As it was, when in March the term closed, not even the prize as
the best speller--a beautiful copy of "Pilgrim's Progress"--consoled
her for the cessation of school.
As for the teacher, he was glad the winter's work--which had been
undertaken and conscientiously carried through solely for the purpose
of obtaining means to pursue the study of his profession--was over.
He liked some of his scholars very much, Rachel especially; she was
so interested in her studies, so intelligent and grateful, that when,
with eyes swimming in tears, she bade him good-by, he felt a moment's
sorrow at leaving her, and comforted her by telling her what a good
girl she had been and that he would not forget her.
"You ought to have seen Rache an' Suse cry when old Gray bid us
good-by," said Tom that evening at home.
"Did you cry?" asked Margaret.
"Guess not! Glad school's out; an' I'm never goin' any more."
"I wouldn't if I were you, bub," said Margaret; "you know enough now."
She always called him "bub" when she wanted to vex him, "But old Gray,
as you call him, will be somebody yet, see if he don't."
The entrance of Mr. Stillman closed the conversation, and Tom went
out, banging the door after him. No wonder Margaret was getting
ill-natured.
The winter was a long, dull season at Stillman's.
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