The 24th of December, with its great Christmas entertainment, had closed a term of average accomplishment in the Millerstown school. Alvin Koehler and David Hartman, who composed the highest class, had been, the one as idle, the other as sullen, as usual. The children had learned about as much as the Millerstown children were accustomed to learn in an equal time, they had been reprimanded about as often. The teacher had roared at them with the vehemence usually required for the management of such young savages as Coonie Schnable and Ollie Kuhns and Katy Gaumer. Katy, in the second class, had not nearly enough to keep her busy; there remained on her hands too many moments to be devoted to the invention of mischief.

But now, suddenly, began a new era in the Millerstown school. Mr. Carpenter, recovering at happy ease in his home in a neighboring village from the strain put upon him by the stupidity and impertinence and laziness of his pupils, was to be further irritated and annoyed.

School opened on New Year's morning, and Mr. Carpenter rose a little late from his comfortable bed at Sarah Ann Mohr's and ate hurriedly his breakfast of delicious panhaas and smoked sausage. Haste at meals always tried the sybarite soul of Mr. Carpenter. He was cross because he had to get up; he was cross because he had to teach school; he was cross at Sarah Ann because she urged him to further speed. Sarah Ann always mothered and grandmothered the teacher.

"You will come late, teacher. You will have to hurry yourself. It is not a good thing to be late on New Year's already, teacher. New Year,"—went on Sarah Ann in her provokingly placid way,—"New Year should be always a fresh start in our lives."

Mr. Carpenter slammed the kitchen door; he would have liked to be one of his own scholars for the moment and to have turned and made a face at Sarah Ann. He was not interested in fresh starts. Taking his own deliberate, comfortable time, he started out the pike.

Then, suddenly, the clear, sweet notes of the schoolhouse bell, whose rope it was his high office to pull, astonished the ears of the teacher. It was one of the impertinent boys,—Ollie Kuhns, in all probability,—who thus dared to reprove his master.

"It will give a good thrashing for that one, whoever he is," Mr. Carpenter promised himself. "He will begin the New Year fine. He will ache on the New Year."

But the bell rang slowly, its stroke was not such as the arm of a strong boy could produce. Indeed, Mr. Carpenter never allowed the boys to ring the bell, because there responded at once to the sound the whole of alarmed Millerstown seeking to rescue its children from fire. The bell had, moreover, to Mr. Carpenter's puzzled ears, a solemn tone, as though it portended things of moment. Faster Mr. Carpenter moved along, past the Squire's where Whiskey barked at him, and he hissed a little at Whiskey; past Grandfather Gaumer's, where he thought of Grandfather's Katy and her ways with bitter disapproval, to the open spaces of the pike.

The bell still rang solemnly, as Mr. Carpenter hurried across the yard and up the steps.

In the vestibule of the schoolhouse, he stood still, dumb, paralyzed. The ringer of the bell, the inventor of woe still unsuspected by Mr. Carpenter, stood before him. During the Christmas holiday, Katy's best dress had become her everyday dress; its red was redder than Katy's cheeks, brighter than her eyes; it had upon her teacher the well-known effect of that brilliant color upon certain temperaments. Mr. Carpenter's cheeks began to match it in hue; he opened his lips several times to speak, but was unable to bring forth a sound.

Katy gave the rope another long, deliberate pull, then she eased her arms by letting them drop heavily to her sides. From within the schoolroom the children, even Ollie Kuhns, watched in admiration and awe. Katy was always independent, always impertinent, but she had never before dared to usurp the teacher's place.

"Say!" Thus in a terrible voice did Mr. Carpenter finally succeed in addressing his pupil. "Who told you you had the dare to ring this bell?"

To this question Katy returned no answer. With eased arms she brushed vigorously until she had removed the lint which had gathered on her dress, then she walked into the schoolroom, denuded now of its greens and flags and reduced to the dullness of every day. Her teacher continued his admonitions as he followed her up the aisle.

