The Second Chance

by Nellie L. McClung

  CHAPTER X

  THE NEW PUPILS

  Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting; The soul that rises with us, our life's star, Has had elsewhere its setting, and cometh from afar, Not in entire forgetfulness, not in utter nakedness, But trailing clouds of glory do we come From God--who is our Home.

  _----Wordsworth._

  WHEN school opened after the Easter holiday, the Watson family beganto attend. It was two miles to the bare little schoolhouse at thecross-roads. The road lay straight across the prairie, green now withthe tender green of spring, and dotted thick with blue anemones. Aprairie fire, the fall before, had burned away all the old grass, andso everywhere the country was of the richest dazzling green, variedonly in the shades--the tender, soft green of the young wheat, thebluish green of the oat-fields, with here and there splendid grovesof poplars, making a scene which, to Pearl's eyes, was of untoldbeauty.

  Away to the south the Tiger Hills were veiled in blue smoke, as ifsome distant prairie fire was raging through the meadows beyond.Across the long reach of upland pasture--swiftly and almostnoiselessly--swept the mixed train of the Canadian Northern, its hugesmoke plume standing straight up in the morning air, white and graylike billows of chiffon, suddenly changing to deepest black.

  "They're stokin' up for the grade," Jimmy said, as he stood watchingit. Jimmy had not stolen rides on freight-cars without learningsomething.

  Danny, although not quite of school age, was with the party becausehe refused to stay at home. Aunt Kate encouraged him in the idea, andmade him a pair of pants and fixed up a striped sweater of Bugsey'sfor him. So Danny, fully clothed in boy's attire, was very much inevidence.

  When they were crossing the fire-guard around the school, Bugsey grewfaint-hearted and began to cry. "I'm feart he'll bate me," hewhimpered.

  Bugsey had been to school in Millford, of course, but his teacherthere had been Miss Morrison, and the teacher here was a man.

  Patsey showed signs of being infected with the tear-germ, too, and soPearlie quickly forged ahead with the unaffected members of herparty, to get them under cover before they had time to think of it.

  School was called when she arrived in haste and walked up to theteacher's desk, followed by Danny, Mary, Jimmy, and Tommy. Danny washiding his face in her skirts. Tommy and Jimmy were outwardly calm,but Pearl knew that it would take very little to stampede them.

  "We're coming to school, if you please," Pearl said, keeping a tighthold of Danny.

  The teacher was a man of middle-age, with heavy eyebrows and greatdignity of manner. He looked at the Watson family in silence.

  "Speak to them, or they'll bolt," Pearl said, with the authority thatcomes of being the eldest girl in a large family.

  The teacher saw the situation and rose to it. "Come here, Johnny," hesaid at a venture. "Are you a little gun-shy?"

  "My name ain't Johnny, if yer meanin' me," said Jimmy, with a fineshow of courage.

  Pearl introduced her flock hastily and told the teacher to hang on toDanny while she went for the others.

  When Pearl came in leading the other two boys the teacher exclaimedin wonder.

  "This'll be all until winter-time," Pearl assured him, "and thenTeddy and Billy will be comin'."

  "I guess we're sure of the Government grant now," the teacher said,smiling. He helped Pearl to convince the boys that they were in thehands of friends, and even brought out the contents of his pocket andsearched through his desk to get Danny to take a cheerful view oflife again.

  The Watson family, when they were at last settled in their new seats,did a great deal to relieve the bareness of the dingy school-room.All at once the room seemed to be very much alive and stirring.

  While the teacher was busy with the boys, Pearl's sharp eyes werelooking over her new schoolmates. Instinctively she knew that thepale little girl ahead of her must be Libby Anne Cavers. She hadwondered often, since coming to the farm, how Libby Anne would regardthe Watson family. Would she think that they had taken away her oldhome? Impulsively Pearl leaned over and presented Libby Anne with anew slate-rag securely anchored by a stout string to the neck of asmall bottle filled with water. This new way of slate-cleaning hadnot yet reached the Chicken Hill School, where the older methodprevailed, and as a result, Libby Anne's small slate-rag was darkgray in colour and unpleasant in character, and nearly always lent toher less provident neighbours.

  Libby Anne turned her pale face and frightened eyes toward the bignew girl, and in that glance Pearl read all her sad child history.Libby Anne was just what she had pictured her to be, little and thinand scared. She put her hands on Libby Anne's thin shoulders and,drawing her back, whispered in her ear: "I like ye, Libby Anne."

  Libby Anne's face brightened, though she made no reply. However, in afew minutes she pulled the cork from the little bottle and gave herslate a vigorous cleaning with the new rag, and Pearl knew heroblation of friendship had been favourably received.

  Mr. Donald, the teacher, was a student of human nature, as everysuccessful teacher must be, and before the day was over he was surethat in Pearl Watson he had a pupil of more than ordinary interest.At the afternoon recess he called her to his desk and asked her abouther previous school experience.

  Pearl told him frankly her hope and fears. "I want to learn," shesaid. "I want to know things, because I love to learn, and besides, Ihave to be able to tell the boys and Mary what's what. We're awfulpoor, but we're happy, and there's none of us real stupid. All wewant is a chance. I just ache to know things. Do you ever?" she askedhim suddenly.

  "I do, Pearl," he answered. "I do, indeed."

  "Oh, well," she said, "I guess you know all of the things I'mthinkin' about; but I suppose the farther a person goes the more theysee that they don't know.

