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Updated: June 28, 2025
She gave Weary another kick, commanded him again to "Come out of it and get busy," and the Dwarf obediently ate its allotted portion of poison. And every one applauded Weary more enthusiastically than they had the others, for they thought it was all his part. So much for justice. "Our last selection will be a tableau entitled, 'Under the Mistletoe," announced the schoolma'am's clear tones.
But now it occurred to him that to escort her home would be a wise move. "By all means go back with her," Blanch had replied when he broached his idea, "and by the time you have reached Sandgate you will know where you stand in your schoolma'am's feelings. She knows, too, how mamma feels towards her, so that obstacle is removed.
For wherever he went, or whatever he did, Happy Jack was conscious of the fact that his name was down on the schoolma'am's list and he was definitely committed to do anything she asked him to do, even to "speaking a piece" which was in his eyes the acme of mental torture.
Don't rubber like that, Weary; it ain't good manners, and besides; the schoolma'am's getting fighty, if I'm any judge." Weary pulled himself together and tried to look away, but a pair of long blue eyes with heavy white lids drew him hypnotically across the room.
"I should smile to remark," Weary assented emphatically. "Sun-up sure sees us on the road, Cadwolloper and yuh want to be sure and wear that new pink silk handkerchief, that matches the roses in your cheeks so nice. My schoolma'am's got a friend visiting her, and she's been hearing a lot about yuh. She's plumb wild to meet yuh.
The schoolma'am's hair was the darkest brown and had a shine to it where the light struck at the proper angle, and her eyes were large and came near being round, and they were a velvety brown and also had a shine in them. Still Weary shied consistently and systematically.
Then she took up her guitar and went down from the stage to where the Little Doctor waited with her mandolin. While the tableau was being arranged they meant to play together in lieu of a regular orchestra. The schoolma'am's brow was smooth, for the entertainment had been a success so far; and the tableau would be all right, she was sure for Weary had charge of that.
The schoolma'am's emphasis and English seemed to collapse together, but Weary did not notice that. "I'm sure grateful to be let down easy," he said softly, without looking up; his head was bent so that his hat quite concealed from the schoolma'am his face, but if she had known him longer, perhaps she would have gone carefully after that.
In his quandary he turned to sad-faced Montana and asked: "Who's this gent you call Cold Feet?" "He's a tenderfoot," declared Montana, "and he's queer. He's yaller, they say, and that's why they call him Cold Feet. Besides, he teaches the school. Where's they a real man that would do a schoolma'am's work? Living or dying, he ain't much good. You can lay to that!"
You may apologize to me; you may even be sincerely repentant" the schoolma'am's tone at this point implied considerable doubt "but you are powerless to return the life you have so heedlessly taken. You have revealed a low, brutal trait which I had hoped your nature could not harbor, and I am am deeply shocked and and grieved."
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