Miss Lee stood by her desk as Phœbe and the two boys entered. It was still that delightful period, before-school, when laughter could be released and voices raised without a fear of "keep quiet." The children moved to the teacher's desk as though drawn by magnetic force. Mary Warner, her dark curls hanging over her shoulders, appeared already acquainted with her. Several tiny beginners stood near the desk, a few older scholars were bravely offering their services to fetch water from Eby's "whenever it's all or you want some fresh," or else stay and clap the erasers clean. When the second tug at the bell-rope gave the final call for the opening of school there was an air of gladness in the room. The new teacher possessed enough of the elusive "something" the country children felt belonged to a teacher from a big city like Philadelphia. The way she conducted the opening exercises, led the singing, and then proceeded with the business of arranging classes and assigning lessons served to intensify the first feelings of satisfaction. When recess came the children ran outdoors, ostensibly to play, but rather to gather into little groups and discuss the merits of the new teacher. The general verdict was, "She's all right." "Ain't she all right?" David Eby asked Phœbe as they stood in the brown grasses near the school porch. "Ach, don't ask me that so often!" "But honest now, Phœbe, don't you like her?" "I don't know." "When will you know?" "I don't know," came the tantalizing answer. "Ach, sometimes, Phœbe, you make me mad! You act dumb just like the other girls sometimes." "Then keep away from me if you don't like me," she retorted. "Sassbox!" said the boy and walked away from her. The little tilt with David did not improve the girl's humor. She entered the schoolroom with a sulky look on her face, her blue eyes dark and stormy. Accordingly, when Mary Warner shook her enviable curls and leaned forward to whisper ecstatically, "Phœbe, don't you just love the new teacher?" Phœbe replied very decidedly, "I do not! I don't like her at all!" For a moment Mary held her breath, then a surprised "Oh!" came from her lips and she raised her hand and waved it frantically to attract the teacher's attention. "What is it, Mary?" "Why, Miss Lee, Phœbe Metz says she don't like you at all!" "Did she ask you to tell me?" A faint flush crept into the face of the teacher. "No--but----" "Then that will do, Mary." But Phœbe Metz did not dismiss the matter so easily. She turned in her seat and gave one of Mary's obnoxious curls a vigorous yank. "Tattle-tale!" she hurled out madly. "Big tattle-tale!" "Yank 'em again," whispered David, seated a few seats behind the girls, but Phares called out a soft, "Phœbe, stop that."