know what
they're learning nowadays."

And he blew his nose again, as though to say, "What a pity."

"Ah," said Mr. Frye, wisely, "there's no good in _that_."

Mr. Jeminy knew his own faults, and what was expected of him: he was
not severe enough. As he walked home that evening, he said to himself:
"I must be more severe; my pupils tease each other almost under my
nose. To-day as I wrote sums on the black-board, I watched out of the
corner of my eye. . . . Still, a tweaked ear is soon mended. And it's
true that when they learn to add and subtract, they will do each other
more harm."

The schoolmaster lived in a cottage on the hill overlooking the
village. He lived alone, except for Mrs. Grumble, who kept house for
him, and managed his affairs. Although they were simple, and easy to
manage, they afforded her endless opportunities for complaint. She was
never so happy as when nothing suited her. Then she carried her broom
into Mr. Jeminy's study, and looked around her with a gloomy air. "No,
really, it's impossible to go on this way," she would say, and sweep
Mr. Jeminy, his books and his papers, out of doors.

There, in the company of Boethius, he often considered the world, and
watched, from above, the gradual life of the village. He heard the
occasional tonk of cows on the hillside, the creak of a cart on the
road, the faint sound of voices, blown by the wind. From his threshold
he saw the afternoon fade into evening, and night look down across the
hills, among the stars. He saw the lights come out in the valley, one
by one through the mist, smelled the fresh, sweet air of evening; and
promptly each night at seven, far off and sad, rolling among the hills,
he heard the ghostly hooting of the night freight, leaving Milford
Junction.

"Here," he said to himself, "within this circle of hills, is to be
found faith, virtue, passion, and good sense. In this valley youth is
not without courage, or age without wisdom. Yet age, although wise, is
full of sorrow."

While he was musing in this vein, the odor of frying bacon from the
kitchen, warmed his nose. So he was not surprised to see Mrs. Grumble
appear in the doorway soon afterward. "Your supper is ready," she
said; "if you don't come in at once it will grow cold."

For supper, Mr. Jeminy had a bowl of soup, a glass of milk, bacon,
potatoes, and a loaf of bread. When Mrs. Grumble was seated, he bent
his head, and said: "Let us give thanks to God f