Little Tora, The Swedish Schoolmistress and Other Stories

The kindly doctor was entertaining his brother-in-law, and all the family were sitting round the table in state. The polished silver and shining glass, with porcelain, flowers, and fruit, seemed to be all that had been provided for the dinner.

The usual "grace" had hardly been said, when a trim maid announced that a little girl was at the door, who must see the doctor about something particular. "There is nobody sick more than usual," she says; "but she must come in," continued the irritated damsel-in-waiting.

"Let her come in here. You can never have your meals in peace!" said the doctor's wife affectionately.

The soup and the little girl came in together, the latterly evidently quite prepared to state her errand. She was a small, straight child, with a determined air and a cheery face, as if sure of success in her undertaking. Fresh in Monday cleanliness, her white cotton head-kerchief stood stiffly out in a point behind, and her calico apron was without spot or wrinkle. Her shoes, though they had been diligently blackened and were under high polish, did not correspond with the rest of her appearance. They had evidently been made for a boy, an individual much larger than their present wearer. Great wrinkles crossing each other shut off some low, unoccupied land near the toe, and showed how much of the sole had been too proud to touch the common ground. All this the observers saw at once.

"Well, Tora!" said the doctor pleasantly, after she had dropped her bob-courtesies, and "good-days" had been exchanged.

"May I sing for you?" said the little girl, without further hesitation, as she hastily took out a thin, black book from the small pocket handkerchief in which it had been carefully wrapped.

"Sing? yes, surely!" said the doctor. "Just the thing for us while we are taking our dinner. My brother-in-law here is a famous judge of music, so you must do your best."

Tora opened the book, took what she considered an imposing position, and announced the name of the song. It was a patriotic one, and in the full chorus of the schoolroom it had stirred the young Swedish hearts to their depths.

The first few notes were right, though tremblingly given; then came a quivering and a faltering and a falsity that made the doctor's boys cover their laughing mouths with their hands, while their eyes twinkled with suppressed merriment.

Just then there was a queer buzzing noise in the room, by which the tune was carried on, and Tora fell in with fresh courage. Most of the party were taking their soup, as well as listening; but the boys observed that their uncle quietly held his motionless spoon, and was looking at the singer as if lost in musical bliss. His mouth was closed, but his nostrils seemed undergoing a rhythmical contraction and distension most interesting and unusual.

Tora gave the closing notes in fine style, and the expression of applause was general. So encouraged, she volunteered a simple newly-published carol that she had that day been practising at school. Here it seemed the musical accompaniment could not be relied upon. Tora began, stopped, and began again, then was silent, while great tears stood in her eyes.

One of the before-smiling boys hastened to say,-

"Let her speak a piece, uncle. She can do that beautifully, her brother Karl says. He has taught her ever so many, and it costs her nothing to learn them. He likes to tell that she is the best scholar in her class."

The uncle seemed to be able to enjoy his dinner at the same time as the elocutionary treat with which it was now accompanied, and he warmly complimented the speaker on her performance at its close.

"What made you think of giving us this pleasure, little Tora?" said the doctor, with a humorous look in his kindly face.

"Why," said the little girl at once, "I don't like my shoes. They have been brother Karl's. When I asked father this morning to give me some new ones, he said this was a fine strong pair and did not let in water, and he could not think of letting them go to waste. Then he looked sorrowful, and I heard him say to mother, 'The poor children will have to earn all they have soon.' I made up my mind to begin at once, and earn my shoes, if I could. Our teacher told us to-day about Jenny Lind, who began to sing when she was a very little girl, and when she was older she made a great deal of money, and gave away ever so much, and was loved and admired wherever she went. I thought I should like to be loved and admired wherever I went, and have new shoes whenever I wanted them, and I would try singing too. I came here first because the doctor has always been so pleasant to me and so good to us all."

"You have made a real beginning," said the brother-in-law.-"Gustaf, take round the hat."

The doctor's son ran for his cap. There was a chinking and a silver flash as the uncle put his hand into the cap. Something of the same kind happened when it came to the doctor's turn to contribute. The mother fumbled confusedly in her pocket, and found only her handkerchief. The boys tossed in conspicuously some coppers of their own, perhaps with the idea of covering, by their munificence, the evident discomfiture of their mother.

