CHAPTER SIXTEEN

A JOYOUS DIXIE

The next morning Miss Bayley’s glance wandered often to the corner of the room in the old log schoolhouse where sat the four little Martins. She wondered why they all looked so beamingly happy. Little did she dream of the exciting events of the day before. Not only had the small prodigal returned, but their monthly income had been increased, and no longer need the little mother scheme, plan, and contrive just to make ends meet. Little Jimmy-Boy’s much-needed warm coat now could be purchased as soon as the money came, and that would be at least two weeks before the really cold weather set in. In fact, there were years when November was as pleasant as October, and where, in all the world, could one find more beautiful autumn weather than in Nevada?

When Dixie, as usual, led the opening song, her voice rang out with lilting joyousness, and when she stood up to read, Miss Bayley was charmed with the expression with which she interpreted the little story. In fact, so pleased was she that she forgot to stop Dixie at the end of the second page, as was the custom, but permitted her to read the entire story of “The Three Bears.” It delighted her to note how Dixie’s voice changed when Papa Bear or the Baby Bear spoke.

Then, when the little reader had finished, the teacher exclaimed with real appreciation: “Dixie, you read that splendidly! You surely have a gift.”

Then it was that she recalled that the mother of the Martin children had been an actress, and a very audible sniff also reminded her of the fact that she was praising some one who was not a daughter of the board of education.

The sniff had come from the front seat, center, and the sniffer was, of course, the haughty little Jessica Archer. That maiden had risen, and, with a toss of her corn-colored curls, she announced, “Miss Sperry, our last teacher, said I was the best reader in this school, and my father said yesterday that she was the best teacher we’d ever had in Woodford’s.”

Miss Bayley was indignant, and yet, if she wished to remain, she must be politic, and now that she was so interested in the Martins, more than ever did she want to stay.

“You read very nicely, Jessica,” she told the irate little maid, “especially when you are thoroughly acquainted with the text. You may now read the entire story of ‘Henny Penny.’”

Somewhat mollified, Jessica Archer read the tale which she knew by heart, forwards or backwards, with more expression than was her wont. She did not intend to have those no-account Martins win more praise than was given to her.

With an inward sigh Miss Bayley assured Jessica that she had never before heard her read so well, which indeed was true, and then she called upon Ken to do an oral problem in arithmetic.

At recess, when the other children had trooped out of doors to play, Dixie remained, and Miss Bayley, who was writing on the board, turned to find a pair of eager eyes watching.

“Did you want to speak to me, Dixie, dear?” she inquired.

“Yes, ma’am, Miss Bayley, please, if ’twouldn’t be interrupting too much. I want to ask advice about something that’s very secret.”

The teacher smiled. She believed that she was at last to learn the cause of the inward glow that radiated from the thin, freckled face of the older Martin girl, who was sometimes called “homely.”

But the secret something was destined not to be told, for just then Jessica Archer, who had missed Dixie from the playground, entered the schoolroom in search of her. Not that she desired the companionship of a Martin, but she did not wish to give Dixie an opportunity to be alone with the teacher.

Miss Bayley frowned, and very softly she said: “Dear, can’t you come over to my cabin after school to-night? I very much want to have a real heart-to-heart visit with you.”

“Oh, teacher, Miss Bayley, I’d love to. You can’t think how I’d love to!” was the eagerly given reply.

Jessica Archer could not possibly have heard, and so it was merely a coincidence which prompted her to say, “Miss Bayley, my mother said I was to tell you to come home with me after school to-night and have supper at our house.”

“Thank you, dear,” Miss Bayley replied, “I am sorry that I cannot accept. Please thank your mother for me, and tell her that I had already made another engagement.”

The young teacher was rebellious. Her free time, surely, was her own, and she determined that she would do with it as she pleased.

Dixie was about to protest that she could come any other day just as well, but there was an expression in her dear teacher’s eyes that silenced her. Then as the clock marked the hour of ten, Miss Bayley rang a bell which ended recess and recalled the small pupils to their lessons. Jessica Archer, with another toss of her corn-yellow curls, seated herself, feeling that she was not being treated with the respect that was due the daughter of a sheep-king. She was suspicious, and that was why she lingered so long after school, rubbing imaginary marks from her reader, washing off the top of her desk with unusual care, and all this time, while the teacher was preparing examples for the following day, Dixie Martin sat on the bench outside of the little log schoolhouse, happily waiting.

At last the teacher’s patience reached the breaking-point. Looking up from her work, she found the pale-blue eyes of the daughter of the board of education watching her.

“Jessica Archer,” she exclaimed, and the degree of exasperation she felt sounded in her voice, “will you kindly tell me why you are remaining? The afternoon session ended at least fifteen minutes ago. You will please leave at once, and do not remain after school-hours again without asking my permission and explaining your reason for wishing to do so.”

Jessica’s expression was decidedly impudent. “There’s that Dixie Martin staying after school.”

The teacher’s eyes narrowed. “She is not in the schoolhouse. I have no control over all the big out-of-doors. What is more,” and this took moral courage, “Dixie is waiting for me at my request. Now take your books and go!”

Miss Bayley had never before been so angry at a pupil, for she believed, and truly, that she was being spied upon by the small daughter of Mrs. Sethibald Archer.

Jessica did depart, but she did not go home at once. Having reached a clump of low-growing pines near the inn, she hid among them to await the return of Miss Bayley to her small cabin home. At last she saw her coming, and with her was the hated Dixie Martin, and, what was even more shocking, Miss Bayley was swinging the little girl by the hand and skipping; yes, she was actually skipping in a way that no self-respecting teacher had ever done before.

Jessica remained in her place of hiding until she was sure that Dixie was going in the cabin with the teacher. Then, when she believed that she was unobserved, she crept but, keeping hidden as best she could behind the sagebrush, until she reached the trail that led down to her valley home.

Bursting into her mother’s room, she began to sob. Mrs. Sethibald Archer at that moment was struggling to write a speech, and a very large dictionary lay open on the table at her side.

Her real reason for having invited Miss Bayley to supper that night had been to have the assistance of the teacher in preparing the paper which she was to read on the day following in Genoa. Once before Miss Bayley had given invaluable assistance, and the ladies had greatly praised Mrs. Sethibald on her clear and lucid exposition of the subject. Just what that meant, the speaker of the day had not known, but she was convinced that it was praise, and she was desirous of doing equally well on the morrow.

“Do stop crying,” the weary mother now remonstrated, “and tell me where is Miss Bayley? I didn’t see her coming down the trail with you just now.”

“She—she wouldn’t come, Ma,” Jessica sobbed afresh. “She—she treats me awful mean. She says that horrid Dixie Martin is the smartest girl in the school. She says she can read better’n I can. I told her you wanted her to come to supper to-night, and she said she had another engagement, and—and, ma, it wasn’t so. She just had Dixie Martin go home with her, that’s all, for I hid and saw, and she didn’t act ladylike neither, ma; she skipped!”

Mrs. Sethibald Archer arose, and the expression in her eyes was not pleasant to see. “There’s your pa coming into the barnyard this very minute,” she said. “Run right out, darling of my heart, and tell him not to unhitch. Tell him I’m wishing him to drive me over to the inn. We’ll see whether or not my requests are to be set aside like this.”

Jessica ran out to deliver the message, which was really a command, and Sethibald Archer understood it as such. Then, returning, the child asked eagerly: “Ma, I want to go along.”

“Of course you may go. This thing’s going to be settled this very day. I’m not going to have any upstart of a teacher refuse my hospitality when I offer it. Indeed not.”