London Normal School - Spectrum Yearbook (London, Ontario Canada)

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P-ige Thirty-one

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J4appine££ JSeedb 3ollow Qoodneb Mr. Jones, John is back. We might just as well have dinner now. You know John, he ' s quite a man. Mercy, one never knows when a body will have dinner. As usual, Mrs. Peterson had issued her decree followed by numerous comments and exclama : tions. Usually, John found them humorous and sincere in the earnest way in which she made them. Previously Mrs. Peterson always acted as a buoy to his spirits, but to-night things were different. Does she have to blabber on like that? came the subdued answer from Mr. Jones. Such feelings and expressions of impatience as these were quite unusual for Jones. He usu- ally accepted things more calmly, extracting the best, the humour, from everything and enjoying the various experiences of life to a maximum. But to-night things were different. He really couldn ' t understand himself, his attitude towards Mrs. Peterson and his obvious anxiety. Not wishing Mrs. Peterson to be greatly disturbed, as surely she would be if he didn ' t appear for dinner, Jones reluctantly went for his evening meal. Other days the evening meal was a delight- ful experience to Jones after his tedious day ' s work. Formerly the frank sincerity of Mrs. Peterson, who insisted on advancing her sometimes indiscreet opinion about various people, amused him, although he tactfully developed a taciturn attitude when such discussions arose. Then, he realized that in her simple but imprudent manner, she was innocent of deliberate harm. On the other hand, at the evening meals he sometimes received good advice from the master of the house (if he could be so called, as his good wife had no intention of fixing such a title upon him), John Peterson — by name. John, a middle-aged, hard-working farmer, had in his own quiet way helped Jone s along a few rough spots in his profession, in spite of the fact that John himself had never passed eighth grade. From John, Jones realized that wisdom fuses from something more than sheer knowledge. This evening, however, Jones was not in the mood for the man ' s advice, much less for the unintelligent discussion of people as a whole. He disregarded all good habits of health, which he was always so concerned about, by allowing himself to be perturbed throughout the meal. For some time Mrs. Peterson offered a few items of gossip as topics of conversation. She ceased when she noticed that Jones was quite disgusted with the conversation. After a few platitudes suggested by John concerning the weather and wood-cutting the meal was continued in absolute silence. A con- strained atmosphere hung over the room. Jones, having quickly swallowed the last mouthful of tea, excused himself and left the room. Well — whatever has come over him? sighed Mrs. Peterson. ' It must be that those terrible Tillson children are finally upsetting the man ' s nerves. I told you that . . . . Now, Martha, cut in John, sure enough something is troubling him, but we can ' s go jumping to conclusions. But I ' ll bet my bottom plate that I know just what it is. Every one of them young fellows who come here their first year have the same trouble. I ' ll have to talk with the young lad. Maybe I can get him straightened out a bit. Martha eyed him questioningly and was just about to interrogate him when the telephone rang. Conversation ceased and they waited to interpret the code which the bell was sounding. The bell rang five distinct times — three times long, and two times short. That was the Petersons ' ring. To some people unaccustomed to party lines the interpretation of the rings has always been con- fusing, but to the Petersons no great difficulty arose. To Martha they were advantageous. She received much information from them. She excused herself from the condemning looks of her husband resulting from her conduct, by the convincing, if not rational statement: After all, a body can be a help to people only when they know what ' s going on. To John such excuses were debatable. However, he did not concern himself with them, real- izing the utter lack of malice in his wife ' s deportment. Yes, Mr. Jones is in. With this answer Martha went to call Jones, muttering to the effect that she could hardly hear the other party (whose name she had already guessed), due to the unlim- ited amount of people who were listening in desiring to know everybody ' s business. John smiled, but said nothing, realizing the air of contradiction in Martha ' swords. Yes, this is Mr. Jones. Oh, the Christmas tree; your husband might bring it in to-morrow afternoon, if he likes. . . . Yes, Betty has a part in the concert. . . . Now Mrs. Smith, just what- ever you think, really; it doesn ' t matter what she wears as we have costumes prepared. Yes, Mrs. Smith, she would look lovely with a long white dress and a red ribbon in her hair but I hardly think that the costume is appropriate for the part. . . . What was that again, please? Oh yes, you might put her hair in curlers. Your son from the city is coming home. Oh, that ' s fine. Yes, Mrs. Smith, six-thirty will be early enough for her to come. . . . Yes, it will be quite warm in the school. . . . Page Thirty i

