American Agriculturist, July 28,1923 
59 
The Brown Mouse — By Herbert Quick 
«<T DON’T see,” said a voice over against the cooking exhibit, “what there is in 
A this to set people talking? Buttonholes! Cookies! Humph!” 
It was Mrs. Bonner who had clearly come to scoff. With her was Mrs. Bron¬ 
son, who was torn between conflicting influences. Her husband had indicated 
to Bonner and Peterson that while he was still loyal to the school board, and 
hence perforce opposed to Jim Irwin, his adhesion to the institutions of the 
Woodruff District was not quite of the thick-and-thin type. For he had sug¬ 
gested that Jennie might have been sincere in her .decision, and that some people 
agreed with her: so Mrs. Bronson, while consorting with the censorious Mrs. 
Bonner evinced restiveness when the school and its work was condemned. Was 
not her Newton in charge of a part of this show? Was he not an open and 
defiant champion of Jim Irwin, and a constant and enthusiastic attendant upon, 
not only his classes, but a variety of evening and Saturday affairs at which 
the children studied arithmetic, grammar, geography, writing and spelling, by 
working on cows, pigs, chickens, grains, grasses, soils and weeds? And had not 
Newton become a better boy—a wonderfully better boy? Mrs. Bronson’s heart 
was filled with resentment that she also could not be enrolled among Jim Irwin’s 
supporters. And when Mrs. Bonner sneered at the buttonholes and cookies,. 
Mrs. Bronson, knowing how the little fingers had puzzled themselves over the one, 
and young faces had become floury- and red over the other, flared up a little. 
“And I don’t see,” said she, “any¬ 
thing to laugh at when the young girls 
do the best they can to make themselves 
capable housekeepers. I’d like to help 
them.” 
She turned to Mrs. Bonner as if to 
add “If this be treason, make the most 
of it!” but that lady was a good dip¬ 
lomat. 
“And quite right, too,” said she, “in 
the proper place, and at the proper time. 
The little things ought to be helped by 
every real woman—of course!” 
“Of course,” repeated Mrs. Bronson. 
“At home, now, and by their moth¬ 
ers,” added Mrs. Bonner. 
“Well,” said Mrs. Bronson, “take 
them Simms girls, now. They have to 
have help outside their home if they are 
ever going to be like other folks.” 
“Yes,” agreed Mrs. Bonner, “and a lot 
more help than a farm-hand can give 
’em in school. Pretty poor trash, they, 
and I shouldn’t wonder if there was a 
lot we don’t know about why they come 
north.’ 
“As for that,” replied Mrs. Bronson, 
“I don’t know as it’s any of my busi¬ 
ness so long as they behave them¬ 
selves.” 
A GAIN Mrs. Bonner felt the situ¬ 
ation getting out of hand, and 
again she returned to the task of keep¬ 
ing Mrs. Bronson in alignment. 
“Ain’t it some of our business?” she 
queried. “By the way Newtie keeps his 
eye on that Simms girl, I shouldn’t won¬ 
der if it might turn out your business.” 
“Pshaw!” scoffed Mrs. Bronson. 
“Puppy love!” 
“You can’t tell how far it’ll go,” per¬ 
sisted Mrs. Bonner. “I tell you these 
schools are getting to be nothing more 
than sparkin’ bees, from the county 
superintendent down.” 
“Well, maybe,” said Mrs. Bronson, 
“but I don’t see sparkin’ in everything 
boys and girls do as quick as some.” 
“I wonder,” said Mrs. Bonner, “if 
Colonel Woodruff would be as friendly 
to Jim Irwin if he knew that everybody 
says Jennie decided he was to keep his 
certif’kit because she wants him to get 
along in the world, so he can marry 
her?” 
“I don’t know as she is so very 
friendly to him,” replied Mrs. Bron¬ 
son; “and Jim and Jennie are both of 
age, you know.” 
“Yes, but how about our schools 
bein’ ruined by a love affair?” interro¬ 
gated Mrs. Bonner, as they moved 
away.' “Ain’t that your business and 
mine?” 
Instead of desiring further knowl¬ 
edge of what they were discussing, Jim 
felt a dreadful disgust at the whole 
thing. Disgust at being the subject of 
gossip, at the horrible falsity of the 
picture he had been able to paint to the 
people of his objects and his ambitions, 
and especially at the desecration of 
Jennie by such misconstruction of her 
attitude toward him officially and per¬ 
sonally. Jennie was vexed at him, and 
wanted him to resign from his position. 
He firmly believed that she was sur¬ 
prised at finding herself convinced that 
he was entitled to a decision in the 
matter of his competency as a teacher. 
’ She was against him, he believed, and 
as for her being in love with him—to 
hear these women discuss it was intol¬ 
erable. 
He felt his face redden as at the 
hearing of some horrible indecency, 
and while he was raging inwardly, 
he heard other voices. Professor 
Withers, County Superintendent Jennie 
and Colonel Woodruff were making an 
inspection of rural-school exhibit. 
