A Lady at Shingle Hut.
Miss Ribbone had just arrived.
She was the mistress of the local school, and had come to board with us a
month. The parents of the score of more of youngsters attending the
school had arranged to accommodate her, month about, and it was our turn.
And did n't Mother just load us up how we were to behave--particularly Joe.
Dad lumbered in the usual log for the fire, and we all helped him throw it
on--all except the schoolmistress. Poor thing! She would have injured
her long, miserable, putty-looking fingers! Such a contrast between her
and Sal! Then we sat down to supper--that old familiar repast, hot meat
and pumpkin.
Somehow we did n't feel quite at home; but Dad got on well. He talked
away learnedly to Miss Ribbone about everything. Told her, without
swearing once, how, when at school in the old country, he fought the
schoolmaster and leathered him well. A pure lie, but an old favourite of
Dad's, and one that never failed to make Joe laugh. He laughed now. And
such a laugh!--a loud, mirthless, merciless noise. No one else joined in,
though Miss Ribbone smiled a little. When Joe recovered he held out
his plate.
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