"I guess you think you are very smart, Katy. Well, you are not smart, that is what you are not. I would give you a good whipping if I did right, that is what I would do. I—"

To the amazement of her school-fellows, Katy, after lingering a moment at her desk, followed Mr. Carpenter to the front of the room. She still made no answer, she only approached him solemnly. Was she going, of her own accord, to deliver herself up to punishment? Mr. Carpenter's heavy rod had never dared to touch the shoulders of Katy Gaumer, whose whole "Freundschaft" was on the school board.

The Millerstown school ceased speculating and gave itself to observation. Upon the teacher's desk, Katy laid, one by one, three books and a pamphlet. Then Katy spoke, and the sound of the school bell, solemn as it had been, was not half so ominous, so filled with alarming import as Katy's words. She stood beside the desk, she offered first one book to the master, then another.

"Here is a algebray," explained Katy; "here is a geometry, here is a Latin book. Here is a catalogue that tells about these things. I am going to college; I must know many things that I never yet heard of in this world. And you"—announced Katy—"you are to learn me!"

"What!" cried Mr. Carpenter.

"I am sorry for all the bad things I did already in this school." The Millerstown children quivered with excitement; on the last seat Ollie Kuhns pretended to fall headlong into the aisle. Alvin Koehler looked up with mild interest from his desk which he had been idly contemplating, and David Hartman blushed scarlet. Poor David's pipe had not yet cured him of love. "I will do better from now on," promised Katy. "And you"—again this ominous refrain—"you are to learn me!"

"You cannot study those things!" cried Mr. Carpenter in triumph. "You are not even in the first class!"

"I will move to the first class," announced Katy. "This week I have studied all the first class spelling. You cannot catch me on a single word. I can spell them in syllables and not in syllables. I can say l, l, or double l. I can say them backwards. I have worked also all the examples in the first class arithmetic. The squire"—thus did Katy dangle the chains of Mr. Carpenter's servitude before his disgusted eyes—"the squire, he heard me the spelling, and the doctor, he looked at my examples. They were all right. It will not be long before I catch up with those two in the first class." Katy flushed a deeper red. Over and over she said to herself, "I shall be in the first class with Alvin, I shall be in the first class with Alvin!" Her knees began suddenly to tremble and she started back to her desk, scarcely knowing which way she went.

As she passed down the aisle, she felt upon her David Hartman's glance. He sat in the last row, his head down between his shoulders. As Katy drew near, his gaze dropped to the hem of her red dress. David's heart thumped; it seemed to him that every one in the school must see that he was in love with Katy Gaumer. He hated himself for it.

"Don't you want me in your class, David?" asked Katy foolishly and flippantly. Katy spoke a dozen times before she thought once.

David looked up at her, then he looked down. His eyes smarted; he was terrified lest he cry.

"I have one dumb one in my class already," said he. "I guess I can stand another."

Katy dropped into her seat with a slam. The teacher's hand was poised above the bell which called the school to order, and for Katy, at least, there was to be no more ignoring of times and seasons.

"Dumb?" repeated Katy. "You will see who is the dumb one!"

With the loud ringing of the teacher's bell a new order began in the Millerstown school. Its first manifestation was beneficent, rather than otherwise. It became apparent that with Katy Gaumer orderly, the school was orderly. The morning passed and then the afternoon without a pause in its busy labors. No one was whipped, no one was sent to the corner, no one was even reproved. A studious Katy seemed to set an example to the school; a respectful Katy seemed to establish an atmosphere of respect. Mr. Carpenter was wholly pleased.

But Mr. Carpenter's pleasure did not last. Mr. Carpenter became swiftly aware of a worse condition than that of the past. Mr. Carpenter had been lifted from the frying-pan and laid upon the fire.

