it was five o'clock in the morning on one of the last days of august. this was no legally-sanctioned swedish moving-day, and yet it was plain that with somebody a change of residence was in progress.
before a low house on a winding "cobble-stone" paved street two long, narrow wagons were standing. their horses faced in different directions, though in all other respects the two establishments were, even to their loading, like a pair of twins. in each was the furniture for one simple room, a sofa-bed being the striking article in the inventory. a carefully-packed basket of china, a few primitive cooking utensils, and some boxes and packages indicated, if not good cheer, at least something to keep soul and body together.
the outer door of the house was locked at last,[pg 20] and the key had been handed to a humble woman, who courtesied and took it as a matter of form; though both parties knew that she would soon be opening that door and coming into lawful possession of all the effects, remnants, and refuse left on the premises, and would be sure to hand that house over to the landlord in a superlatively clean and tidy condition.
two stout men took their places as drivers, and two passengers stood on the low steps for a few parting words. they were by no means twins. the straight, slight girl, though not tall, yet fully grown, had been the little tora, the singer of one public performance. now she had in her pocket her greatest treasure—the paper that pronounced her a fully-fledged schoolmistress; who had completed with honour the prescribed course at the seminary duly authorized for the manufacture of teachers of unimpeachable character, and all pedagogical requisites in perfection.
at tora's side stood "brother karl," just about to start for upsala university, with his arrangements complete for his bachelor housekeeping on the most simple principles.
there was no effusiveness in the parting. "keep well, karl, and don't study too hard," said the sister. "and don't have any 'food-days'; i could not bear[pg 21] that. but you must not live too low, and pull yourself down. send to me if you get to the bottom of your purse. i shall be likely to have a few coppers in mine."
"i'll warrant that, miss prudence," was his reply. "nobody but you would have managed to keep us both comfortably on what was only meant to carry you through the seminary. don't be afraid for me! i shall clear my own way. i shall teach boys in the evening, and study after they have gone to bed. i have served a good apprenticeship with the doctor's chaps these years. i understand packing lessons into youngsters to be given out in the class next day. then i am to write an article now and then for the paper here, with upsala news for the country folks. as to 'food-days,' i am not exactly of your mind. i have made arrangements for one already."
"o karl! how could you?" said tora reproachfully.
"gunner steelhammer liked well enough to take porridge with us now and then when he was teaching here. his mother has told him to invite me to dine at their house on sundays, and to call there whenever i feel like it. we are real friends, though he is a university tutor now. anybody that i would be[pg 22] willing to help i am willing to let help me. of course, i shall enjoy a good substantial dinner once a week, but i really care more to be with the family at that house. gunner is a splendid fellow, as you know, and his father draws all kinds of nice people about him, i hear. i did not dare to tell you this before, little sister; but now i have made a clean breast of it. i was half teasing about it, too. be sure, i'll work hard and live low before i shall let anybody help me. well, good-bye," and he stretched out his hand to tora, who took it hastily for a hearty shake, and then they parted.
karl was wearing his white university cap, which, with the loading of the wagon, marked him as a student on the way to upsala, and would ensure him many a friendly greeting by the way. tora had prudently covered the fresh velvet with a fair cotton cover; but the blue-and-yellow rosette was in full sight—a token of the honours he had lately won at his examination, and would be striving to win at the old centre of learning. the kind neighbours whom he had known from boyhood had added to his equipment—here a cheese, and there a pat of butter or a bag of fresh biscuits; but he did not need to open his stores by the way. now and[pg 23] again from the roadside houses kindly faces smiled on him, and homely fare was offered him by the elders; while flowers or wild berries came to his share from glad children who had been ranging the woods for treasures during these last days of their summer vacation.