"There! there!" said the uncle. "Hand the cap to the little girl. What is in it is for the singer. As for the shoes, I'll see about that.-I would not advise you, though, little Tora, to try singing to make money. It might do for Jenny Lind, but I hardly think it would suit for you."

The little girl's countenance fell. The friendly stranger went on, "How would you like to be a little schoolmistress? That would be a nice way for you to take care of yourself, and maybe help all at home, by-and-by. I know how that thing is done, and I think we could manage it."

The uncle did know "how that thing was done," and who meant to do it. Little Tora was provided for from that day; and so, if she did not sing like Jenny Lind, she sang herself into being a schoolmistress-a little schoolmistress of the very best order.

* * *

It was five o'clock in the morning on one of the last days of August. This was no legally-sanctioned Swedish moving-day, and yet it was plain that with somebody a change of residence was in progress.

Before a low house on a winding "cobble-stone" paved street two long, narrow wagons were standing. Their horses faced in different directions, though in all other respects the two establishments were, even to their loading, like a pair of twins. In each was the furniture for one simple room, a sofa-bed being the striking article in the inventory. A carefully-packed basket of china, a few primitive cooking utensils, and some boxes and packages indicated, if not good cheer, at least something to keep soul and body together.

The outer door of the house was locked at last, and the key had been handed to a humble woman, who courtesied and took it as a matter of form; though both parties knew that she would soon be opening that door and coming into lawful possession of all the effects, remnants, and refuse left on the premises, and would be sure to hand that house over to the landlord in a superlatively clean and tidy condition.

Two stout men took their places as drivers, and two passengers stood on the low steps for a few parting words. They were by no means twins. The straight, slight girl, though not tall, yet fully grown, had been the little Tora, the singer of one public performance. Now she had in her pocket her greatest treasure-the paper that pronounced her a fully-fledged schoolmistress; who had completed with honour the prescribed course at the seminary duly authorized for the manufacture of teachers of unimpeachable character, and all pedagogical requisites in perfection.

At Tora's side stood "brother Karl," just about to start for Upsala University, with his arrangements complete for his bachelor housekeeping on the most simple principles.

There was no effusiveness in the parting. "Keep well, Karl, and don't study too hard," said the sister. "And don't have any 'food-days'; I could not bear that. But you must not live too low, and pull yourself down. Send to me if you get to the bottom of your purse. I shall be likely to have a few coppers in mine."

"I'll warrant that, Miss Prudence," was his reply. "Nobody but you would have managed to keep us both comfortably on what was only meant to carry you through the seminary. Don't be afraid for me! I shall clear my own way. I shall teach boys in the evening, and study after they have gone to bed. I have served a good apprenticeship with the doctor's chaps these years. I understand packing lessons into youngsters to be given out in the class next day. Then I am to write an article now and then for the paper here, with Upsala news for the country folks. As to 'food-days,' I am not exactly of your mind. I have made arrangements for one already."

"O Karl! how could you?" said Tora reproachfully.

"Gunner Steelhammer liked well enough to take porridge with us now and then when he was teaching here. His mother has told him to invite me to dine at their house on Sundays, and to call there whenever I feel like it. We are real friends, though he is a university tutor now. Anybody that I would be willing to help I am willing to let help me. Of course, I shall enjoy a good substantial dinner once a week, but I really care more to be with the family at that house. Gunner is a splendid fellow, as you know, and his father draws all kinds of nice people about him, I hear. I did not dare to tell you this before, little sister; but now I have made a clean breast of it. I was half teasing about it, too. Be sure, I'll work hard and live low before I shall let anybody help me. Well, good-bye," and he stretched out his hand to Tora, who took it hastily for a hearty shake, and then they parted.

Karl was wearing his white university cap, which, with the loading of the wagon, marked him as a student on the way to Upsala, and would ensure him many a friendly greeting by the way. Tora had prudently covered the fresh velvet with a fair cotton cover; but the blue-and-yellow rosette was in full sight-a token of the honours he had lately won at his examination, and would be striving to win at the old centre of learning. The kind neighbours whom he had known from boyhood had added to his equipment-here a cheese, and there a pat of butter or a bag of fresh biscuits; but he did not need to open his stores by the way. Now and again from the roadside houses kindly faces smiled on him, and homely fare was offered him by the elders; while flowers or wild berries came to his share from glad children who had been ranging the woods for treasures during these last days of their summer vacation.

