnuts, but he has "called
names," and has to hold out a hard-wood poker at arm's length. If he
should curve his elbow in the least, it would get a rap from the
master's ferule.

"Class in Columbian Orator," says Mr. Purple, "take your places out in
the floor."

A dozen of the large boys and girls march forth, their shoes all
squeaking as if some of the goosequills had got into the soles.

"Observe!"

You would not understand that, but they know it means, "Make your
manners;" and the girls obey by quick little c