Under the stimulus of his quiet confidence, the order was excellent that first day. The school needed organization, and much time was spent in showing the pupils economical ways of doing things. While the novelty lasted there was no tendency to disorder, and when things settled down into a regular routine the lessons proved so interesting under Mr. Thomberg’s teaching that the boys forgot for a time to have fun in the old way. A fancy skating club had been organized; a new era seemed to have dawned, when one day, quite unexpectedly, the old problem popped up again. A row of pupils, coming quietly forward to the recitation bench, found themselves stepping on a number of match-heads which had been scattered in the aisle. At the same moment Mr. Thomberg himself, who had stepped to a window to adjust a shade, exploded two of these little trouble-makers. Every one looked up in surprise, for bad order had been almost forgotten. The teacher went to his desk. Very quietly he sent the class back to their seats. Then he told the pupils to put away all books, and they obeyed in a dazed way, afraid of they knew not what. “I told you when I came,” said Mr. Thomberg, “that we couldn’t have anything but a good school. The reason that we can’t afford to have bad order is that we have too much serious work to do. I had begun to like you all so much that I’m sorry some one has had to spoil our pleasant beginning. But I meant what I said. So this school is closed, now, indefinitely. You are all, without exception, suspended from school until further notice. You will pass out as you always do.” There was a breathless silence. Such a thing as suspending a whole school had never been heard of before. Mr. Thomberg gave the usual signals, and the boys and girls passed into the hall as though they had been at a funeral. Mr. Thomberg went to the nearest house and called the directors by telephone for a conference, which was scarcely begun when parents began to inquire indignantly why their children, guiltless of dropping match-heads, had been suspended from school. Mr. Thomberg dictated the answer: “Tell them,” he said, “that I have no time to ferret out the doers of silly little tricks in my school. When the school gives me the assurance that there’ll be no more trouble, then we’ll go back to work. Whoever dropped those match-heads thought the school liked that sort of thing, and you must show him that he is mistaken. I am a teacher, not a policeman.” The parents really wanted their children in school, and guided by the suggestion, skillfully made by the teacher, they took steps to secure the concerted action which Mr. Thomberg knew was the remedy for the evil. He was reading the daily paper in the living room of his boarding house that evening, when the response for which he had planned came. There were seventeen of his twenty-six pupils in the party which called on him. One of the older boys, Felix Curry, was spokesman.