Dixie Martin, the Girl of Woodford's Cañon

by Grace May North

  CHAPTER FIVE THE WOODFORD SCHOOLHOUSE

  Mr. Sethibald Martin advanced with what he believed to be a dignifiedstride. Without removing his hat, he said, "This here is Miss JosephineBayley, I take it--her as has credentials to teach correct speakin' andfigurin'."

  A voice from the vehicle was heard. "You'd better look at 'em,Sethibald, to make sure. I don't want no teacher that can't learn myJessica correct speakin', such as will fit her for the high sphere sheis to fill as the daughter of a sheep-king." The speech had beenplanned, that the new teacher might at once be impressed with theimportance of the Archers in that mountain community.

  The stubby gentleman seemed actually to puff up a bit, "as a toadmight," the newcomer found herself thinking, but, remembering hispresent mission, he explained the duties and requirements of theposition, then added, as he glanced almost scornfully at the silent,listening group of four children and a burro, "It sure is onfortunate.Miss Bayley, that the pupils from these here parts are so no-account, myown Jessica bein' exceptionated."

  His glance turned with pride to the snub-nosed child in the buggy. Then,in a whispered aside: "It's lucky for you that you've got one promisin'pupil like my daughter, Miss Bayley. 'Twould be dull work teachin' ifyou didn't have nothin' but dumb young 'uns like those Pine TreeMartins." He paused, seeming to expect comment. This, then, was MissBayley's moment for being diplomatic.

  "I am sure that I shall find your little daughter a very receptivepupil, Mr. Archer," she said graciously. This time it was certain thatMr. Sethibald had puffed. He had never heard the word "receptive"before, but it had a most complimentary sound.

  "Yes, ma'am, Miss Bayley, you'll find the little sheep-princess all thatan' more, much more, ma'am." He was unctuously rubbing his hands as hespoke. Then going to the side of the vehicle and holding out abediamonded hand, he added, "Come now, Jessica, darlin', and meet thenew teacher, her as is goin' to teach you lots of nice things."

  He lifted the small girl to the ground, and Miss Bayley advanced, herhand held out, but the little "sheep-princess" drew back and clung toher father.

  The teacher found herself comparing this lack of manners with thenatural graciousness of Carolina, but the father evidently consideredhis daughter's behavior as being praiseworthy.

  "Shy little thing," he commented in another of his quite audible asides."Not bold like that Carry Martin."

  Then the unexpected happened. The little girl referred to darted forwardwith catlike swiftness. "My name is _not_ Carry Martin," she cried."It's Carolina, and my folks are--" She was drawn back and quieted bypoor Dixie, who looked her misery. Teacher, quite at a loss what to say,glanced at the shy and model Jessica at that moment and saw her stickingout her tongue and tilting her nose at the Martins.

  Miss Bayley sighed. There were evidently snags ahead, but Mrs. Archerwas speaking. "Sethibald," she said, with a desire to impress the newteacher with her own great importance, "it's time now that you werea-drivin' me over to Genoa, where I have to speak in front of a mothers'meetin' on how to bring up the young." Then, turning to Miss Bayley, sheadded condescendingly, "Me and you'll be great friends, I'm sure, bein'as we're both sot on upliftin' folks in this here neighborhood fromshiftlessness and ignorance."

  Before the astonished young teacher could reply, the stubby, reddishgentleman had climbed up on the front seat, and the restive white horseshad started off down the pine-edged lane at a brisk speed, and JosephineBayley, not knowing whether to laugh or cry, led the way into the largebare room of the old schoolhouse, where she was to spend many a dayfinding new problems and new pleasures. There were ten pupils in all.Two of them, Mercedes and Franciscito Guadalupe, had but recently cometo that mountain country from Mexico.

  Their father was the new overseer at the Archer ranch, and as yet theyhad not learned one word of English.

  They were brightly dressed, dark-skinned little creatures, and each timethat the new teacher spoke to them, their reply was the same, "_Muchasgracias, Senorita_," which sounded very polite, but how was JosephineBayley to teach them reading and spelling if neither knew the languageof the other?

  Two of the remaining pupils were equally hopeless, being the mostforlorn little mites, children of a trapper who lived somewhere overtoward Lake Tahoe, but, as Miss Bayley was to find, these pupils onlycame now and then, when their trapper-father could spare time to bringthem, one in front and one back of him, on his horse.

