“Don’t forget the satchel,” Ma said, and Laura turned back to snatch it up.
“Thank you, Ma. Good-by,” she said and went out to the cutter. Almanzo helped her in and tucked the robes around her. Prince and Lady started quickly; all the bells rang out their music, and she was on her way back to her school.
Chapter 5
A Stiff Upper Lip
All that week, everything went wrong; everything. Nothing gave Laura the least encouragement. The weather was sullen. Dull clouds lay low and flat above the gray-white prairie, and the wind blew monotonously. The cold was damp and clammy. The stoves smoked.
Mrs. Brewster let the housework go. She did not sweep out the snow that Mr. Brewster tracked in; it melted and made puddles with the ashes around the stove. She did not make their bed nor even spread it up. Twice a day she cooked potatoes and salt pork and put them on the table. The rest of the time she sat brooding. She did not even comb her hair, and it seemed to Laura that Johnny squalled with temper that whole week.
Once Laura tried to play with him, but he only struck at her and Mrs. Brewster said angrily, “Leave him alone!”
After supper he went to sleep on his father’s knee, and Mr. Brewster just sat. The air seemed to smolder with Mrs. Brewster’s silence, and he sat, Laura thought, like a bump on a log. She had heard that said, but she had not realized what it meant. A bump on a log does not fight anyone, but it cannot be budged.
The silence was so loud that Laura could hardly study. When she went to bed, Mrs. Brewster quarreled at Mr. Brewster. She wanted to go back east.
Laura could hardly have studied well, anyway; she was so worried about her school. In spite of all she could do, everything went from bad to worse.
It began on Monday, when Tommy did not know one word of his spelling lesson. Ruby would not let him have the speller, he said.
“Why, Ruby!” Laura said in surprise. Then sweet little Ruby turned into a very spitfire. Laura was so startled that before she could stop them, Ruby and Tommy were quarreling.
Sternly Laura stopped that. She went to Tommy’s seat and gave him the speller. “Now learn that lesson,” said she. “You may stay in at recess and recite it to me.”
Next day, Ruby did not know her lesson. She stood before Laura with her hands behind her, innocent as a kitten, and said, “I could not learn it, Teacher. You gave Tommy the speller.”
Laura remembered to count ten. Then she said, “So I did. Well, you and Tommy may sit together to learn your spelling.”
They were not studying the same lessons in the book, but they could hold it open in two places. Leaning to one side, Tommy could study his lesson while Ruby, leaning to the other side, could study hers. In that way, Laura and Mary used to learn their different lessons in Ma’s speller.
But Tommy and Ruby did not. They sat silently struggling, each to open the book wider at his place. Again and again Laura said sharply, “Tommy! Ruby!” But neither of them learned their spelling well.
Martha could not work her arithmetic problems. Charles sat idly staring at the window, where nothing was to be seen but the gray weather. When Laura told him to keep his eyes on his lessons, he stared daydreaming at a page. Laura knew he was not seeing it.
She was too little. When Martha and Charles and Clarence stood before her to recite, they were too much for her. Though she did her best, she could not interest them in learning even geography and history.
On Monday, Clarence knew part of his history lesson, but when Laura asked him when the first settlement was made in Virginia, he answered carelessly, “Oh, I didn’t study that part.”
“Why didn’t you?” Laura asked.
“The lesson was too long,” Clarence re
plied, with a look from narrow, laughing eyes that said, “What are you going to do about that?”
Laura was furiously angry, but as her eyes met his she knew that he expected her to be angry. What could she do? She could not punish him; he was too big. She must not show any anger.
So she kept quiet, while she turned the pages of the history consideringly. Her heart was faint, but she must not let him know that. Finally she said, “It is too bad that you did not learn this. It will make your next lesson so much longer, for we must not keep Charles and Martha back.”
She went on hearing Charles and Martha recite the lesson. Then she gave them all another lesson of the usual length.
The next day Clarence did not know his history at all. “It’s no use trying to learn such long lessons,” he said.
“If you do not want to learn, Clarence, you are the loser,” Laura told him. She kept on asking him questions in his turn, hoping that he would grow ashamed of answering, “I don’t know.” But he did not.
Every day she felt more miserably that she was failing. She could not teach school. Her first school would be a failure; she would not be able to get another certificate. She would earn no more money. Mary would have to leave college, and that would be Laura’s fault. She could hardly learn her own lessons, though she studied them not only at night, but at noon and recess. When she went back to town, she would be behind her class.
All the trouble came from Clarence. He could make Ruby and Tommy behave, if he would; he was their older brother. He could learn his lessons; he was much smarter than Martha and Charles. How she wished that she were big enough to give Clarence the whipping he deserved.