THE REFORMATION OF MARY HOG AN 191 



some even left their seats and stood about her. Just as Miss 

 Lacy appeared in the doorway, the girl picked up a bottle of ink, 

 and poured it all over Will's head. The rivulets of black ink 

 coursing down the boy's light hair and over his face, presented 

 an appearance so ludicrous, that Josephine Lacy dodged back 

 into the cloakroom to recover from the fit of uncontrollable laugh- 

 ter that seized her. 



Even the funny things that had happened did not appear araus- 

 ing to her now. "What unnatural children they are," she said 

 half aloud, supporting her aching head on her hand. "They are 

 doing everything in their power to make me leave. They got 

 rid of five teachers last year, and they're quite openly boasting 

 that they are going to do a better job this year. I can't remember 

 that I ever liked to see anyone cry, but Miss Knott tells me that 

 they used to boast of the number of times they made their teacher 

 cry in a day. I'll not cry for them, at least I'll never let them see 

 me do it." 



While she mediated, it began to grow dusk. For some reason, 

 words that she had heard her father utter came to her, "No child 

 should ever be brought up without living things for companions, 

 if they are to develop character. I mean pets to care for and 

 plants to rear and watch grow." 



"It's all right to talk about bringing children up with a knowl- 

 edge of nature, surroimded as we have always been, but here — " 

 Josephine Lacy laughed bitterly as she rose and went to the 

 window to look out. Factories, shops, tenement houses, rail- 

 road tracks and street-car lines were all that she could see as far 

 as her eye could reach. The school yard could not boast of 

 even a single blade of grass; gravel had been placed in front of 

 the building and cinders in the rear. Two struggling sycamores 

 were the only trees in the region, that has withstood the dust 

 and smoke. The only things that were holding their own, in 

 spite of adverse conditions, were the weeds in a nearby vacant lot. 



"Poor old dad, he did not dream that children were ever brought 

 up in a neighborhood like this, I guess. What wouldn't I give 

 though, to have him here to advise me in this present crisis." 



In spite of herself, the words of her father haunted her. She 

 went home to dinner, and tried to forget her trouble, but again 

 and again she found herself pondering the effects that the study 

 of nature has upon the formation of character. "If father is 