As for Tora, sitting in a low chair in the midst of her possessions, she went rattling over the cobble-stones, if not more proud at least more happy of heart than a conqueror of old at the head of a Roman triumph. She had reached the goal towards which she had long been striving. She was now an independent worker, with a profession by which she could earn an honourable living. She was a teacher, "a teacher of the little school"-that is to say, of the school for little children. The state was her sure paymaster. If continued health were granted her, her path for the future was plain-her bread was sure.

The cobble-stones were soon passed, and over the smooth country road rumbled the clumsy vehicle, now through evergreen thickets, now through groves of bright birches, and at last out on the rolling meadows. The fences had disappeared, and but for a lone landmark here and there, the sea of green might have seemed the property of any strong-handed labourer who might choose to call it his own.

Down an unusually steep slope the wagon passed, then across the low meadow with a bright stream threading its midst, and then there was a triumphant sweep up to the little red schoolhouse where Tora was to have her abode and the sphere of her labours.

A low wooded point ran like a promontory out into the meadow, and there "the forefathers of the vale" had built the temple for the spelling-book and the slate.

On the opposite side from the meadow the schoolhouse was entered, after crossing the wide playground. Where "the field for sport" ended at the road there stood a lad, evidently looking out eagerly for the arrival of the new teacher.

"That's a life-member of the little school," said the driver, with a whimsical look. "Nils is not much at books, but he's a powerful singer."

The last words were spoken within the hearing of the frank-faced boy, who now pulled off his cap, and stepped up to the wagon to help Tora down. She shook his hand kindly, and said, "I hear you are a singer, Nils. I am glad of that, for in my certificate I got but a poor record for my singing."

"And 'great A' for everything else, mother said," he answered promptly, while his eyes beamed pleasantly on the new teacher, whose first friendly greeting had won his heart.

"I'll help you down with the heavy things first," said Nils to the driver, "and then if you'll set the rest here, we'll take them in together later. I want to show the schoolhouse to the mistress."

The one room set apart for the home of the teacher did not look dreary as she stepped into it. The table from the schoolroom stood in the centre covered with a white cloth, its edge outlined by bright birch leaves laid on it, loosely and tastefully, like a wreath. Then on a tray covered with a snowy napkin stood a shining coffee-pot, with cups for three, and a light saffron cake that might have sufficed for the whole school assembled.

"Mother thought perhaps you would like a taste of something warm after your ride," said Nils, as he proceeded to pour out a cup of coffee as if he were quite at home. At home he was in a way, for in that schoolhouse he had for years passed his days among the little ones, through a special permit from the school board.

Tora clasped her hands, and stood silent a moment before she tasted the first morsel of food in her new home, and her heart sent up really grateful thoughts to her heavenly Father, who had so blessed her, and would, she was sure, continue to bless her in her new surroundings.

"May I take out a cup to Petter?" asked Nils, while he cut the big cake into generous pieces, and offered the simple entertainment to the teacher. Of course the driver did not refuse the proposed refreshment, nor did Nils hesitate to help himself, while the mistress was taking her coffee and glancing round the premises.

All was fresh and clean about her. The windows had evidently been open since early morning, and the closets and shelves could well afford to be displayed through the doors more than half ajar.

"Thanks, Nils," said the mistress, as she took the boy's hand after the refreshment.

"Thanks and welcome to the new teacher!" was the reply.

"Now I shall go in and look at the schoolroom while Petter and you furnish my room for me. The sofa should stand there, and the bureau there. The rest I can leave to you," said Tora, as she disappeared.

Nils unfolded a strip of rag carpeting and "criss-crossed" it round the room, whispering to himself, "Mother said there were to be no footmarks left behind us."

The schoolroom was but a big, bare room-no maps on the walls, none of the modern aids for instruction, save that the space between the two windows that looked out towards the meadow had been painted, to be used as a blackboard: "a useless, new-fangled notion" the rustics had called this forward step in the way of education.