as for tora, sitting in a low chair in the midst of her possessions, she went rattling over the cobble-stones, if not more proud at least more happy of heart than a conqueror of old at the head of a roman triumph. she had reached the goal towards which she had long been striving. she was now an independent worker, with a profession by which she could earn an honourable living. she was a teacher, "a teacher of the little school"—that is to say, of the school for little children. the state was her sure paymaster. if continued health were granted her, her path for the future was plain—her bread was sure.
the cobble-stones were soon passed, and over the smooth country road rumbled the clumsy vehicle, now through evergreen thickets, now through groves of bright birches, and at last out on the rolling meadows. the fences had disappeared, and but for a lone landmark here and there, the sea of green[pg 24] might have seemed the property of any strong-handed labourer who might choose to call it his own.
down an unusually steep slope the wagon passed, then across the low meadow with a bright stream threading its midst, and then there was a triumphant sweep up to the little red schoolhouse where tora was to have her abode and the sphere of her labours.
a low wooded point ran like a promontory out into the meadow, and there "the forefathers of the vale" had built the temple for the spelling-book and the slate.
on the opposite side from the meadow the schoolhouse was entered, after crossing the wide playground. where "the field for sport" ended at the road there stood a lad, evidently looking out eagerly for the arrival of the new teacher.
"that's a life-member of the little school," said the driver, with a whimsical look. "nils is not much at books, but he's a powerful singer."
the last words were spoken within the hearing of the frank-faced boy, who now pulled off his cap, and stepped up to the wagon to help tora down. she shook his hand kindly, and said, "i hear you are a singer, nils. i am glad of that, for in my certificate i got but a poor record for my singing."[pg 25]
"and 'great a' for everything else, mother said," he answered promptly, while his eyes beamed pleasantly on the new teacher, whose first friendly greeting had won his heart.
"i'll help you down with the heavy things first," said nils to the driver, "and then if you'll set the rest here, we'll take them in together later. i want to show the schoolhouse to the mistress."
the one room set apart for the home of the teacher did not look dreary as she stepped into it. the table from the schoolroom stood in the centre covered with a white cloth, its edge outlined by bright birch leaves laid on it, loosely and tastefully, like a wreath. then on a tray covered with a snowy napkin stood a shining coffee-pot, with cups for three, and a light saffron cake that might have sufficed for the whole school assembled.
"mother thought perhaps you would like a taste of something warm after your ride," said nils, as he proceeded to pour out a cup of coffee as if he were quite at home. at home he was in a way, for in that schoolhouse he had for years passed his days among the little ones, through a special permit from the school board.
tora clasped her hands, and stood silent a moment[pg 26] before she tasted the first morsel of food in her new home, and her heart sent up really grateful thoughts to her heavenly father, who had so blessed her, and would, she was sure, continue to bless her in her new surroundings.
"may i take out a cup to petter?" asked nils, while he cut the big cake into generous pieces, and offered the simple entertainment to the teacher. of course the driver did not refuse the proposed refreshment, nor did nils hesitate to help himself, while the mistress was taking her coffee and glancing round the premises.
all was fresh and clean about her. the windows had evidently been open since early morning, and the closets and shelves could well afford to be displayed through the doors more than half ajar.
"thanks, nils," said the mistress, as she took the boy's hand after the refreshment.
"thanks and welcome to the new teacher!" was the reply.
"now i shall go in and look at the schoolroom while petter and you furnish my room for me. the sofa should stand there, and the bureau there. the rest i can leave to you," said tora, as she disappeared.
nils unfolded a strip of rag carpeting and "criss[pg 27]-crossed" it round the room, whispering to himself, "mother said there were to be no footmarks left behind us."
the schoolroom was but a big, bare room—no maps on the walls, none of the modern aids for instruction, save that the space between the two windows that looked out towards the meadow had been painted, to be used as a blackboard: "a useless, new-fangled notion" the rustics had called this forward step in the way of education.
