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A month after, on a sleighing-party, under the buffalo robes in the bob-sled, he whispered, "You pretend to be a grown-up schoolteacher, but you're nothing but a kiddie." His arm was about her. She resisted. "Don't you like the poor lonely bachelor?" he yammered in a fatuous way. "No, I don't! You don't care for me in the least. You're just practising on me." "You're so mean!
These members who came that morning comprised about one-fourth of those who formerly had been in the habit of dropping in for a chat, and their numbers were a fair indication of the fact that those who from various motives took the part of the schoolteacher in Brampton were as one to three. It is not necessary to repeat their expressions of indignation and sympathy. There was a certain Mr.
"Course, you couldn't be expected to know men and women like us fellers that's batted around among 'em all our lives, and you shut up with a houseful of kids teachin' 'em cipherin' and spellin'. I never did see a schoolteacher in my life, man or woman, that you couldn't take on the blind side and beat out of their teeth, not meanin' any disrespect to you or any of 'em, John." "Oh, sure not.
And this answer, for some strange reason, brought a flush of pleasure to the face of the old schoolteacher. "I did not mean for you to tell me now," she returned. "I only wanted you to know that, even though I am an old maid, I can understand." She left him then, and went to attend to her simple household duties.
Huxley was the seventh child of a plodding schoolteacher, born on the seventh day of the week on a seventh-floor back, he used to say. His genius for work came from his mother, a tireless, ambitious woman, who got things done while others were discussing them. "Had she been a man, she would have been leader of the Opposition in the House of Commons," her son used to say.
I give him the first move for his gun, and then I beat him to the draw and killed him on an even break. That's the straight of it. I know they won't believe it. Matter of fact I'm saying it for you, Jig, more'n I am for them!" It was an amazing thing to see the sudden light that flooded the face of the schoolteacher. "And I do believe you, Sinclair," he said.
Another blow, driven home with equal power and precision on the opposite side, made the tree shudder to its top, and the third blow sent it swishing to the earth. This brought a short cry of admiration and wonder from the schoolteacher, for which Sinclair rewarded him with one glance of contempt. With sweeping strokes he cleared away the half-dead branches. Presently the trunk was naked.
"He's been dead ten year, ain't he, 'Rill?" "About that, mother," admitted the schoolteacher. "An' I expect ev'ry year she makes more of a saint of him. I declare for't! sech wimmen oughter be made to marry ag'in. Nothin' but a second one will cure 'em of their fust!" Mainly Janice and her friend, the little schoolteacher, were engaged in their own particular conversation.
I put my hand at his throat and squeezed until I thought he was dead, and carried him around the house and threw him into the road. Then I ran to the house of Mary Underwood, who was once my schoolteacher, and told her what I had done. She took me home, awoke John Telfer, and then went to look for the body of my father, who was not dead after all.
And I shall remove her from public school and place her in a private institution under a tutor, where she'll no longer be exposed to contaminating influences.... I thank you for your intention, which I'm sure is kind and, will you please excuse me? I must dress for my bridge party. Good afternoon, Miss Hill." The schoolteacher plodded homeward, her eyes downcast and sad.
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