Love's Enduring Promise (Love Comes Softly Series #2) (10 page)

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this one looked terribly out of place. Not only was he short, but very small of build and bone, and his sleeve size did not seem to have to expand one bit for his biceps from that which covered the slim wrist. What he lacked in size he seemed to endeavor to compensate with mustache. Though carefully tended and waxed on the ends, the furry appendage nearly hid the lower half of his face and stuck out beyond his face like handles on a walking plow.

His vest was a bright plaid material and he wore white spats. A bowler hat topped his small cocky head, and he spent a good deal of his time reaching for it, dusting it and then replacing it again.

Marty noted his eyes with approval. They looked both intelligent and just a trifle humorous.

Clark was to chair the meeting and he gave his welcome to Mr. Wilbur Whittle in a most courteous fashion. The people responded with applause. Clark then introduced the neighborhood families, having them stand together so that each family could be properly introduced and recognized. Mr. Whittle nodded at each one, but remained silent.

After all had been presented, the new teacher was given the floor. Marty expected to hear a small voice that would suit the small man, but was surprised when a deep bass voice emerged.

"Why, he musta practiced fer years to be able to do thet," she thought.

In spite of the deepness, Mr. Whittle's voice was not loud, and those listening had to strain to hear his words.

He expressed his pleasure at being selected to be the instructor in their school.

"Ya were all we could git," thought Marty.

He was charmed with the fine boarding place they had so thoughtfully provided.

"An' she was the only one with room," Marty admitted. He was gratified to behold the fine facilities and careful selection of instructional aids.

Marty wasn't sure just what he was referring to, so let that pass.

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He was looking forward to an amicable relationship with each one in the community, adult and child alike. He would look forward to further acquaintance, for he knew that it would be both stimulating and intellectually rewarding.

Classes would begin on the Monday next at nine o'clock sharp, the bell employed at five minutes of the hour. Each child was to be seated and ready to commence the opening exercises on the hour. No tardiness would be accepted. Two breaks of fifteen minutes each would be given during the day, and an hour at midday to allow for the partaking of the noon meal and a time of physical stimulation for the students. Classes would end at three o'clock p.m. each day.

The children would get the benefit of his undivided attention and unsurpassed education, he having been trained in one of the country's foremost institutions, recognized universally for its top-quality professors and its comprehensive and exhaustive courses.

He continued on for a few minutes more, but Marty's attention was diverted by Mrs. Vickers who leaned toward Mrs. Stern and whispered, rather loudly, "I hope he means he still 'tends to teach."

Mrs. Stern assured her that he did.

The meeting finally ended with the community crowd giving the teacher a loud round of applause, and he beaming on the group, withdrew, doffing his bowler hat.

Coffee and cake were served and visiting with the neighbors resumed. Clark sought out Marty to meet the new neighbors on the Larson place. She was happy to do so and excused herself from the ladies with whom she had been chatting.

The LaHayes seemed a nice couple. Mrs. LaHaye still looked thin and drawn but assured Marty that she was feeling much better and was sure that she'd soon be on her feet again. Arrangements were made for the LaHayes to join the Davises for Sunday dinner.

Mr. LaHaye was disappointed that his journey west was cut short of purpose, but was farmer enough to see the possibility of Jedd Larson's good farmland. He had plans for replacing the farmhouse and buildings, which had already undergone

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some much-needed repairs.

Tessie, their only girl, was plain but pleasant. Marty took to her immediately. Nathan, the older boy, was rather outspoken for a boy of his age. He appeared to feel smugly confident about his own wit and ability. The younger boy, Willie, had a sparkle in his brown eyes that endeared him to Marty, and at the same time warned her. No telling what this youngster would think to try.

"How old are ya, Willie?" Marty asked.

"Nine," he responded, good-naturedly. "I been in school before. Took three grades already."

Marty was wondering if he was thinking that that put him in a class by himself, for it was a well-known fact that none of the children in the area had as yet had any formal education.

"Guess ya'll be able to help the kids here quite a bit then," Marty said and watched carefully for Willie's reaction.

"Some of 'em," he said carelessly. "If I want to. Some--" he hesitated. "I might help her," he said with a grin, pointing a finger.

Marty followed the pointed index finger and noted with a bit of alarm that the "her" on the other end was none other than Missie.

"Don't expect she'll need more help than the teacher can give," she said. "She's just startin' first grade, an' she already knows her letters and numbers."

Willie shrugged again and continued to grin. "Might help her enyway," he said; then he was off on a run to rejoin the other children.

Marty turned back to the adult conversation at hand. The LaHayes were leaving early. He had much to do. Shouldn't really have taken the time off, but his wife fussed about gettin' the boys in school. Well, they'd better git on home. He had a pasture to fence to supply his cattle with better grazin'. Glad to make acquaintance. They'd look forward to Sunday dinner--and they were gone.

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Chapter 16

School Begins

Monday morning, instead of being bright and sunny as had been ordered, dawned overcast and showery. Missie despaired as she looked out of the window.

"My new blue dress will get all wet," she wailed. "An' so will my brand new hair ribbons."

Clark came to the rescue by offering to hitch up the team to drive the girls to school. This idea met with unanimous approval, and Missie's cheerful disposition returned even if the sun did not shine.

Marty carefully packed lunches and supervised the combing of hair and cleaning of fingernails. She didn't know who felt the most excitement, but was almost sure that it was a close race between Missie and herself.

Clark decided that Clare and Arnie should go along for the ride in spite of the drizzly day.

"They won't melt," he said, "an' it will be good fer 'em to feel a part of the action."

The breakfast prayer that morning included the three new scholars--that they would study well, show their teacher due respect, and use what they would learn for the bettering of self and all mankind.

