They slipped down from the benches, the girls bobbing and the boys ducking their heads, in such haste that two of them knocked together and commenced quarrelling. Deliverance, with a vigorous shake of each small culprit, put them at opposite ends of the bench. The first task was the study of the alphabet. A buzz of whispering voices arose as the children conned their letters from books made of two sheets of horn: on one side the alphabet was printed and on the other the Lord’s Prayer. The humming of the little voices over their A, B, C’s made a pleasant accompaniment to their teacher’s thought, who, with every stitch in the sampler she was embroidering, wove in a vision of herself in a crimson velvet gown and stomacher worked with gold thread, such as were worn by the little court lady, the Cavalier’s sweetest daughter. Growing conscious of a disturbance in class she looked up. “Stability Williams,” she said sternly, “can ye no sit still without jerking around like as your head was loosed?” Stability’s tears flowed copiously at the reproof. “Please, ma’am,” spoke up Hannah Sears, “he’s been pulling o’ her hair.” Deliverance’s sharp eyes spied the guilty offender. “Ebenezer Gibbs,” said she, “stop your wickedness, and as for ye, Stability Williams, cease your idle soughing.” For awhile all was quiet. Then, there broke forth a muffled sob from Stability, followed by an irrepressible giggle from the boys. Deliverance stepped down from the platform and rapped Ebenezer Gibbs’ head smartly with her thimble. “Ye rude and ill-mannered boy,” she cried; “have ye no shame to be pulling Stability Williams’ hair and inticing others to laugh at your evil doings? Ye can just come along now and stand in the crying-corner.” The crying-corner was the place where the children stood to weep after they had been punished. Pathetic record of childish grief was this corner, the pine boards black with the imprint of small grimy fingers and spotted with tears from little wet faces. Doubtless Deliverance rapped the offender more severely than she intended, for he wept steadily. Although she knew he deserved the reproof, his crying smote her heart sorely. “Ebenezer Gibbs,” she said, after a while, “when ye think ye have weeped sufficient long, ye can take your seat.” But he continued to weep and sniffle the entire morning, not even ceasing when his companions had their resting-minute. The day was quite spoiled for Deliverance by the sight of the tiny figure with the cropped head pressed close in the corner, as the culprit rested first on one foot and then the other.