American Agriculturist, July 14,1923 
27 
The Brown Mouse — By Herbert Quick 
tt 
- (For a synopsis of preceding issues, see page 28) 
A ND do you think,” queried Jim, “that my abandonment of the things in 
.which I believe in the face of this attack would prove to your mind that I 
am competent? Or would it show me incompetent?” 
Again Jennie was silent. 
“I guess,” said Jim, “that we’ll have to stand or fall on things as they are.” 
“Do you refuse to resign?” asked Jennie 
“Sometimes I think it’s not worth while to try any longer,” said Jim. 
“And yet, I believe that in my way I’m working on the question which must 
be solved if this nation is '‘to stand—the question of making the farm and farm 
life what they should be and may well be. I’ll have to think about it. Sup¬ 
pose I refuse to resign?” 
Jennie had drawn on her gloves, and stood ready for departure. 
“Unless you resign before the twenty-fifth,” said she, ’“I shall hear the peti¬ 
tion for your removal on that date. You will be allowed to be present and 
answer the charges against you. The charges are incompetency. I bid you 
good evening!” 
“Incompetency!” The disgraceful 
word, representing everything he had 
always despised, rang through Jim’s 
mind as he walked home. He could 
think of nothing else as he sat at the 
simple supper which he could scarcely 
taste. Well, had he not always been 
incompetent, except in the use of his 
muscles? Were not all his dreams as 
foreign to life and common sense as 
the Milky Way from the earth? What 
reason was there for thinking that this 
crusade of his for better schools had 
any sounder foundation than his dream 
of being president, or a poet or novel¬ 
ist or philosopher? He was just a hay¬ 
seed, a rube, a misfit, as odd as Dick’s 
hatband, an off ox. He was incompe¬ 
tent. He picked up a pen, and began 
writing. He wrote, “To the Honorable 
the Board of Education of the Inde¬ 
pendent District of-” And he 
heard a tap at the door. His mother 
admitted Colonel Woodruff. 
“Hello, Jim,” said he. 
“Good evening. Colonel,” said Jim. 
“Take a chair, won’t you?” 
“No,” replied the colonel. “I thought 
I’d see if you and the boys at the 
schoolhouse can’t tell me something 
about the smut in my wheat. I heard 
you were going to work on that to¬ 
night.” 
“I had forgotten!” said Jim. 
“I wondered if you hadn’t,” said the 
colonel, “and so I came by for you. I 
was waiting up the road. Come on, 
and ride up with me.” 
be with them at the finish; and, by 
thunder! while they’re getting a full 
meal, we’ll get at least a lunch. See?” 
“But Jennie says,” began Jim. 
“T)on’t tell me what she says,” said 
the colonel. “She’s acting according to 
her judgment, and her lights and other 
organs of perception, and I don’t think 
it fittin’ that her father should try to 
influence her official conduct. But you 
go on and review them common 
branches, and keep your nerve. I 
haven’t felt so much like a scrap since 
the day we stormed Lookout Mountain. 
I kinder like being a wild-eyed re¬ 
former, Jim.” 
CHAPTER XIII 
FAME OR NOTORIETY 
T HE office of county superintendent 
v 
T HE colonel had always been friendly, 
but there was a new note in his man¬ 
ner to-night. If he had been talking 
to the president of the state university, 
his tone could not have been more 
courteous. He worked with the class on 
the problem of smut. He offered to aid 
the boys in every possible way in their 
campaign against scab in potatoes. He 
suggested some tests which would show 
the real value of the treatment. The 
boys were in a glow of pride at this 
cooperation with Colonel Woodruff. 
This was real work! Jim and the colo¬ 
nel went away together. It had been a 
great evening. 
“Jim,” said the colonel, “can these 
kids spell?” 
“I think,” said Jim, “that they can 
outspell any school about here.” 
“How about arithmetic and the other 
branches? Have you sort of kept them 
up to the course of study?” 
“I have carried them in a course par¬ 
allel to the text-books,” said Jim, “and 
covering the same ground. But it has 
been vocational work, you know—re¬ 
lated to life.” 
“Well,” said the colonel, “if I were 
you, I’d put them over a rapid review 
of the text-books for a few days—say 
between now and the twenty-fifth.” 
“What for?” 
“Oh, nothing-just to please me. 
. . . And say, Jim, I glanced over a 
communication you have started to the 
more or less Honorable Board of Edu¬ 
cation.” 
“Yes?” 
“Well, don’t finish it. . . . And say, 
Jim, I think I’ll give myself the luxury 
of being a wild-eyed reformer for 
once.” 
