I didn’t care particularly for the room, which, in truth, was dirty and disagreeable enough, but the words “nobody took any interest this summer,” affected me unpleasantly, for in them I saw a dim foreshadowing of all that ensued. Father, who was in a hurry, soon left me, bidding me “be a good girl, and not get to _romping_ with the scholars.” From the window I watched him until he disappeared over the sandy hill, half wishing, though I would not then confess it, that I and the little trunk were with him. I was roused from my reverie by Mrs. Randall, who, for some time, had been looking inquisitively at me, and who now said, “Ain’t you but thirteen?” “No, ma’am,” I answered. “Wall,” she returned, “it beats all how much older you look. I should s’pose you was full sixteen, if not more. But it’s all in your favor, and I guess you’ll be more likely to suit the deestrict, though they’re afraid you haven’t any government, and they’re terrible hard to suit. So, if I’s you,” she continued, “I’d hold a pretty tight rein at first. I give you full liberty to whip my young ones if they don’t behave. They know better than to complain at home.” Involuntarily I glanced at the clump of alders which grew near the house, and if they were somewhat diminished ere my reign was o’er, the “Deestrict” owed it to Mrs. Randall’s suggestion. After sitting awhile, she arose to go, telling me “she should expect me at night,” and then I was alone. I looked at my watch; it was half-past eight, and not a scholar yet. This was widely different from Meadow Brook, where, by seven, the house was generally filled with children, hallooing, quarrelling over seats, and watching eagerly for the first sight of “the new schoolma’am.” Here the tables were turned, and “the schoolma’am” was watching for her scholars! Suddenly a large bumble-bee came buzzing in, and alighted on a window opposite. Like Sir Thomas the Good, in the Ingoldsby Legends, I have a passion for capturing insects, especially whitefaced bumble-bees, and now I felt strongly inclined to mount the desks in pursuit of the intruder, but the thought “What if the scholars should detect me?” prevented, and, to this day, I have never known whether that bumble-bee had a _white_ face, or belonged to the class of colored brethren! Ten minutes of nine, and I began to grow fidgety. I should have been more so, had I known how much is sometimes said about teachers not keeping their hours. Five minutes of nine, and round the corner at the foot of the hill appeared a group of children, while from another direction came others, shouting for those in advance to “wait,” which they did, and the whole entered the house together. A few of the girls made a slight obeisance, while the boys laughed, and throwing down their books in a very consequential manner, looked distrustfully at me. My _age_ had preceded me, and in many of these childish hearts there was already a spirit of rebellion.