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There was nothing overt, nothing unkind, but the stranger was as effectually frozen out as if he had fled before a battery of lorgnettes. The cottagers were like one large family. There was no more reserve among the young people than if they had been a party of happy well-trained schoolchildren. What wonder that the stranger within their gates felt his remoteness!
There were cards hanging from the rafters bearing briar pipes, bottles of lotion for the hair of schoolchildren, samples of sauce, and stationery. His shop had its own native smell.
But he never thought of Rose Gaither without a sense of deepest humiliation. He had loved Rose when they were schoolchildren together, but his passion had now reached such proportions that he deeply resented the fact that his school-hoy love had been so careless and shallow a feeling.
I was much amused lately by a half-dozen or more letters that came to me from some Californian schoolchildren, who wrote to ask if I would please tell them whether or not birds have sense. One little girl said: "I would be pleased if you would write and tell me if birds have sense. I wanted to see if I couldn't be the first one to know."
"I think they are perfectly ridiculous," replied Miss Minchin, sharply; "but they will look very well at the head of the line when we take the schoolchildren to church on Sunday. She has been provided for as if she were a little princess."
Jonesville wouldn't care if you made a couple of quarts for sickness or jell, but she feels as if she couldn't bear to see you swing out and make so much." Sez I, "Jonesville and I want you to stop makin' it we want you to like dogs." And then sez I, in still firmer axents, "It hain't a-settin' a good example to the schoolchildren in Palo Alto and the United States."
Harold A. Loring of North Dakota has recently harmonized some of the songs of the Sioux. Several singers of Indian blood are giving public recitals of this appealing and mysterious music of their race. There has even been an attempt to teach it to our schoolchildren, and Geoffrey O'Hara, a young composer of New York City, made a beginning in this direction under the auspices of the Indian Bureau.
I was now hemmed in with the crowds of solemn faces, many exhibiting intense emotion, and eyes glistening with tears of joy. In struggling my way to the Mission house, I had nearly overlooked the schoolchildren. The dear little ones had been posted in order on one side, and were all standing in mute expectation of a recognition.
"You need something after that business in there, and there isn't time to get supper ready. It's as good for you as supper, anyway. I don't believe in underfeeding. Nothing's too good to swallow." She watched them sip the tea slowly like two schoolchildren. "And when you've drunk it you must go right to bed, Kitty," she added presently.
A half hour later the two were nipping the grass together in the pasture, and he, I have no doubt, was eagerly telling her the story of his adventures. The question that the Californian schoolchildren put to me, "Have the birds got sense?" still "sticks in my crop."
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