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Kilmeny of the Orchard

Chapter 3 THE MASTER OF LINDSAY SCHOOL

Word Count: 1521    |    Released on: 29/11/2017

ay, and locked the door-which was carved over with initials innumerable, and built of double pla

had stayed to solve some algebra problems, and corr

e nibbling the lush grass in a far corner of the play-ground; a cow-bell, somewhere in the maple woods, tinkled faintly and musically, on the still crystal air, which, in spite of its bl

a shrug of his shoulders, as he stood in the worn steps and gazed about him. How was he

indsay district school is distinctly NOT exhilarating-at least in such a well-behaved school as this, where the pupils are so painfully good that I haven't even the traditional excitement of thrashing obstreperous bad boys. Everything seems to go by clock work in Lindsay educational institution. Larry must certainly have possessed a marked gift for organizing and drilling. I f

d John Reid, a sober, matter-of-fact little urchin, with not the slightest embryonic development of a sense of humour, had, acting upon the whispered suggestion of a roguish desk-mate, elected to

y edge of the road on either side, but beyond them were emerald fields basking in sunshine, over which cloud shadows rolled, broadened, and vanished. Far below the fields a

ed and called out cheerily, "Howdy, Master?" A young girl, with a rosy, oval face, dimpled cheeks, and pretty dark eyes fill

iver was a woman: she appeared to be one of those drab-tinted individuals who can never have felt a rosy emotion in all

e new Master, ain

itted th

offering him a hand in a much darned

ways told him every time I laid eyes on him that he was in consumption, if ever a man was. YOU look real healthy-though you can't away

gone this week, but I had to keep him home to help me put the pertaters

he's got to have more larning hammered into his head yet. I reckon you'll have trouble with him, Master, for he's as stupid as an owl, and as stubborn as Solomon's mule. B

ere's any rumpus kicked up in the school, but I don't hold to that

I can," said Eric, in

heart, which had been so toughened by long endurance of poverty and toil, and a husband who wouldn't work and could

that this young ma

a man and a boy, whom he did not know. They were sitting in a shabby, old-fashioned wagon, and were w

ody, with sloping shoulders, and a lean, satiny brown throat above his open shirt collar. His head was covered with thick, silky, black curls, and the hand that hung down by the side of the wagon was unusually long and slender. His face was richly, though somewhat heavily featured, olive tinted, save for the cheeks, which had a du

ng brows. He was evidently tall, with a spare, ungainly figure, and stooping shoulders. His mouth was close-lipped and relentless, and did not look as if it had ever smiled. Indeed, the id

nd he felt quite sure that this man was no ordinary Lindsay f

gone lumbering up the hill, Eric found himself thinking of t

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