In front of the blackboard stood a wooden armchair for the teacher. The benches were low, and the desks were of the simplest sort, saving one, which was larger and higher, which the teacher at once understood was the permanent arrangement for Nils. Her heart went out towards the big, kind fellow, on whom so sore a trial had been laid in his youth.

Along one side of the schoolroom there were four horses standing silent, but not "saddled and bridled," as in old nursery stories. Without head or tail, they stood on four sprawling legs-supports for two long, "shallow boxes" that had been in the schoolroom for fifty years or more. Wood was abundant in the old days, and unskilful hands had done the work; so the boxes were but clumsy specimens of carpentry, and deep enough, it seemed, to hold sand for all the long winter through. The grandfathers of the neighbourhood could remember when these receptacles were their writing-desks, in which, stick in hand, they were taught to trace in the smoothed sand their names or any higher efforts of chirography that the teacher might demand. These superannuated articles of furniture were now used in winter as places of deposit for the children's folded outer garments, rather than the cold vestibule. There, too, the dinner-baskets had their rightful quarters.

The room was high, as it went up to the very roof. On the rafters were stored, in cold weather, the stilts for summer, and the bundles of ropes for the swings to be fastened to the tall trees by adventurous Nils, whose friendly hands delighted to send the laughing little ones flying far up into the fresh air like merry fairies. There, too, were the bows and arrows, and all other lawful things for summer sport.

The little schoolmistress took a full survey of her new kingdom, sat for a moment in her chair of state, and noticed a simple footstool put in front of it for her use, as she fancied, by that unknown "mother" who seemed to have her comfort so much at heart.

When the new mistress returned to her own private apartment, the furniture was all in place, the covers were taken from the boxes, and everything was ready for her personal arrangement of her property.

"The school board have had shutters put to the windows," said the driver, pointing to the late improvement. "They thought perhaps the new teacher might be afraid. This is a lonely place."

"Afraid!" said the little schoolmistress, wonderingly; "I am never afraid, night or day."

The driver opened his eyes wide as he answered,-

"The last teacher was as tall as I am, and she always kept a pistol at night by her on a chair, with an apron thrown over it, so the thieves could not find it and shoot her before she had a chance at them. This little mistress must be made of different stuff.-Well, good-bye, miss, and I wish you well."

Tora was about to put in his hand the usual payment for his services, when he shut his broad fist expressively, and then half raised it, as he said,-

"I never took pay for a mistress's things being brought to this schoolhouse yet, and I don't mean to do it now. Folks for the most part seem to like you, but I have a particular feeling. I knew your father once, and he was good to me."

The honest man could say no more just then, and he hurried out of the room. Nils followed with his best bow, but the pleasant words reached his ears,-

"We'll meet soon again. Thanks! thanks to you both.-I think we shall be real friends, Nils, you and I."

That little allusion to her father, coming so suddenly, had almost made Tora break down in the midst of her abounding courage. The past came up in vivid pictures where scenes of sorrow were predominant. Her weak, ever-ailing little baby sister had floated quietly across the dark river. The stricken mother sank, and soon followed her child to the churchyard. The father's hand, that had first guided an editor's pen, and then in his long decline that of a mere copyist, grew weaker and weaker, and finally the last loving pressure was given to his daughter, and then that hand lay still and white. Its work on earth was done, and the brother and sister were left alone. Courageous and loving, they had both struggled on. Her end was attained, but he was at the beginning of the steady conflict before him. How would he bear himself in the battle? If she could only know whether his surroundings would be as pleasant and homelike as her own, and his heart as full of hope and quiet trust! Would he be borne safely through the privations and temptations of his university life? A prayer went silently up to the Father of all for that absent brother, and then the practical little sister was soon deep in the stir of bringing all things to order in her new home. Physical effort brought back the resolute cheerfulness so natural to the little schoolmistress, and she hummed to herself a simple song of long ago, to which she could always hear the buzzing accompaniment of that stranger who had proved to her a faithful, untiring benefactor and friend.

* * *

The winter had been unusually long. For nearly six months the ground had been continually white. Not that it had been clothed by an ever-smooth, fair mantle. The snow had been tossed and whirled by the wild winds till it was fitfully heaped, now in the meadows, and now banked up against the very hill-sides. But for the dark woods as landmarks, the face of the country would have seemed to be utterly changed. The ice-covered streams were hidden away out of sight, and the wide ponds appeared but as smooth pastures.