To her teacher's dismay, Katy came early in the morning to ask questions; she stayed in the schoolroom at recess to ask questions; sometimes, indeed, she visited her afflicted teacher in the evenings to ask questions. Katy enjoyed visiting him in the evenings, because then Sarah Ann Mohr, sitting on the other side of the table, her delectable Millerstown "Star" forgotten, her sewing in her lap, her lips parted, burned before her favorite the incense of speechless admiration. Poor Mr. Carpenter grew thin and white, and his little mustache drooped as though all hope had gone from him. Mr. Carpenter learned to his bitter sorrow that algebra and geometry were no idle threats, and Mr. Carpenter, who had put his normal school learning, as he thought, forever behind him, had to go painfully in search of it. The squire was Katy's uncle, the doctor was her cousin; they were all on Katy's side; they helped her with her lessons; they encouraged her in this morbid and unhealthy desire for learning, and the teacher did not dare to refuse her. The difficulties of the civil service examination appalled him; he could never pass; he must at all costs keep the Millerstown school.

Occasionally, as of old, Katy corrected him, but now her corrections were involuntary and were immediately apologized for.

"You must not say 'craddle'; you must say 'crawl' or 'creep,'" directed Katy. "Ach, I am sorry! I did not mean to say that! But how"—this with desperate appeal—"how can I learn if you do not make it right?"

Sometimes Katy threatened poor Mr. Carpenter with Greek; then Mr. Carpenter would have welcomed the Socratic cup.

"My patience is all," he groaned. "Do they take me for a dictionary? Do they think I am a encyclopÆdia?"

Still, through the long winter Katy's relatives continued to spoil her. In Millerstown there has never been any objection to educating women simply because they are women. The Millerstown woman has always had exactly what she wanted. The normal schools and high schools in Pennsylvania German sections have always had more women students than men. If Katy wanted an education, she should have it; indeed, in the sudden Gaumer madness, Katy should have had the moon if she had asked for it and if her friends could have got it for her. Her grandfather and grandmother talked about her as they sat together in the evenings while Katy was extracting knowledge from the squire or from the doctor or from Mr. Carpenter, never dreaming that they were rapidly ruining the Benjamin of their old age. They had trained many children, and the squire had admonished all Millerstown, but Katy was never admonished by any of them. They liked her bright speech, they liked her ambition, they allowed themselves the luxury of indulging her in everything she wanted.

"She is that smart!" Bevy Schnepp expressed the opinion of all Katy's kin. "When she is high gelernt [learned], she will speak in many woices [tongues]."

Of all her relatives none spoiled Katy quite so recklessly as young Dr. Benner. There was not enough practice in healthy Millerstown to keep him busy, and Katy amused and entertained him. He liked to take her about with him in his buggy; he liked to give her hard problems, and to see to what lengths of memorizing she could go. Dr. Benner had theories about the education of children and he expounded them with the cheerful conceit of bachelors and maiden ladies. Dr. Benner, indeed, had theories about everything. It was absurd, to Dr. Benner's thinking, ever to restrain a healthy child from learning.

"Let 'em absorb," said he. "They won't take more than is good for 'em."

Dr. Benner was nearly enough related to Katy to be called a cousin, yet far enough removed to be stirred into something like jealousy at Katy's enthusiastic defense of the Koehlers. Katy should have no youthful entanglement—Dr. Benner remembered his own early development and flushed shamefacedly—to prevent her from growing into the remarkable person she might become. Dr. Benner decided that she must be got away from Millerstown as soon as possible; she had been already too much influenced by its German ways. Katy was meant for higher things. For a while young Dr. Benner felt that, pruned and polished, Katy was meant for him!

Meanwhile, Katy was to be saved from further contamination by being kept constantly busy. It pleased him to see her devoted to algebra, and he was constantly suggesting new departures in learning to her aspiring mind. It was unfortunate that each new suggestion included a compliment.

"I believe you could sing, Katy," said he, one March day, as, with Katy beside him, he drove slowly down the mountain road.

