What is the
matter with you, Samuel?"
"It is a v-very thirsty m-morning," remarked Samuel, looking at
Rebecca while the school tittered.
"I judged so. Stand by the other side of the pail, with Rebecca."
Rebecca's head was bowed with shame and wrath. Life looked too
black a thing to be endured. The punishment was bad enough, but
to be coupled in correction with Seesaw Simpson was beyond human
endurance.
Singing was the last exercise in the afternoon, and Minnie
Smellie chose "Shall we Gather at the River?" It was a curious
choice and seemed to hold some secret association with the
situation and general progress of events; or at any rate there
was apparently some obscure reason for the energy and vim with
which the scholars looked at the empty water pail as they shouted
the choral invitation again and again:--
"Shall we gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river?"
Miss Dearborn stole a look at Rebecca's bent head, and was
frightened. The cbild's face was pale save for two red spots
glowing on her checks. Tears hung on her lashes; her breath came
and went quickly, and the hand that held her pocket handkerchief
trembled like a leaf.
"You may go to your seat, Rebecca," said Miss Dearborn at the end
of the first song. "Samuel, stay where you are till the close of
school.
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