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Yes, Mrs. Smith, everything is ready. . . . We ' ll try to have good seats for you. Yes . . . Yes, n — oh, yes. . . . Well, Mrs. Smith .... After a long conversation with this anxious mother Jones managed to say good-bye. He heaved a sigh of relief and was about to mutter some uncharitable comment but only sighed again and proceeded to his room. Uh-huh, now I know what ' s troubling the young man. Every mother in the county side is asking him about what their children should wear, what they are going to do in the concert and what not all. It ' s the Christmas concert he ' s huffed up about. He took it quite nicely till now, but being it ' s only a night away every person is throwing these botherations at him. Martha issued this deduction in a tone of finality. She was somewhat proud of the fact that she had solved the problem. Yes, Martha, that ' s where the trouble lies. Just as I was about to tell you when you answered the telephone. Remember that other young man that took over the school before Mr. Jones came. It was the same thing. But things will turn out fine and dandy. There was a knock, and John hastened to answer the door, much to the displeasure of his wife, who insisted on being portress in the Peterson homestead. I am sorry Mr. Jones is terribly busy. It would be better if you called some other time. Peterson was doing his best to save the strained teacher from the merciless slaughter of another merciless mother. But I must see him about Cynthia ' s recitation. I don ' t know just how she should say that part when she talks like a kitten. It ' s cute and I must talk to Mr. Jones. Oh, Cynthia will do just grand with her pretty brown shoes and a yellow bow in her hair. And I am sure that she will do her recitation just right. Peterson managed to satisfy Cynthia ' s mother and she left, though reluctantly. Nevertheless his praise of her daughter ' s ability had pleased her and she consented to forfeiting her talk with the teacher. Whew, came from Peterson as he staggered back from the door. No wonder he ' s done out. He ' s had those women spluttering in his face and shouting in his ears for the past month. I can sure sympathize with the lad. Peterson decided against having a talk with Jones. Instead, he asked his wife to make a cup of hot lemon to which he craftily added a somewhat more stimulating liquid, winking at his wife as she was about to protest. The man needs a good rest. He ' ll sleep like a topper and not know the differetice. I say there ' s a time when these things come in handy, Peterson stated, as he climbed the stairs holding at arm ' s length the steaming potion. Yes, Mr. Peterson, come in, came slowly and somewhat impatiently from within Jones ' s room. I ' ve just brought you a little lemon. I think that you need a good rest. Have it and go to bed right away. Everything will turn out fine. It always has and it always will, said the camou- flage expert. Jones took the lemon and thanked him for it. He was surprised to learn that Peterson had interpreted his anxiety. Slowly and unsuspiciously, he sipped the lemon. When he had finished, he said a few prayers for a successful concert and went to bed. John Peterson smiled when he heard Jones breathing deeply and evenly. He considered that his reputation as a doctor had been established. Next morning, to the Petersons ' satisfaction, Jones looked very rested but by his silence dur- ing breakfast they knew that he was still worried. Just before he left, the words that he had been tempted to blurt out so many times before issued forth sharply. I am telling you people. This is the first and last time I ' ll ever have a Christmas concert. Let the people think as they will. Everyone was on time for school that morning. The first two hours were spent doing the ordinary work of the day. The pupils did not respond to the lessons taught and seemed to have forgotten everything that they had previously learned. With the announcement that programme rehearsal was to begin, the tension lifted and even pupil ' s eyes began to dance and sparkle. Mr. Jones noticed that even big Tom, as everyone called this gangling fifteen-year-old, became interested for a change. Jones thought .... Page thirty-two