CHAPTER XXIV AND COLLEGE NEXT It was the third May that Rose had been in Farmdale. The turf on the open green was emerald velvet, the orchards were drifts of pink and white, the lilacs by Mrs. Blossom’s gate were lifting spikes of lavender, and shrubs and roses were heavy with the weight of bud or bloom. In a swift rush Rose came down the walk, the white gate clashed behind her, and she dashed into the house, rosy and breathless with haste, waving a long envelope over her head. “What do you think that is?” she cried. Miss Silence glanced up from her sewing machine. “It looks to me like an envelope.” “And what do you think is inside it?” pursued Rose. “A letter is usually inside an envelope,” answered Mrs. Patience. “You won’t guess,” pouted Rose, “so I shall have to tell you, for I couldn’t possibly keep it. This is my certificate that I have passed the teachers’ examination I went to last week, and am duly qualified to teach. Wish me joy!” “But I thought thee went to the examination simply for the practice,” said Grandmother Sweet. “So I did. But all the same I wanted to pass, and was so afraid I wouldn’t pass. That’s why I didn’t say more about it. And now that I have a really, truly certificate to teach! I’m sure I’ve grown an inch since I took it out of the post-office.” “We are very glad you succeeded,” and Mrs. Patience held off a hat to see if the bunch of flowers was in the right place. “And that isn’t all,” Rose went on blithely. “You need sixteen points to graduate from the high school, I have fourteen already, because I’ve taken extra studies; to pass the teachers’ examination counts two points, so now I can graduate this year.” “But why do you want to graduate this year? I supposed of course you were going one more,” and Silence looked her surprise. “I want to get to teaching. I’m just crazy to begin.” “Rose, Rose,” Mrs. Blossom in the next room had heard the conversation, and now stepped to the doorway, “you are too young to think of teaching; even if you are qualified you have not the self-control a teacher needs.” “Oh, don’t say that!” groaned Rose, “when I have struggled with my temper, and prayed over it, and counted a hundred before I spoke, and bitten my tongue till it bled, and did all the things I ever heard of to hold on to myself.” “And you have done very well,” commended Mrs. Blossom. “You have overcome much, and learned some hard lessons in the bridling of your quick tongue, and holding in check your temper. But you have still more to learn, especially if you are going to teach. I know, for I was a teacher myself, and while text-books and methods change, boys and girls, as far as I can see, remain about the same.” “All I ask is the chance to try some boys and girls.” “Besides,” Mrs. Blossom’s voice was calmly even, “I do not think you can teach, that any school board would hire a girl of seventeen.” “But I know people who have taught when no older than that,” persisted Rose.