A path from the little-frequented road had been kept open to the schoolhouse. Week by week this narrow way to the seat of learning had been walled higher and higher, until at last the rustic scholars seemed passing through a stately white marble corridor as they filed along towards the well-known door.

The first days of April had come and gone without a flower-bud to greet them. The weather had suddenly grown soft and mild, and a drizzling rain had been falling all night.

Nils appeared early at school; but the tidy mistress had already cleared away all traces of her modest breakfast, and was ready to bid him welcome more as a visitor than a scholar. They had some pleasant chat together, and then the teacher said seriously, as she laid her hand on the boy's shoulder, "You must try as hard as you can, Nils, to do well, or I am afraid you will not 'go up' this year."

"I do try-I try as hard as I can!" he said. Tears suddenly filled his large eyes as he added, "I am not like other boys, and I know it."

"God knows what you can do, Nils," she said tenderly; "and He will not judge you for what is not your fault. It may be, 'Well done, good and faithful servant!' for you at the last, if you cannot be a great scholar."

Some merry voices at the door put an end to the conversation, and the school was soon going on in its usual routine.

Many weather-wise mothers had kept their children at home, and only eight scholars were in their places, not counting Nils, who occupied in many practical things a middle ground between the little ones and the teacher.

A heavy rain soon began to fall, and pattered cheerily on the roof, to the great delight of the small pupils. Towards noon the schoolmistress was hearing the class read aloud. She sat with her back to the windows, with the light falling on the book she held in her hand; but she did not see a letter. Suddenly she looked up and said, "Nils, please open the right-hand shutter in my room."

The boy obeyed instantly; but in another moment he said quickly, "Please come in here a moment, teacher."

She disappeared immediately, closing the door behind her. Nils pointed to the window with wide-open eyes, and said, "The meadow is all afloat!"

"I know it!" she answered calmly. "I saw it while the children were getting their books for the class. If the pond above breaks over the banks, we may be all swept away in a moment. There is no time to be lost. The children must not be frightened. I have thought just what to do. You can swim, Nils?"

"Yes," was his only answer.

"I can swim too," she said. "If anything goes wrong, we must do what we can for the children." She looked into the clear, calm eyes of the boy, and she knew she could trust him. They returned quietly to the schoolroom. The teacher had hardly taken her seat and closed the book she had held in her hand, when there was a loud crashing sound without, and a heavy thud against the outer door.

"It's all right," said Nils calmly, taking his cue from the teacher. "I put up the bar after the children came in. I supposed this might happen."

"We don't mind the snow falling against the door," said the teacher cheerfully. "We didn't mean to go out that way. We shall go home by boat anyhow. I've thought about that before."

"By boat!" exclaimed the children delightedly, for to them a row or a sail was the most charming thing in the world.

"But where's the boat?" asked a prudent little boy, with a sceptical look in his small countenance. "And where's the water?" he would have added if he had dared.

"Two boats-two boats are here! I see them now!" said the teacher, glancing at the sand-boxes.-"Nils, climb up into the rafters and bring down the oars."

Climbing to the rafters was a familiar exploit of Nils's. With one foot on his desk and his knee to the wall, he swung himself up in a moment.

"Hand down my oars and yours," she said, as she pointed at the stilts; for the little schoolmistress was a leader in the sports of her children, and often enjoyed them as much as they did.

The stilts were duly secured, and then the order followed, "And now the ropes for the launching," and another glance prompted the lowering of the summer swings for their new use.

"Give out the clothes, Nils, and call the names of the children as usual," said the teacher. Those were no dainty little ones, accustomed to be dressed like passive dolls by careful nurses or over-fond mammas. They had but to receive their garments in the daily orderly way, and to put them on as they well knew how. There might sometimes be an obstinate string or button, but Nils was sure to be able to help in any such difficulty, or even to tie a refractory kerchief over the light locks. The children now put on their wrappings mechanically, lost in watching the proceedings of the teacher and her obedient assistant.

The swings were cut in halves and attached to the strong handles of the empty sand-boxes of olden times. "And now we must launch the boats," said the teacher, with the nearest approach she could muster to the manner of a bluff sea-captain.

