Kilmeny of the Orchard | Page 7

matter, that's what's the
matter!"
"Perhaps I am. When a man has had a mother like mine his standard of
womanly sweetness is apt to be pitched pretty high. Let's drop the
subject, father. Here, I want you to read this letter--it's from Larry."
"Humph!" grunted Mr. Marshall, when he had finished with it. "So
Larry's knocked out at last--always thought he would be--always
expected it. Sorry, too. He was a decent fellow. Well, are you going?"
"Yes, I think so, if you don't object."
"You'll have a pretty monotonous time of it, judging from his account
of Lindsay."
"Probably. But I am not going over in search of excitement. I'm going
to oblige Larry and have a look at the Island."
"Well, it's worth looking at, some parts of the year," conceded Mr.
Marshall. "When I'm on Prince Edward Island in the summer I always
understand an old Scotch Islander I met once in Winnipeg. He was
always talking of 'the Island.' Somebody once asked him, 'What island
do you mean?' He simply LOOKED at that ignorant man. Then he said,
'Why, Prince Edward Island, mon. WHAT OTHER ISLAND IS
THERE?' Go if you'd like to. You need a rest after the grind of
examinations before settling down to business. And mind you don't get

into any mischief, young sir."
"Not much likelihood of that in a place like Lindsay, I fancy," laughed
Eric.
"Probably the devil finds as much mischief for idle hands in Lindsay as
anywhere else. The worst tragedy I ever heard of happened on a
backwoods farm, fifteen miles from a railroad and five from a store.
However, I expect your mother's son to behave himself in the fear of
God and man. In all likelihood the worst thing that will happen to you
over there will be that some misguided woman will put you to sleep in
a spare room bed. And if that does happen may the Lord have mercy on
your soul!"



CHAPTER III
. THE MASTER OF LINDSAY SCHOOL
One evening, a month later, Eric Marshall came out of the old,
white-washed schoolhouse at Lindsay, and locked the door--which was
carved over with initials innumerable, and built of double plank in
order that it might withstand all the assaults and batteries to which it
might be subjected.
Eric's pupils had gone home an hour before, but he had stayed to solve
some algebra problems, and correct some Latin exercises for his
advanced students.
The sun was slanting in warm yellow lines through the thick grove of
maples to the west of the building, and the dim green air beneath them
burst into golden bloom. A couple of sheep were nibbling the lush
grass in a far corner of the play-ground; a cow-bell, somewhere in the
maple woods, tinkled faintly and musically, on the still crystal air,
which, in spite of its blandness, still retained a touch of the wholesome
austerity and poignancy of a Canadian spring. The whole world seemed
to have fallen, for the time being, into a pleasant untroubled dream.
The scene was very peaceful and pastoral--almost too much so, the
young man thought, with a shrug of his shoulders, as he stood in the

worn steps and gazed about him. How was he going to put in a whole
month here, he wondered, with a little smile at his own expense.
"Father would chuckle if he knew I was sick of it already," he thought,
as he walked across the play-ground to the long red road that ran past
the school. "Well, one week is ended, at any rate. I've earned my own
living for five whole days, and that is something I could never say
before in all my twenty-four years of existence. It is an exhilarating
thought. But teaching the Lindsay district school is distinctly NOT
exhilarating--at least in such a well-behaved school as this, where the
pupils are so painfully good that I haven't even the traditional
excitement of thrashing obstreperous bad boys. Everything seems to go
by clock work in Lindsay educational institution. Larry must certainly
have possessed a marked gift for organizing and drilling. I feel as if I
were merely a big cog in an orderly machine that ran itself. However, I
understand that there are some pupils who haven't shown up yet, and
who, according to all reports, have not yet had the old Adam totally
drilled out of them. They may make things more interesting. Also a few
more compositions, such as John Reid's, would furnish some spice to
professional life."
Eric's laughter wakened the echoes as he swung into the road down the
long sloping hill. He had given his fourth grade pupils their own choice
of subjects in the composition class that morning, and John Reid, a