  "That's it, Pearl," he said, smiling. "The larger the circle oflight, the larger the darkness around it."

  Pearl pondered a minute.

  "That's just what I've often thought, but I didn't know how to sayit. Well," she went on, "I often wonder what makes the wind blow, andwhat makes you fall when you step off things, and how does the hailcome when it's scorchin' hot; and I've often wondered what holds theclouds up, and I'd like to know what's goin' on, and what peoplethink about things."

  She stopped suddenly, and looked closely into his face. She had to besure of a sympathetic listener.

  "Go on, Pearl," Mr. Donald said, kindly. "I am interested. Tell mewhat else you are wondering about."

  "Well," she said, "I'll tell you the biggest wonder I have. I wouldnot tell it to every one, for if they've never thought of it it isjust as well for them, for there's a danger of thinkin' too far init. I am wonderin' often why God let the bad men crucify the dearLord, and Him that kind and sweet and gentle. I often think about itat night, and can't sleep. I think about all the angels, bigstrappin' fellows, flyin' around the cross, feelin' so sorry for Him,and just wantin' so bad to hold Him up in their arms, but knowin'they dassent interfere without orders, and I often imagine to meselfthat the word did come to the angels to jump in and save Him, and Ican just see how tender they would lift Him down from the cross, andthe two poor fellows with Him, and they would float away off into theblue sky, leaving the bad people down below, the soldiers and thehigh priests and all of them, gawkin' up, wid their mouths open,watchin' them growin' smaller and smaller, until they were gone cleanfrom sight; and then Pilate would say to them: 'Didn't I tell you towatch what you were about? Let me tell yez, ye have put your foot init good and plenty this time.' But then I think of what really didhappen, and it just breaks my heart to think of it."

  Pearl's tears overflowed her eyes, but she wiped them away and wenton steadily. "I wonder if you could tell me why it happened, Mr.Donald. I know God did it for the best. I am not sayin' a wordagainst Him, mind ye, for I know what He's like, and how good He is,and all; but it was awful to let our Lord die that like."

  Mr. Donald felt his own heart strangely moved at the little girl'sdistress.

  "
I am not very well up in these things, Pearl," he said; "but if Hehadn't died he could not have shown us the resurrection."

  "Oh, I don't mind Him dyin'," said Pearl quickly. "Everybody has todie, and when they've lived right and done the best they could forevery one, it is just glorious to die and go home. It's just likepeople comin' home from college with their examination papers markedhigh, and their certificates and medals to show how hard they worked;or I guess it's more like soldiers comin' home all tired out, andsunburnt, showing their scars--we can show our hands all hard withwork for other people, and our faces cheerful and patient. That'swhat'll count up there, I guess. It's all right to die, but I can'tsee why He had to die that way--it was terrible, and it wasn't comin'to Him."

  "Perhaps it was to show us how much He loved us," the teacher saidgently.

  "He shows us that in lots of ways," Pearl said. "He says He loves us,and ye can't live one day without feelin' that there's love in theworld, and I'm sure it didn't come from anywhere else but God--oh,no, it didn't need, that to show us."

  The teacher was looking at her in wonder.

  "I tell you what to do, Pearl. Ask Mr. Burrell; he'll be able to tellyou."

  After school that night Pearl opened the theological discussionagain.

  "Mr. Donald," she said, "don't you think we should try to get someone to preach here and have a Sunday-school? These children here,except Lib. Cavers, don't know anything about the Bible. I've beenasking them about Easter Sunday. They don't know anything about it,only it's a time to see how many eggs you can hold, and they thinkthat God is a bad word It would just be fine if we could have aSunday-school and learn verses. Our Jimmy got a black Testamentfor fifty verses, said exactly like the book. You would besuperintendent, wouldn't you?"

  Mr. Donald coloured painfully. "I don't know, Pearl--we'll see," hesaid evasively.

  That night when he went back to his boarding-place--the big brickhouse on the hill--he was strangely disturbed and troubled. He hadtold himself years ago that religion was a delusion, a will o' thewisp. But there was something in Pearl's face and in her words thatseemed to contradict the logic of his reasoning.

  Charles Donald was a man who tried hard to make a stoic of himself,to convince himself that he was past feeling the stings of evilfortune. He had suffered so deeply that he told himself that nothingcould ever hurt him again. A spiritual numbness had come upon him,which he took to be the compensation for the variety of hard knockshe had experienced. He was a genial, pleasant, gentle man, but hisface bore that look of settled sadness that comes into the eyes ofpeople for whom the world has held an awkward hour.

  He was regarded by the people in the school district as a goodteacher, and, indeed, he had quite conscientiously put before hispupils as much of the curriculum as they could conveniently grasp. Hewas kind and patient with his pupils always, but he had never exertedhimself to change their outlook upon life, or to put nobler idealsbefore them.

  "They are happier as they are," he often thought to himself. "The oxin the field, so long as the grass is good, is happier than most ofus with all our wisdom, and well he should be, for his days are freefrom care, and when his days are over there's the quick blow and thesharp knife, and that is not so bad."

  But after Pearl came to school, he found himself going over hisneglected library to find the books that would throw light on themany questions that she brought forward, and every evening he wentcarefully over the lessons, taking a distinct pride now in makingthem of interest to her.

  In this way, having more to employ his thoughts, he soon began tothink of the past less sadly. Pearl's optimism was contagious.