Rensselaer Union, Volume 9, Number 44, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 July 1877 — DIMPLE’S FIRST SCHOOL-DAY. [ARTICLE]

DIMPLE’S FIRST SCHOOL-DAY.

Aunt Patie led Dimple to the red school-hou.se one warm Monday and introduced him to Miss Peaselee with these words: “He’s a good-tempered child, but a master hand at mischief, so I’m driven out of my wits some days.” Aunt Patie gave his hand a little shake, kissed him and then hastened home. “Now Dimple Stacy," said the teacher, “ here is a primer, and you can sit by Mary Vail. See what a good girl she is and you be the same.” “fiutl’m not a girl,” said Dimple, plaintively. "How can I be?” Mary Vail had smooth, fair hair and pale, blue eyes looking oilt of a pale, fair face. Somehow she made Dimple think of Aunt Patie’s calico wrapper, and he asked in a loud whisper: „>— r - “What makes you faded? Did your mamma wash you in too soapy water?” Mary Vail laughed at this droll question, showing such pretty white teeth that Dimple decided he liked her. " But you’re more prettey than I expected; I’ll give you half my saucer pie,” he added, graciously. Most of the scholars brought a lunch, and Diifiple knew grandma had put up an extra nice one in the little basket hanging on the nail under his hat. He felt like being very generous to his small companion. Betore he had sat with her an hour he had told her all about his home with grandma, how he had upset the pitcher, let out the little pigs and tipped over the churn, so there was such a buzzing and giggling in the front seat, that Miss Peaselee rapped on her desk smartly,'saying: “ Less noise, Mary vail; I thought you were my best scholar.” “Yes’m," said Dimple; “but it’s me, you know. I’m telling h«r stories.” “ Come and read,” said Miss Peaselee. Mary Vail could read in words of three letters, but Dimple was only in the alphabet, and queer work be made of the letters. He got tired, and while his little friend was reading “ Xlie-cat-is-on-the-log,” he began to look about for amusement.

Fat Sammy Sparks had tipped up the water-pail on the shelf to dip out a mugful for drinking. The tilted pail and fat Sammy looked too stood on tiptoe, gave the pail a push, and splash went the water into the face and over the body of the astonished boy, deluging the floor as well. “Dimple Stacy!” said Miss Peaselee; but Dimple had skipped away to his seat, four fingers of his right hand very wet and inky, where he had meddled with Ruth Vcse’s ink-bottle on his way. Miss Peaselee shook him slightly and lifted him suddenly to the top of her desk on the platform, where she held him by one foot until the scholars went out at recess. Then she turned him about and asked: “ How old are you ?” “Most five,” said Dimple. “I have a little nephew only two years old. He does such things as you do. He meddles, and tips over things, and makes a noise when lie ought to be still, and gives us so much trouble we have to tie him to the table-leg with a string to keep him from mischief. But he is a baby; we thiuk be will know better and behave bettor when he grows up. “ Dimple Btacy is almost five, and just as troublesome as this baby Joe. He does not know' how to be grown up and manly.” These w r ere new ideas to Dimple and he grew very red as he listened. “ Shall we call you Baby Dimple, and tie you to the table?” Dimple rubbed his eyes and shook his head. “A man likes to help along and not make work for others; a baby loves to make trouble because he knows no better. Will you be a little man or a silly baby?” “ A little ma-an!” sobbed Dimple. In all the scolding that followed his mischief he had never been told the truth iu this way, and his small mind was filled with astonishment and shame. Miss Peaselee smiled as she lifted him down from the desk, and she kissed him heartily. “ Then 1 will trust you to be my little helper, and not my little troublesome tease. Shall I?” “Yes’m,” said Dimple, walking out in a subdued frame of mind. “ Do you like school?” asked grandma, that afternoon. “Soute I do and sonde I don’t,” said Dimple, slowly. “ But Ithinkyou better put me into long trowsers, grandma, for I’m going to be a man now!”— Youth's Companion.