  Maggie and Millie Mullet were twins, aged six years, and Miss Bayleyfound as the weeks went by that although, after an hour of earnesteffort, she might teach them to spell such words as "cat," "bat," "rat,""mat," when questioned the next day their minds were as blank as thoughthey had never heard the words.

  The tenth pupil was a very large boy, sixteen years of age, who was theonly son of the burly blacksmith over at Woodford's. He studieddiligently, and when he once learned a thing he seemed never to forgetit, and so of him Miss Bayley had a little more hope. However, hisfather, the powerful Ira Jenkins, Senior, thought "larnin'" unnecessary,but the mother, having learned to read, pored over novels, even whenpreparing meals, and she had decided that her overgrown son should be apreacher like the one who came once a month from Genoa and held"meetin's" in the parlor at the inn.

  As Miss Josephine Bayley looked over her little class that firstmorning, she felt desperately at a loss to know how to begin. Eachchild, it seemed, was studying something different from all the others,and, to add to her discomfort, the new teacher realized that the eyes ofJessica Archer, which were like her father's, were watching her everymove as though she had been admonished by her elders to observe andreport all that happened.

  The one bright spot was the corner where the wide-awake, intelligentyoung Martins sat, and Josephine Bayley found herself actually glad thatthey were "blue-blooded."

  Just as the new teacher was becoming almost panicky at the newness ofeverything, the slim, freckled hand of Dixie Martin appeared on high,and when Miss Bayley nodded, that small maiden arose, and, going to thedesk on the platform, she said softly, "Please, teacher, we usuallybegin with singing. We all know the 'Good-Morning' song. I'll lead ifyou want me to; I often do."

  "Oh, I'd be ever so grateful if you would."

  And so Dixie turned around and began to sing, in a clear, bird-likevoice, a simple little melody that the older pupils knew and sang withher. There were four stanzas, and when the song was finished, the handof Jessica Archer went up, and, rising, she said that as she was thesmartest pupil in the school, she was always asked to read first.

  "Very well, Jessica. My pupils, I am sure, will all be glad to helptheir new teacher to-day by making suggestions. Now, if you will readwhere you left off last term, I shall better understand how to classyou."

  "Oh, I am class A," the small girl said proudly, "and Dixie Martin andKen and Ira Jenkins are class B, and the rest are class C."

  "Indeed!" was all the new teacher said, but she was thinking that herpredecessor had evidently succeeded in fulfilling all the requirementsof the board. But why, then, had she left? Oh, she did recall that Mrs.Enterprise Twiggly had said that the last teacher had married aprospector, who, for a time, had been in the mountains near Woodfords.

  Romance was something that interested Josephine Bayley, aged twentyyears, not at all. She had never been in love and never would be, shewas sure of that. She was going to be wedded to her profession. She hadnever even met a lad who could interest her, and surely if she hadfailed to find one in the city of New York, where she had manydelightful friends, she would not find him in this wild, rugged mountaincountry.

  And all the while these thoughts were idly passing through the brain ofJosephine Bayley, her "smartest" pupil was stumbling and stutteringthrough a short story in the Fourth Reader. It was not until the littlegirl sat down and was casting a triumphant glance over toward the Martincorner that the new teacher, with a start, awakened from her reverie.

  Dixie Martin read next, and with
so much expression that Miss Bayley wasboth amused and interested. She believed, and truly, that the mother'syearning to be an actress had descended as real talent to at least thisone of her children.

  "Dixie," the new teacher said, "I wish you would remain in at recess. Iwant to speak to you."

  If there was a jealous tilt to the curly head of Jessica, Miss Bayleydid not notice it. When the others had filed out, for fifteen minutes offreedom, the new teacher took the hand of Dixie and said earnestly:"Dear, why are you reading in a Third Reader? Here is a Sixth Reader.See if you couldn't read that."

  The gold-brown eyes were glowing. "Oh, yes, ma'am, Miss Bayley, I could.I love reading. After supper every night I read to the children'Pilgrim's Progress' and 'Oliver Twist' and the Almanac. That's all thebooks we have."

  There was a firmer line about the mouth of Josephine Bayley. She had inthat moment decided that she would tutor at least this one of theMartins, out of school-hours. Over her free time, surely, the boardwould have no jurisdiction.