The landscape lay before them, wide, lovely, smiling, full of color in the clear sunshine. Far away a bright spot showed where the sun was reflected from the spires and roofs of the county seat; here and there the blast furnaces lifted the smoky banner of prosperous times.

Katy's cheeks were red, her dark hair blew across her forehead; it was with difficulty that she sat still beside the doctor. Spring was coming, life was coming.

"Sing?" said Katy, "I sing? I would like that better than anything I can think of in this world. I would rather be a singer than a missionary."

There was really nothing in the world that Katy would not have liked to do, except to stay in Millerstown and be inconspicuous; there was nothing in the world which she questioned her ultimate ability to do.

The doctor chuckled at Katy's comparison, which Katy had not intended to be funny.

"A classmate of mine is coming to see me next week. He teaches singing, and I'm going to get him to hear your voice. Won't that be fine, Katy?"

"Everything is fine," answered Katy.

The doctor's classmate arrived; for him Katy oh'd and ah'd through an astonishingly wide range. The young man was enthusiastic over her vocal possibilities.

"But he says you mustn't take lessons for another year," said Dr. Benner.

Again he and Katy were driving down the mountain road. They had climbed this afternoon to the Sheep Stable, and from there had gazed at the glorious prospect and had counted through a glass the scattered villages and the church spires in the county seat.

Katy's blood tingled in her veins. She had never dreamed that she could sing! She had never seen a picture which was painted by hand or she would now have been certain that she could become a great artist. She determined that some day she would return to the Sheep Stable alone and there sing for her own satisfaction. She had not sung her best for the doctor's friend down in grandmother's parlor, her best meaning her loudest. At the Sheep Stable there would be no walls to confine the great sounds she would produce.

"I will sing so that they hear me at Allentown," she planned. "I have no time now, but when I have time I will go once. It is so nice not to be dumb," finished Katy with great satisfaction.

The winter passed like a dream. Presently an interesting change came about in the Millerstown school and in its teacher. Perhaps Mr. Carpenter was mortified, as well as driven into it, but there sprang up somehow in his soul a decent, honest ambition. Delving painfully after forgotten knowledge, he studied to some purpose, and it began to seem as though even civil service questions might become easy and Mr. Carpenter pass his examinations at last. For the first few weeks of the new rÉgime, he was able to keep only a lesson or two ahead of his pupils, but, little by little, that space widened. As if in pure spite, Mr. Carpenter learned his lessons. Then he assumed a superior and taunting air. Katy at the Christmas entertainment had looked at him with no more disgust than his face now expressed when his pupils gave wrong answers.

"'Gelt regiert die Welt, und Dummheit Millerstown'" (Gold rules the world and stupidity Millerstown)! Thus Mr. Carpenter adapted a familiar proverb in comment upon mistakes which he himself would have made a month ago.

Mr. Carpenter's pupils followed him steadily. David Hartman was more mature than the others and kept without difficulty at their head. As for Katy, with the help which Katy had out of school hours, even a dull child might have done well. It was help which was not unsuspected by David, but David held his tongue. David felt a fierce, unwilling pride in Katy's spirit.

But there was another sort of help being given and received which David resented jealously and indignantly, hardly believing the evidence of his own ears and eyes. David had taken some pleasure in the winter's work. He sat daily beside Katy in class; it was not possible for her to be always rude and curt. David was also puzzled and moved by a change in his father. He often met his father's glance when he lifted his own eyes suddenly, and it seemed to him that his father had come to realize his existence. His heart softened; he was pathetically quick to respond to signs of affection. It seemed to him that each day brought with it the possibility of some new, extraordinary happening. Several times he was on the point of putting his arm about his father's shoulders as he sat with his paper. Without being conscious of it, John Hartman showed outwardly the signs of the inward struggle. Never had his yearning, repressed love for the boy so tortured him, never had it demanded so insistently an outward expression. But he repressed himself a little longer. When he should have made all right with William Koehler, then would he yield to the impulses of fatherhood. That bound poor Hartman had set himself.

