File:St. Nicholas (serial) (1873) (14778935122).jpg

Identifier: stnicholasserial271dodg (find matches)
Title: St. Nicholas (serial)
Year: 1873 (1870s)
Authors: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Subjects: Children's literature
Publisher: (New York : Scribner & Co.)
Contributing Library: Information and Library Science Library, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill
Digitizing Sponsor: University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill

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oes. Onthis afternoon his cheeks were as red as awinter apple, or as his mittens that dangledloosely from the string around his neck. Hestood like a stump-speaker on a log of woodwhich made him at least four inches taller thanhis fellows. Johnny had been so quiet and sosolemn all day that it had affected his com-panions, and, as Peter Marel said, they all knewsomething big was up. Johnny was notsufficiently versed. in the rules of oratoricalspeaking to work up to a climax. With hisheart on his lips, he revealed the core of hisdiscourse at once; boylike and childlike, hewent straight to the point. Look here, he said earnestly. MasterWimbledon s going to leave White Meadows! Silence for a second, then an outburst of Oh, no, he is nt! Why, Johnny Lane, Idont believe it. What for ? etc. Who told you so, Johnny Lane ? askedMilly, who was as near the speaker as theetiquette of stump-speaking permitted. He did, said Johnny, withering her with WHY THE SCHOOLMASTER FORGOT TO BRUSH HIS HAIR. 57
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WELL, STAMMERED THE BOY, IT S YOUR HAIR, SIR — OH, IT S SO FUNNY this unexpected answer. At least, he said, mistake. I gave it to him to-day, and I made I am afraid I shall have to leave my school. a copy of it, and learned it by heart for all of Then he gave me back a paper to read; he you,cause Ive got a plan. And here Johnny thought it was my composition on the training recited in his best school-speaker voice the of a tame squirrel, but it was nt; he made a Board of Directors letter to Mr. Wimbledon. 5§ WHY THE SCHOOLMASTER FORGOT TO BRUSH HIS HAIR. (Nov. He paused for breath and to await the effectof the letter upon his hearers. Well, I never ! said Milly. Mean old thing! said her best friend, apretty little girl with snappy black eyes. The boys were less sparing, and the honor-able Board was summarily disposed of by thisfrank assembly. Mr. Wimbledon shant go; there, now! Iguess we remember Master Plumbier, whowanted to ferrule even the girls, said Milly,looking around at her

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