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Bacheller, Irving, 1859-1950

"Darrel of the Blessed Isles"

There was no halting--it
was all over in half a minute.
"You'll please remain there," said he, coolly, "until I tell you to
sit down."
He turned his back on the bully, walked slowly to his chair, and
opened his book again.
"Take it home with you to-night," said he, continuing his talk to
the primer class. "Spell it over, so you won't have to stop long
between words. All who read it well to-morrow will get another
chapter."
They began to study at home. Wonder grew, and pleasure came with
labour as the tale went on.
He dismissed the primer readers, calling the first class in
geography. As they took their places he repaired the broken seat,
a part of which had been torn off the nails. The fallen rebel
stood leaning, his back to the school. He had expected help, but
the reserve force had failed him.
"Joe Beach--you may take your seat," said the teacher, in a kind of
parenthetical tone.
"Geography starts at home," he continued, beginning the recitation.
"Who can tell me where is the Linley schoolhouse?"
A dozen hands went up.
"You tell," said he to one.
"It's here," was the answer.
"Where's here?"
A boy looked thoughtful.
"Nex' t' Joe Linley's cow-pastur'," he ventured presently,
"Will you tell us?" the teacher asked, looking at a bright-eyed
girl.


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