Short stories, American; United States -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
He was, however, very seriously affronted, and had not passed his
Sunday without diligent preparation among parents and children to make
Miss Northrop's position untenable. It would have been no difficult
task, either, but for an altogether unprecedented obstacle--a factor
that he had not dreamed of in his calculations, and that Strong
himself had underestimated. The children, who had gone to school
Monday morning primed for mutiny, surrendered their hearts in a body
to Miss Northrop by night; three days later, Uncle Billy Green's
niece, who taught the primary school, gave in adoring allegiance; by
the end of the week everybody who had seen her was her advocate. It
was certainly an unprecedented thing that Judge Garvey's best
exertions should come to naught, because of a woman's way of smiling
and speaking; but Miss Northrop's tenure of the school was secure. It
was not entirely speech and smile, however. Miss Northrop was
interested in everything, and consequently had common ground with
everybody; and she met each one on that ground, not so much ignoring
as temporarily forgetting differences.
The year wore on from gray to gray; the parching north wind poured
down the plain and darkened the air with gritty dust; the sky, though
cloudless, grew murkier every day. Then the wind shifted to the south,
and the sky grew darker yet with surging heaps of clouds, and at last
down came the late November rain; and next morning Miss Northrop could
see, like a miraculous creation of the night, up and down every
east-and-west street, a range of azure mountains along either horizon,
snow-crowned, clear-cut, against an exquisite blue sky. Every two or
three weeks the surge of clouds would come rolling up with the south
wind, and the rain would come down in torrents for days, till the
Sacramento, yellow with mud, roared level with its banks; and then the
storm would break away, and there would be a week or two of blue sky
and brilliant air and green earth.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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