The Undoing of David Lemwell [pp. 206-213]

The iiUndoizg of David Leitwell.
to the same gray tones as the unpainted
boards of the house. She was alone,
and their talk was uninterrupted.
Dave's sister stated the case, and concluded: -
"An' now I want ye to promise me
ye won't teach no school tomorrow. Ye
can tell'em yer sick er somethin', an'
may be by that time Dad'11 ferget. Ef
he don't, I want ye to stay sick! He'd
just kill Dave ef he knowed he tole that
lie."
"And who is going to teach school
while I am ill?" asked the teacher.
She smiled up into the rough, anxious
face of Dave's sister, who felt a sensation of helplessness stealing over her,
which was much the same as Dave had
felt when he yielded to the power of
mind. This girl was used to the force
of man, but not to the stubbornness of
woman.
The teacher leaned forward, and took
in her own small cool ones the large red
hands. "You don't understand, Miss
Lemwell. Indeed, you do your father
injustice. He could n't strike a woman.
He may talk that way,- he may even
think that way; but he would n't really
do it. You see there is where we have
the advantage. No matter what we do,
-we women,- no one will ever strike
us back. He will probably come to the
school house tomorrow and talk to me,
- tell me things I don't know,- but he
will not hurt me; you need not be
afraid."
"You don't know Dad," said the girl
helplessly. She was wondering where
the advantage of being a woman came
in. She had never had the right to
wound and not expect hurt in return.
The teacher laughed. If the laugh
was forced, her audience was not critical. "Now my dear, you must go home
and go to sleep. You are tired. Tomorrow you will see things differently."
Her assumption of protecting patronage was comical in the extreme. It was
as if a tom-tit should address a buzzard
with words of advice. But when she
was alone, her bravery vanished. She
went to her room, and throwing herself
on the bed, had a good long nervous
cry. What a relief it was! At last she
enthroned herself on the edge of the
bed, and looked herself honestly in the
face. "I am afraid,-I am afraid;-and
I won't pretend I am not," she said;
and even this small return to nature
made her look five years younger. "I
never - never- never can bear the indignity- I can't bear the pain!" She
drew up her knees, tipped over on the
bed again, and sobbed once more, like
the poor, suppressed child she was.
Then she got up, washed her face,
brushed her hair, and thought out her
course of action; the result of which
was the blue dress, the soft curls, the
dainty bloom, and the brightness as of
spring.
She must have been possessed of considerable acumen in spite of her long
apprenticeship to her enervating trade.
The power of mind was all very well
with David, Jr., but David, Sr., was a
different person altogether, and the
power of matter was to be tried upon
him. Well,-she was a woman, and deserved some compensations.
Again a bee droned through the quiet
school-room, as if to herald another
step that struck harshly, heavily, upon
the sandy soil. The fibers of the
cracker-box gave a protesting creak, and
again the open door became a frame.
Tommy Tuttle, who was reading the
harrowing tale about the cat that got
in the well, stopped in the middle of a
monosyllable (which was possible when
pronounced as Tommy pronounced:
"c-aa-t"), and stared at the picture.
Then a smile of sweet content spread
itself over his face and he sat down,
divining that there would be no more
reading for a time.
The object of interest advanced between the rows of desks and announced
himself. "I'm Dave Lemwell, an' I
210
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ZD