“Yes,” said Jim, dazed. 
“And if you think, Jim, that you’ve 
got no friends, just remember that I’m 
for you.” 
“Thank you, Colonel.” 
“And we’ll show them they’re in a 
horse race.” 
“I don’t see. . . ” said Jim. 
“You’re not supposed to see,” said 
the colonel, “but you can bet that we’ll 
nine fifty-nine Raymond Simms opened 
the office door and there filed in enough 
children, large and small, some of them 
accompanied by their parents, and all 
belonging to the Woodruff school, to 
fill completely the corners and angles 
of the room. In addition there re¬ 
mained an overflow meeting in the hall, 
under the command of that distin¬ 
guished military gentleman, Colonel 
Albert Woodruff. 
“Say Bill, come here!” said the col¬ 
onel, crooking his finger‘at the deputy 
sheriff. 
“What you got here, Al!” said Bill, 
coming up the stairs, puffing. “Ain’t 
it a little early for Sunday-school 
picnics?” 
“This is a school fight in our dis¬ 
trict,” said the colonel. “It’s Jennie’s 
baptism of fire, I reckon . . . and say, 
you’re not using the court room, are 
you?” 
“Nope,” said Bill. 
“YI JELL, why not just slip around, 
VV t " ■•. 
acted upon 
was, as a matter of .course, the least 
desirable room of the court-house. It 
opened off the central hall at the upper 
end of the stairway which led to the 
court room, and when court was in 
session, served as a jury room. At 
such times the county superintendent’s 
desk was removed to the hall, where it 
stood in a confusing but very demo¬ 
cratic publicity. Superintendent 
Jennie might have anticipated the time 
when offenders passing from the county 
jail in the basement to arraignment 
at the bar of justice might be able to 
peek over her shoulders and criticize 
her method of treating examination 
papers. On the twenty-fifth of Feb¬ 
ruary, however, this experience lurked 
unsuspected in her official future. 
Poor Jennie! She anticipated noth¬ 
ing more • than the appearance of 
Messrs. Bronson, Peterson and Bonner 
in her office to confront Jim Irwin. At 
nine forty-five Cornelius Bonner, and 
his wife entered the office, and took 
twenty-five per cent of the chairs 
therein. At nine fifty Jim Irwin 
came in, haggard, weather-beaten and 
seedy as ever, and looked as if he had 
neither eaten nor slept since his sweet¬ 
heart stabbed him. At nine fifty-five 
Haakon Peterson and Ezra Bronson 
came in, accompanied by Wilbur 
Smythe, attorney-at-law, who carried 
under his arm a code of Iowa, a com¬ 
pilation of the school laws of the State, 
and Throop on Public Officers. At 
nine fifty-six, therefore, the crowd in 
Jennie’s office exceeded its seating 
capacity, and Jennie was in a flutter 
as the realization dawned upon her 
that this promised to be a more public 
affair than she had anticipated. At 
then,” said the colonel, “and tell 
Jennie she’d better adjourn to the big 
room.” 
Which suggestion was 
instanter by Deputy Bill. 
“But I can’t, I can’t,” said Jennie. 
“I don’t want all this publicity, and I 
don’t want to go into the court room.” 
“I hardly see,” said Deputy Bill, 
“how you can avoid it. These people 
seem to have business with you, and 
they can’t get into your office.” 
“But they have no business with me,” 
said Jennie. “It’s mere curiosity.” 
Whereupon Wilbur Smythe,_ who 
could see no particular point in re¬ 
stricted publicity, said, “Madame 
County Superintendent, this hearing 
certainly is public or quasi-public. 
Your office is a public one, and the 
right to attend this hearing surely is 
one belonging to every citizen and tax¬ 
payer of the county, and if the tax¬ 
payer, qua taxpayer, then certainly a 
fortiori to the members of the Wood¬ 
ruff school and residents of that dis¬ 
tricts” 
Jennie quailed. “All right, all 
right!” said she. “But, shall I have 
to sit on the bench!” 
“You will find it by far the most 
convenient place,” said Deputy Bill. 
Was this the life to which public 
office had brought her? Was it for 
this that she had bartered her inde¬ 
pendence—for this and the musty 
office, the stupid examination papers, 
and the interminable visiting of schools, 
knowing that such supervision as she 
could give was practically worthless? 
Here was she, called upon to pass on 
the competency of the man who had 
always been her superior in everything 
that constitutes mental ability. And 
that crowd! To Jennie it was appalling. 