Katy remembered all her life, even if Alvin Koehler did not, the day on which Alvin set to work with diligence. He often looked at her curiously, as if he could not understand her. But Alvin gave earnest thought only to himself, to his hopeless situation with a half-mad and dishonest father and the dismal prospect of working in the furnace. His father seemed to be becoming more wild. There were times when Alvin feared violence at his hands. He talked to himself all day long, making frequent mention of John Hartman. Sometimes Alvin thought vaguely of warning the squire or John Hartman himself about his father. He believed less and less his father's crazy story.

Sometimes Alvin stared at Katy and blinked like an owl in his effort to account for her alternate shyness and kindness. Alvin was not accustomed to being treated kindly.

"And what will you do when you are educated?" he inquired.

"What will I do?" repeated Katy, her heart thumping as it always did when Alvin spoke to her. "I will teach and I will earn a great deal of money and travel over the whole world and buy me souvenirs. And I will sing."

It was very pleasant to tell Alvin of her prospects. Perhaps he would walk home with her from church on Sunday. Then how Essie Hill, in spite of all her outward piety, would hate her! The secret of mild Essie's soul was not a secret from Katy.

"Will you teach in a school like Millerstown?" asked Alvin.

"Millerstown! Never! It would have to be a bigger school than Millerstown."

Alvin looked up at Mr. Carpenter. It was recess and Mr. Carpenter was hearing a spelling class which had not learned its lesson for the morning recitation. Mr. Carpenter did not appear at his best, judged by the usually accepted standards of etiquette; he leaned back lazily in his chair, his feet propped on his desk, his hands clasped above his head; but to Alvin there was nothing inelegant in his attitude. Mr. Carpenter was an enviable person; he never needed to soil his hands or to have a grimy face or to carry a dinner pail.

"Teaching would be nice work," said Alvin drearily. "But I can never learn this Latin. I am all the time getting farther behind. It gets every day worse and worse."

"Oh, but you can learn it!" cried Katy, her face aglow. If he would only, only, let her help! "I will show you. Here are my sentences for to-day. The doctor went over them and he says they are all right." And blushing, with her heart pounding more than ever, Katy returned to her seat.

There was a difficult sentence in that day's lesson, a sentence over which David Hartman had puzzled and on which he failed. Then the teacher called on Alvin, simply as a matter of form. The school had begun to giggle a little when they heard his name. But now up he rose, the dull, the stupid, the ordinary, and read the sentence perfectly! At him David Hartman stared with scarlet face. He expected that the teacher would rise and annihilate Alvin, but the teacher passed to the next sentence. Mr. Carpenter was at the present time angry at David; he was rather glad he was discomfited. Such was the nature of Mr. Carpenter!

To Alvin David said nothing, but upon the shoulder of Katy Gaumer, putting on her cloak in the cupboard after school, David laid a heavy hand.

"You helped Alvin!" David's hand quivered with astonishment and anger and from the touch of Katy's shoulder. "It is cheating. Some day I am going to catch you at it before the whole school."

Before she could answer, if she could have made answer at all, David was gone. She hated him; she would help Alvin all she liked until he had caught up, and afterwards, too, if she pleased. Alvin had had no chance, and David had everything, a rich father, fine clothes and money. It was perfectly fair for her to help Alvin. She hated all the Hartmans. She was furiously angry and it hurt to be angry. It did not occur to her to be ashamed of Alvin who would accept a girl's translation. With a whirl and a flirting of her skirts, Katy sailed through the door and down the pike.

"You will sit in Millerstown!" she declared to the empty air. "But I am going away! Nothing ever happens in Millerstown. Millerstown is nothing worth!" Then Katy stood still, dizzy with all the glorious prospect of life. "I am going away! I am going away!"