The Fires of Spring [antikvár]

The Poorhouse David Harper could scarcely sit still. It was Friday afternoon, and Miss Clapp was reading from the blue book. For three weeks now she had been reading about Hector and Achilles. This afternoon Hector would go forth to battle. David, who had been a Trojan for almost a month, shivered with excitement. He knew that when Achilles met a real fighter things would be different. Then Miss Clapp closed the book! "What happened next?" David cried. Miss Clapp smiled primly. "We'll find out next week." "Oh!" David gasped. He was eleven that year, and next Friday was as far away as next year. Miss Clapp gave a self-contented smile. With her left hand she deftly tapped the pile of brown report cards. "I suppose you know why I had to stop early today," she said unctuously. Like all teachers, she savored the little climaxes that were permitted her. "Report cards!" the children in Grade Five chimed. Miss Clapp smiled warmly, as if her students had mastered the multiplication table. As she called the happy litany of names, each child went forward to receive the decisive card. Returning to their seats, the children stole furtive glances at their grades. Those who were pleased smiled. 5