The school board under the lead of 
Wilbur Smythe took seats inside the 
railing which on court days divided 
the audience from the lawyers and liti¬ 
gants. Jim Irwin, who had never 
been in a court room before, herded 
with the crowd, but to Jennie, seated 
on the bench, he, like other persons in 
the auditorium, was a mere blurry out¬ 
line with a knob of a head on its top. 
She couldn’t call the gathering to 
order. She had no idea as to the proper 
procedure. She sat there while the 
people gathered, stood about whisper¬ 
ing and talking under their breaths, 
and finally became silent, all their eyes 
fixed on her. 
“May it please the court,” said 
Wilbur Smythe, standing before the 
bar. “Or, Madame County Superin¬ 
tendent, I should say . . .” 
A titter ran through the room, and 
a flush of temper tinted Jennie’s face. 
They were laughing at her! She 
wouldn’t be a spectacle any. longer! 
So she rose, and handed down her 
first and last decision from the bench. 
“Mr. Smythe,” said she, “I feel very 
ill at ease up here, and I’m going to 
get down among the people. It’s the 
only way I have of getting the truth.” 
She descended from the bench, shook 
hands with everybody near her, and 
sat down by the attorney’s table. 
“Now, said she, “this is no formal 
proceeding and we will dispense with 
red tape. Where’s Mr. Irwin? Please 
come in here, Jim. Now, I know thei'e’s 
some feeling in these things—there 
always seems to be; but I have none. 
So I’ll just hear why Mr. Bronson, Mr. 
Peterson and Mr. Bonner think that 
Mr. James E. Irwin isn’t competent 
to hold a certificate.” 
Jennie was able to smile at them 
now, and everybody felt more at ease, 
save Jim Irwin, the members of the 
board and Wilbur Smythe. That in¬ 
dividual arose, and talked down at 
Jennie. 
“I appear for the proponents here,” 
said he, “and I desire to suggest cer¬ 
tain principles of procedure which I 
take it, belong indisputably to the 
conduct of this hearing.” 
“Have you a lawyer?” asked the 
county superintendent of the respon¬ 
dent. 
“A what?” exclaimed Jim. “Nobody 
here has a lawyer!” 
“Well, what do you call Wilbur 
Smythe?” queried Newton Bronson 
from the midst of the crowd. 
“He ain’t lawyer enough to hurt!” 
said the thing which the dramatists 
call A Voice. 
The Woodruff District School in Session 
T HERE was a little tempest of laugh¬ 
ter at Wilbur Smythe’s expense, 
which was quelled by Jennie’s rapping 
on the table. 
“I have no way of retaining a 
lawyer,” said Jim, on whom the truth 
had gradually dawned. “If a lawyer 
is necessary, I am without protection— 
but it never occurred to me . . .” 
“There is nothing in the school laws, 
as I remember them,” said Jennie, 
“giving the parties any right to be rep¬ 
resented by counsel. If there is, Mr. 
Smythe will please set me right.” 
She paused for Mr. Smythe’s reply. 
“There is nothing which expressly 
gives that privilege,” said'Mr. Smythe, 
“but the right to the benefit of skilled 
advisers is a universal one. And in 
opening this case for my clients, I de¬ 
sire to call your honor’s attention—” 
“You may advise your clients all 
you please,” said Jennie, “but I’m not 
going to waste time in listening to 
speeches, or having a lot of lawyers ex¬ 
amine witnesses.” 
“I protest,” said Mr. Smythe. 
“Well, you may file your protest in 
writing,” said Jennie. “I’m going to 
talk this matter over with these old 
friends and neighbors of mine. I don’t 
want you dipping into it, I say!” 
Jennie’s voice was rising toward the 
scream-line, and Mr. Smythe recog- 
nized’the hand of fate. One may argue 
with a cantankerous judge, but the 
woman, who like necessity, knows no 
law, and who is smothering in a flood 
of perplexities, is beyond reason. More¬ 
over, Jennie dimly saw that what she 
was doing had the approval of the 
crowd, and it solved the problem of 
procedure. 
There was a little wrangling, and a 
little protest from Con Bonner, but 
Jennie ruled with a rod of iron, and 
adhered to her ruling. When the hear¬ 
ing was resumed after the noon recess, 
the crowd was larger than ever, but the 
proceedings consisted mainly in a con¬ 
ference of the principals grouped about 
Jennie at the big lawyers’ table. The 
only new thing was the presence of a 
couple of newspaper men, who had 
(Continued on page 28) 
