 was more than boy could bear, and with a joyous whoop the
whole cluster took to their heels and spread themselves about, shouting and
laughing as they went.
    »It's natural, thank Heaven!« said the poor schoolmaster, looking after
them. »I'm very glad they didn't mind me!«
    It is difficult, however, to please everybody, as most of us would have
discovered, even without the fable which bears that moral; and in the course of
the afternoon several mothers and aunts of pupils looked in to express their
entire disapproval of the schoolmaster's proceeding. A few confined themselves
to hints, such as politely inquiring what red-letter day or saint's day the
almanack said it was; a few (these were the profound village politicians) argued
that it was a slight to the throne and an affront to church and state, and
savoured of revolutionary principles, to grant a half-holiday upon any lighter
occasion than the birthday of the Monarch; but the majority expressed their
displeasure on private grounds and in plain terms, arguing that to put the
pupils on this short allowance of learning was nothing but an act of downright
robbery and fraud: and one old lady, finding that she could not inflame or
irritate the peaceable schoolmaster by talking to him, bounced out of his house
and talked at him for half-an-hour outside his own window, to another old lady,
saying that of course he would deduct this half-holiday from his weekly charge,
or of course he would naturally expect to have an opposition started against
him; there was no want of idle chaps in that neighbourhood (here the old lady
raised her voice), and some chaps who were too idle even to be schoolmasters,
might soon find that there were other chaps put over their heads, and so she
would have them take care, and look pretty sharp about them. But all these
taunts and vexations failed to elicit one word from the meek schoolmaster, who
sat with the child by his side, - a little more dejected perhaps, but quite
silent and uncomplaining.
    Towards night an old woman came tottering up the garden as speedily as she
could, and meeting the schoolmaster at the door, said he was to go to Dame
West's directly, and had best run on before her. He and the child were on the
point of going out together for a walk, and without relinquishing her hand, the
schoolmaster hurried away, leaving the messenger to follow as she might.
    They stopped at a cottage-door, and the schoolmaster knocked
