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137
The Solitary Summer
·
Elizabeth Von Arnim
85
Afternoon
school
was
going
on,
and
the
assistant
teacher
was
making
the
children
read
aloud
in
turns.
In
winter,
when
they
would
be
glad
of
a
warm,
roomy
place
in
which
to
spend
their
afternoons,
school
is
only
in
the
morning;
and
in
summer,
when
the
thirstiest
after
knowledge
are
apt
to
be
less
keen,
it
is
both
morning
and
afternoon.
The
arrangement
is
so
mysterious
that
it
must
be
providential.
Herr
Schenk,
the
head
master,
was
away
giving
my
babies
their
daily
lessons,
and
his
assistant,
a
youth
in
spectacles
but
yet
of
pugnacious
aspect,
was
sitting
in
the
master's
desk,
exercising
a
pretty
turn
for
sarcasm
in
his
running
comments
on
the
reading.
A
more
complete
waste
of
breath
and
brilliancy
can
hardly
be
imagined.
He
is
not
yet,
however,
married,
and
marriage
is
a
great
chastener.
The
children
all
stood
up
when
I
came
in,
and
the
teacher
ceased
sharpening
his
wits
on
a
dulness
that
could
not
feel,
and
with
many
bows
put
a
chair
for
me
and
begged
me
to
sit
on
it.
I
did
sit
on
it,
and
asked
that
they
might
go
on
with
the
lesson,
as
I
had
only
come
in
for
a
minute
on
my
way
down
the
street.
The
reading
was
accordingly
resumed,
but
unaccompanied
this
time
by
sarcasms.
What
faces!
What
dull,
apathetic,
low,
coarse
faces!
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