When the board was seated magisterially, their wives came in and found seats at the back of the room, behind the children. The pupils squirmed uneasily. They felt that they were surrounded, that escape, should they need to escape, was cut off. When they twisted in their seats, they saw that the women were smiling benevolently on them. They caught sight of a large paper bundle which Mrs. Munroe held on her lap.
School opened. Miss Morgan, with a strained smile on her face, welcomed the school board. “We will do nothing out of the ordinary, gentlemen,” she said. “I think it will be more interesting to you in your official capacities, to see the school as it operates every day.” Very little later, she wished she hadn’t said that. Never within her recollection, had she seen such stupid children. Those who did manage to force words past their frozen palates, made the most hideous mistakes. Their spelling was abominable. Their reading sounded like the gibbering of the insane. The board tried to be dignified, but they could not help smiling a little from embarrassment for the children. A light perspiration formed on Miss Morgan’s forehead. She had visions of being dismissed from her position by an outraged board. The wives in the rear smiled on, nervously, and time dripped by. When the arithmetic had been muddled and travestied, John Whiteside arose from his chair.
“Thank you, Miss Morgan,” he said. “If you’ll allow it, I’ll just say a few words to the children, and then you can dismiss them. They ought to have some payment for having us here.”
The teacher sighed with relief. “Then you do understand they weren’t doing as well as usual? I’m glad you know that.”
John Whiteside smiled. He had seen so many nervous young teachers on school board days. “If I thought they were doing their best, I’d close the school,” he said. Then he spoke to the children for five minutes—told them they should study hard and love their teacher. It was the short and painless little speech he had used for years. The older pupils had heard of it often. When it was done, he asked the teacher to dismiss the school. The pupils filed quietly out, but, once in the air, their relief was too much for them. With howls and shrieks they did their best to kill each other by disembowelment and decapitation.
John Whiteside shook hands with Miss Morgan. We’ve never had a teacher who kept better order,” he said kindly. “I think if you knew how much the children like you, you’d be embarrassed.”
“But they’re good children,” she insisted loyally. “They’re awfully good children.”
“Of course,” John Whiteside agreed. “By the way, how is the little Maltby boy getting along?”
“Why, he’s a bright youngster, a curious child. I think he has almost a brilliant mind.”
“We’ve been talking about him in board meeting, Miss Morgan. You know, of course, that his home life isn’t all that it ought to be. I noticed him this afternoon especially. The poor child’s hardly clothed.”
“Well, it’s a strange home.” Miss Morgan felt that she had to defend Junius. “It’s not the usual kind of home, but it isn’t bad.”
“Don’t mistake me, Miss Morgan. We aren’t going to interfere. We just thought we ought to give him a few things. His father’s very poor, you know.”
“I know,” she said gently.
“Mrs. Munroe bought him a few clothes. If you’ll call him in, we’ll give them to him.”
“Oh. No, I wouldn’t—” she began.
“Why not? We only have a few little shirts and a pair of overalls and some shoes.”
“But Mr. Whiteside, it might embarrass him. He’s quite a proud little chap.”
“Embarrass him to have decent clothes? Nonsense! I should think it would embarrass him more not to have them. But aside from that, it’s too cold for him to go barefoot at this time of year. There’s been a frost on the ground every morning for a week.”
“I wish you wouldn’t,” she said helplessly. “I really wish you wouldn’t do it.”
“Miss Morgan, don’t you think you’re making too much of this? Mrs. Munroe has been kind enough to buy the things for him. Please call him in so she can give them to him.”
A moment later Robbie stood before them. His unkempt hair fell over his face, and his eyes still glittered with the fierceness of the play in the yard. The group gathered at the front of the room regarded him kindly, trying not to look too pointedly at his ragged clothes. Robbie gazed uneasily about.
“Mrs. Munroe has something to give you, Robert,” Miss Morgan said.
Then Mrs. Munroe came forward and put the bundle in his arms. “What a nice little boy!”
Robbie placed the package carefully on the floor and put his hands behind him.
“Open it, Robert,” T. B. Allen said sternly. “Where are your manners?”
Robbie gazed resentfully at him. “Yes, sir,” he said, and untied the string. The shirts and the new overalls lay open before him, and he stared at them uncomprehendingly. Suddenly he seemed to realize what they were. His face flushed warmly. For a moment he looked about nervously like a trapped animal, and then he bolted through the door, leaving the little heap of clothing behind him. The school board heard two steps on the porch, and Robbie was gone.
Mrs. Munroe turned helplessly to the teacher. “What’s wrong with him, anyway?”
“I think he was embarrassed,” said Miss Morgan.
“But why should he be? We were nice to him.”
The teacher tried to explain, and became a little angry with them in trying. “I think, you see—why, I don’t think he ever knew he was poor until a moment ago.”
“It was my mistake,” John Whiteside apologized. “I’m sorry, Miss Morgan.”
“What can we do about him?” Bert Munroe asked.
“I don’t know. I really don’t know.”
Mrs. Munroe turned to her husband. “Bert, I think if you went out and had a talk with Mr. Maltby it might help. I don’t mean you to be anything but kind. Just tell him little boys shouldn’t walk around in bare feet in the frost. Maybe just a word like that’ll help. Mr. Maltby could tell little Robert he must take the clothes. What do you think, Mr. Whiteside?”
“I don’t like it. You’ll have to vote to overrule my objection. I’ve done enough harm.”
“I think his health is more important than his feelings,” Mrs. Munroe insisted.
School closed for Christmas week on the twentieth of December. Miss Morgan planned to spend her vacation in Los Angeles. While she waited at the crossroads for a bus to Salinas, she saw a man and a little boy walking down the Pastures of Heaven road toward her. They were dressed in cheap new clothes, and both of them walked as though their feet were sore. As they neared her, Miss Morgan looked closely at the little boy, and saw that it was Robbie. His face was sullen and unhappy.
“Why, Robert,” she cried. “What’s the matter? Where are you going?”
The man spoke. “We’re going to San Francisco, Miss Morgan.”
She looked up quickly. It was Junius shorn of his beard. She hadn’t realized that he was so old. Even his eyes, which had been young, looked old. But of course he was pale because the beard had protected his skin from sunburn. On his face there was a look of deep puzzlement.
“Are you going up for the Holidays?” Miss Morgan asked. “I love the stores in the city around Christmas. I could look in them for days.”
“No,” Junius replied slowly. “I guess we’re going to be up there for good. I am an accountant, Miss Morgan. At least I was an accountant twenty years ago. I’m going to try to get a job.” There was pain in his voice.
“But why do you do that?” she demanded.
“You see,” he explained simply. “I didn’t know I was doing an injury to the boy, here. I hadn’t thought about it. I suppose I should have thought about it. You can see that he shouldn’t be brought up in poverty. You can see that, can’t you? I didn’t know what people were saying about us.”
“Why don’t you stay on the ranch? It’s a good ranch, isn’t it?”
“But I couldn’t make a living on it, Miss Morgan. I don’t know anything about farming. Jakob is going to try to run the ranch, but you know, Jakob is very lazy. Later, when I can, I’ll sell the ranch so Robbie can have a few things he never had.”
Miss Morgan was angry, but at the same time she felt she was going to cry. “You don’t believe everything silly people tell you, do you?”
He looked at her in surprise. “Of course not. But you can see for yourself that a growing boy shouldn’t be brought up like a little animal, can’t you?”