Little Tora, The Swedish Schoolmistress and Other Stories | Page 6

natural to the little
schoolmistress, and she hummed to herself a simple song of long ago,

to which she could always hear the buzzing accompaniment of that
stranger who had proved to her a faithful, untiring benefactor and
friend.
CHAPTER III.
A NARROW ESCAPE.
The winter had been unusually long. For nearly six months the ground
had been continually white. Not that it had been clothed by an
ever-smooth, fair mantle. The snow had been tossed and whirled by the
wild winds till it was fitfully heaped, now in the meadows, and now
banked up against the very hill-sides. But for the dark woods as
landmarks, the face of the country would have seemed to be utterly
changed. The ice-covered streams were hidden away out of sight, and
the wide ponds appeared but as smooth pastures.
A path from the little-frequented road had been kept open to the
schoolhouse. Week by week this narrow way to the seat of learning had
been walled higher and higher, until at last the rustic scholars seemed
passing through a stately white marble corridor as they filed along
towards the well-known door.
The first days of April had come and gone without a flower-bud to
greet them. The weather had suddenly grown soft and mild, and a
drizzling rain had been falling all night.
Nils appeared early at school; but the tidy mistress had already cleared
away all traces of her modest breakfast, and was ready to bid him
welcome more as a visitor than a scholar. They had some pleasant chat
together, and then the teacher said seriously, as she laid her hand on the
boy's shoulder, "You must try as hard as you can, Nils, to do well, or I
am afraid you will not 'go up' this year."
"I do try--I try as hard as I can!" he said. Tears suddenly filled his large
eyes as he added, "I am not like other boys, and I know it."
"God knows what you can do, Nils," she said tenderly; "and He will not

judge you for what is not your fault. It may be, 'Well done, good and
faithful servant!' for you at the last, if you cannot be a great scholar."
Some merry voices at the door put an end to the conversation, and the
school was soon going on in its usual routine.
Many weather-wise mothers had kept their children at home, and only
eight scholars were in their places, not counting Nils, who occupied in
many practical things a middle ground between the little ones and the
teacher.
A heavy rain soon began to fall, and pattered cheerily on the roof, to
the great delight of the small pupils. Towards noon the schoolmistress
was hearing the class read aloud. She sat with her back to the windows,
with the light falling on the book she held in her hand; but she did not
see a letter. Suddenly she looked up and said, "Nils, please open the
right-hand shutter in my room."
The boy obeyed instantly; but in another moment he said quickly,
"Please come in here a moment, teacher."
She disappeared immediately, closing the door behind her. Nils pointed
to the window with wide-open eyes, and said, "The meadow is all
afloat!"
"I know it!" she answered calmly. "I saw it while the children were
getting their books for the class. If the pond above breaks over the
banks, we may be all swept away in a moment. There is no time to be
lost. The children must not be frightened. I have thought just what to do.
You can swim, Nils?"
"Yes," was his only answer.
"I can swim too," she said. "If anything goes wrong, we must do what
we can for the children." She looked into the clear, calm eyes of the
boy, and she knew she could trust him. They returned quietly to the
schoolroom. The teacher had hardly taken her seat and closed the book
she had held in her hand, when there was a loud crashing sound without,

and a heavy thud against the outer door.
"It's all right," said Nils calmly, taking his cue from the teacher. "I put
up the bar after the children came in. I supposed this might happen."
"We don't mind the snow falling against the door," said the teacher
cheerfully. "We didn't mean to go out that way. We shall go home by
boat anyhow. I've thought about that before."
"By boat!" exclaimed the children delightedly, for to them a row or a
sail was the most charming thing in the world.
"But where's the boat?" asked a prudent little boy, with a sceptical look
in his small countenance. "And where's the water?" he would have
added if he had dared.
"Two boats--two boats are here! I see them now!"