After the meal was over the excited group left the house, and Clark bundled the girls in the wagon to keep the rain off

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their new clothes. Clare and Arnie, feeling proud and important, took their places beside Clark on the wagon seat. Marty felt a thickness in her throat as she watched the eager faces, taking particular note of Missie's shining eyes. And they were off.

"First school, then marriage, an' gone fer good," she said softly. " 'Fore we know it, they'll all be gone--one by one."

She brushed the tears from her eyes and turned back to the dishes. Soon Clark would return with Clare and Arnie, and all the work of their care and entertainment would fall on her now that the girls were away. She must hurry through her morning tasks in order to be ready to spend much of this rainy day amusing two restless little boys.

The boys returned and Clark brought them in. Marty changed them into dry clothes and made suggestions as to what they might like to do. She had thought herself prepared for what was in store but found that it was even worse than what she had imagined.

Arnie fussed and refused to be pacified with toys. Clare insisted that he should be able to go to school, too. When Marty failed to be convinced, he plagued her to let him go out to play. She pointed out the window at the crying sky, but Clare only whined and seemed to imply that Marty could do something about the weather if she would just put her mind to it.

Marty gave them each a cookie. Arnie shared his with Miss Puss and immediately undid all of his kindness by deliberately pulling the kitten's tail. She responded by scratching his hand. Arnie's howl brought Clare on the run. He chased the cat behind the kitchen stove and proceeded to poke at her with the broom handle. Marty sent Clare to sit on a chair and washed and cared for the scratches on Arnie's hand.

By mid-morning the clouds cleared away and the sun returned. Marty was glad to give in to Clare's coaxing to go outside. She was afraid that he would stay out only long enough to get thoroughly wet, but even that would give her some measure of respite.

As she suspected, the puddles drew Clare like a magnet, but he played in them only long enough to become wet and muddy

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and then returned to the door complaining that there was nothing to do. Marty despaired as she cleaned him up. What would she ever do with them through this long, long day?

Noon finally arrived and Clark came in for lunch. The boys squealed with delight and Marty heaved a sigh of relief. At least here was a little release, and after the meal she could tuck them in for a nap.

But the nap-time didn't go well either. Arnie fussed and fretted--unusual for him--and Clare never did go to sleep.

The seemingly endless day finally righted itself when the three girls came home. Arnie ran to Nandry with a glad cry, and Clare began questioning Missie to see if she had really learned anything. Clae stood by smiling demurely as though she had some great secret.

Marty had to force herself into the circle to be seen and heard.

"How'd it go?"

"Oh, Mama," cried Missie, "it's jest so great! Guess what I learned--jest guess. Here I'll show ya."

"I want to see," said Marty, "an' I can hardly wait, but first how 'bout ya all change yer school dresses an' hang 'em up nice."

The girls went to comply.

The time following was spent telling of the day's many activities. Only Nandry had nothing to say. Missie babbled on and on about the teacher, the other kids, the new work, her desk, and the poor fire in the pot-bellied stove.

"Know what? I don't think Mr. Whittle ever built a fire afore. From now on Silas Stern is gonna build it. It smoked awful."

"I like Mary Lou Coffins. She's my favorite friend--'cept fer Faith Graham."

The Coffins were new to the area.

Missie continued, a twinkle in her eye.

"Guess what?" she said in a whisper. "Nathan LaHaye likes Clae."

Clae blushed and protested.

"He does too," declared Missie; "he pulled her braids an' everythin'."

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Marty had no idea what the everythin' might be.

Then Missie's eyes took on fire. "But I hate thet Willie LaHaye. He's a show-off."

"Missie--shame on ya," admonished Marty. "We are not to hate anyone."

"Bet God didn't know 'bout Willie LaHaye when He made thet rule," Missie declared with venom.
"Nobody
could love him."

"What did he do thet was so terrible?"

"He reads--he reads real loud--he reads everythin'--even the eighth primer. He thinks he's smart. An' he teases too. He said thet I'm too cute to be dumb. He said he'd help me. I said, 'No, you won't, an' he jest laughed an' said, 'Wait an' see.' Boy, he thinks he's smart. I wish my Tommie were there."

Missie tossed her head in such a fashion that Marty wondered where her little girl had so suddenly gone, to be replaced by this arrogant creature who deemed herself a young lady.

"Please," thought Marty, "don't let school change her thet much--thet fast," but the next moment the little girl was back again.

"Can I lick thet dish, Mama? I got so hungry today, an' guess what, Mama? Mary Lou has a shiny red pail to carry her lunch in. Could I have one too, Mama? It has a handle on it to carry it by and the letters on it are white."

"What kinda pail is it?"

"I don't know yet. I don't know the words, but it's so pretty, isn't it, Clae?"

Clae agreed that it was.

"Could I git one, Mama, please?" coaxed Missie.

"I don't know dear; we'll have to see." Marty was noncommittal.

"I don't like carryin' my lunch in thet old thing," pouted Missie. "Mary Lou's is lots nicer."

"We'll see," was as far as Marty would go.

The subject of school was dropped for the moment, but Missie picked it up again after supper when she had her father's attention.

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"An' Mary Lou has a shiny red pail fer her lunch--with white letters an' a handle. Could I have one too, Pa, please?"

"Are shiny red lunch pails necessary fer learnin'?" Clark asked.

"Not fer learnin'--fer lookin' nice," Missie said with determination.

At least she's honest, thought Marty.

"We'll see," said her pa.

"Thet's what Mama said," Missie objected.

"Ya have a wise Mama," Clark told her, not at all moved by her cajoling.

Missie wrinkled her nose but said no more. She knew when she had reached her limit. She'd let the matter drop for the present.