"Heave ho!" shouted Nils, as he put his strong shoulders to the work of moving the boats, while the mistress held on to the horses.

One by one the boats were put in what Tora deemed proper position, the square prows curiously tilted up to the broad window-seat. Then came the orders-"Climb to the top of the shutter, Nils! Pass that rope round the upper hinge; tie it fast! Now the other rope on the lower hinge. Right! The same with the other ropes-bind them fast to the other shutter-hinges!"

Every order was promptly and skilfully obeyed.

"Nils, are you sure the boats are perfectly watertight?" said the mistress, with, for the first time, a shadow of anxiety in her determined face.

"Tight as a bottle!" was the immediate reply. "We had them filled with water for the last examination, to float the boats the children had made. The ships and such like were here, and the row-boats and canoes in the other."

"I saw them! I saw them all!" exclaimed a little chap, with great delight. "My brother had the prize for his ship, and he made it every bit himself." The eager memories that came to the minds of the children were chatted about with an intensity that made the boats of the moment to be almost for the time forgotten.

Now came the real launching of the boats. With a proper amount of drawing in and letting out and holding fast on the part of Nils and the teacher, the long boxes sat at last on the water like a pair of contented swans.

"Get down into the boat you are to be captain of, and I will hand down the oars for us both. Lay mine across my boat and yours across yours. Your passengers are to come down first. There will be four for each of us."

The little schoolmistress, putting on her coat and fur cap, backed up to one of her little girls, saying, "Put your arms round my neck, and you shall ride to the boat."

Two chubby arms went willingly round the neck of the teacher, as they had done many a time before on a less momentous occasion. So the little one, with her eyes away from the window, was backed up to it, to be lifted down by Nils with a merry shout as he landed the first passenger. The others followed in the same style, and all the eight were cheerily deposited in high good-humour.

"Now I'll come down, too," said the schoolmistress, and she came down the rope as if she were in a gymnasium. She took her place in the centre of her boat, with two delighted children before her and two more behind her.

"Cut loose, Nils! One rope as long as you can, and the other short up to the stern; and then give me your knife, and I'll do the same for mine. Now start, Nils! I'll follow."

The orders were rapidly given and promptly obeyed, and then the little party started across the watery stretch that had taken the place of the meadow.

Nils, with his strong arms, got on rapidly, and his boat was soon far in advance of the other. He neared the bank, plunged in and drew the uncertain little craft to the shore, and then as a sledge up the long slope.

Nils had before decided that he would deposit his passengers in a sheepfold high on the bank, where he had seen in the morning a window left open under the projecting roof to give the poor creatures a little air. He knew that in the corner by the window there was a great bin that had been freshly filled with dried birch branches as food for the sheep. He left the children looking down at the pretty lambs and their mothers, and ran back himself to see what he could do for the rest of the party.

The little mistress was only half-way over, and evidently managing with difficulty her awkward oars in the thick, snow-encumbered water through which she was making her way.

Nils plunged in, swam to her boat, tied the loose rope round his body, and then struck out for the shore, while the oars were plied as well as they could be by the weary hands that held them. His feet had just touched bottom when there was a loud cheer from the top of the hill that sloped down to the meadow. Two great wagons, with a pair of strong horses attached to each, were coming to the rescue of the children.

As horses that were good forders and wagons suited to the purpose were to be selected, some time had been lost in the preparations after the first news of the condition of the meadow had been spread abroad. The question now was how to get the whole party under roof as soon as possible.

The drivers were for putting the children half in one wagon and half in the other; but Nils said in a tone most unusual for him, "All the children must go in one wagon, and you will see them safe home, Petter. We go the other way where the road forks. Of course, I take the mistress home with me. Mother wouldn't forgive me if I let her go anywhere else; and I think I have a kind of right to her too!"

"That you have," said the rough man, with a kind of little quiver round his lips. "You've earned that right, anyhow."

And away Nils and the teacher were borne, while from the other wagon there was a merry "Good-bye! good-bye! good-bye, teacher! good-bye, Nils!" and a hearty shout of "Hurrah for Nils!" from the driver, which came from the very depths of Petter's honest heart.

* * *