in front of the blackboard stood a wooden armchair for the teacher. the benches were low, and the desks were of the simplest sort, saving one, which was larger and higher, which the teacher at once understood was the permanent arrangement for nils. her heart went out towards the big, kind fellow, on whom so sore a trial had been laid in his youth.
along one side of the schoolroom there were four horses standing silent, but not "saddled and bridled," as in old nursery stories. without head or tail, they stood on four sprawling legs—supports for two long, "shallow boxes" that had been in the schoolroom for fifty years or more. wood was abundant in the old days, and unskilful hands had done the work; so the boxes were but clumsy specimens of carpentry, and[pg 28] deep enough, it seemed, to hold sand for all the long winter through. the grandfathers of the neighbourhood could remember when these receptacles were their writing-desks, in which, stick in hand, they were taught to trace in the smoothed sand their names or any higher efforts of chirography that the teacher might demand. these superannuated articles of furniture were now used in winter as places of deposit for the children's folded outer garments, rather than the cold vestibule. there, too, the dinner-baskets had their rightful quarters.
the room was high, as it went up to the very roof. on the rafters were stored, in cold weather, the stilts for summer, and the bundles of ropes for the swings to be fastened to the tall trees by adventurous nils, whose friendly hands delighted to send the laughing little ones flying far up into the fresh air like merry fairies. there, too, were the bows and arrows, and all other lawful things for summer sport.
the little schoolmistress took a full survey of her new kingdom, sat for a moment in her chair of state, and noticed a simple footstool put in front of it for her use, as she fancied, by that unknown "mother" who seemed to have her comfort so much at heart.
when the new mistress returned to her own private[pg 29] apartment, the furniture was all in place, the covers were taken from the boxes, and everything was ready for her personal arrangement of her property.
"the school board have had shutters put to the windows," said the driver, pointing to the late improvement. "they thought perhaps the new teacher might be afraid. this is a lonely place."
"afraid!" said the little schoolmistress, wonderingly; "i am never afraid, night or day."
the driver opened his eyes wide as he answered,—
"the last teacher was as tall as i am, and she always kept a pistol at night by her on a chair, with an apron thrown over it, so the thieves could not find it and shoot her before she had a chance at them. this little mistress must be made of different stuff.—well, good-bye, miss, and i wish you well."
tora was about to put in his hand the usual payment for his services, when he shut his broad fist expressively, and then half raised it, as he said,—
"i never took pay for a mistress's things being brought to this schoolhouse yet, and i don't mean to do it now. folks for the most part seem to like you, but i have a particular feeling. i knew your father once, and he was good to me."
the honest man could say no more just then, and[pg 30] he hurried out of the room. nils followed with his best bow, but the pleasant words reached his ears,—
"we'll meet soon again. thanks! thanks to you both.—i think we shall be real friends, nils, you and i."
that little allusion to her father, coming so suddenly, had almost made tora break down in the midst of her abounding courage. the past came up in vivid pictures where scenes of sorrow were predominant. her weak, ever-ailing little baby sister had floated quietly across the dark river. the stricken mother sank, and soon followed her child to the churchyard. the father's hand, that had first guided an editor's pen, and then in his long decline that of a mere copyist, grew weaker and weaker, and finally the last loving pressure was given to his daughter, and then that hand lay still and white. its work on earth was done, and the brother and sister were left alone. courageous and loving, they had both struggled on. her end was attained, but he was at the beginning of the steady conflict before him. how would he bear himself in the battle? if she could only know whether his surroundings would be as pleasant and homelike as her own, and his heart as full of hope and quiet trust! would he be borne safely through the[pg 31] privations and temptations of his university life? a prayer went silently up to the father of all for that absent brother, and then the practical little sister was soon deep in the stir of bringing all things to order in her new home. physical effort brought back the resolute cheerfulness so natural to the little schoolmistress, and she hummed to herself a simple song of long ago, to which she could always hear the buzzing accompaniment of that stranger who had proved to her a faithful, untiring benefactor and friend.