“I hear he has been having some 
trouble with his school board,” the pro¬ 
fessor was saying. 
“Yes,” said Jennie, “he has.” 
“Wasn’t there an effort made to re¬ 
move him from his position?” asked the 
professor. , 
“Proceedings before me to revoke his 
certificate,” replied Jennie. 
“On what grounds?” 
“Incompetency,” answered Jennie. “I 
found that his pupils were really doing 
very well in the regular course of 
study—which he seems to be neglect¬ 
ing.” 
“I’m glad you supported him,” said 
the professor. “I’m glad to find you 
helping him.” 
“Really,” protested Jennie, “I don’t 
think myself—” 
“What do you think of his notions?” 
asked the colonel. 
“Very advanced,” replied Professor 
Withers. “Where did he imbibe them 
all?” 
“He’s a Brown Mouse,” said the 
colonel. 
“I beg your pardon!” said the puz¬ 
zled professor. 
“One of papa’s jokes,” said Jennie. 
“He means a phenomenon in heredity— 
perhaps a genius, you know.” 
“Ah, I. see,” replied the professor, “a 
Mendelian segregation, you mean?” 
“Certainly,” said the colonel. “The 
sort of mind that imbibes things from 
itself.” 
“Well, he’s rather wonderful,” de¬ 
clared the professor. “I have invited 
him to make an address at Ames next 
winter during farmers’ week.” 
“He?” 
J ENNIE’S tone showed her astonish¬ 
ment. Jim the underling. Jim the 
thorn in the county superintendent’s 
side! 
“Oh, you musn’t judge him by his 
looks,” said the professor. “I really do 
hope he’ll take some advice on the mat¬ 
ter of clothes—but I have no doubt he 
will.” 
“He hasn’t any other,” said the 
colonel. 
“Well, it won’t signify, if he has the 
truth to tell us,” said the professor. 
“Has he?” asked Jennie. 
“Miss Woodruff,” replied the profes¬ 
sor earnestly, “he has something that 
looks toward truth, and something that 
we need. Just how far he will go, just 
what he will amount to, it is impossible 
to say. You won’t make any mistake 
if you make the most of Mr. Irwin.” 
Jim slipped out of a side door and 
fled. As in the case of the conversa¬ 
tion between Mrs. Bronson and Mrs. 
Bonner, he was unable to discern the 
favorable auspices in adverse things. 
He had not sensed Mrs. Bronson’s half- 
concealed friendliness for him, though 
it was disagreeably plain to Mrs. 
Bonner. And now he neglected the 
colonel’s evident support of him, and 
Professor Withers’ praise, in Jennie’s 
manifest surprise that old Jim had a 
place on a college program, and the 
professor’s criticism of his dress and 
general appearance. 
It was unjust! What chance had he 
been given to discover what it was 
fashionable to wear, even if he had had 
the money to buy such clothes? He 
would never go near Ames! He would 
stay in the Woodruff District where 
the people knew him, and some of them 
liked him. He would finish his school 
year, and go back to work on the farm. 
He started home, on foot as he had 
come. A mile or so out he was over¬ 
taken by the colonel, driving briskly 
along with room in his buggy for Jim. 
“Climb in, Jim!” said he. “Dan and 
Dolly didn’t like to see you walk.” 
“They’re looking fine,” said Jim. 
There is a good deal to say whenever 
two horse lovers get together. But when 
Jim had alighted at his own door, the 
colonel spoke of what had been in his 
mind all the time. 
“I saw Bonner and Haakon and Ez 
doing some caucusing to-day,” said he. 
“They expect to elect Bonner to the 
board again.” 
“If the people want him—” began 
Jim. 
“The people,” said the colonel, “must 
have a choice offered to ’em, or how 
can you or any man tell what they 
want? How can they tell themselves?” 
J IM was silent. Here was a matter 
on which he really had no ideas ex¬ 
cept the broad and general one that 
truth is mighty and shall prevail—but 
that the speed of its forward march is 
problematical. 
“I think,” said the colonel, “that it’s 
up to us to see that the people have a 
chance' to decide. It’s really Bonner 
against Jim Irwin.” 
“That’s rather startling,” said Jim, 
“but I suppose it’s true. And much 
chance Jim Irwin has!” 
“I calculate,” rejoined the colonel, 
“that what you need is a champion.” 
“To do what?” 
“To take that office away from Bon- 
nGr.* } 
“Who can do that?*’ 
“Well, I’m free to say I don’t know 
that any one can, but I’m willing to 
try. I think that I shall pass the word 
around that I’d like to serve my country 
on the school board.” 
Jim’s face lighted up—and then 
darkened. • 
“Even then they’d be two to one, 
Colonel.” 
“Maybe,” replied the colonel, “and 
maybe not. That would have to be fig¬ 
ured on. A cracked log splits easy.” 
“Anyhow,” Jim went on, “what’s the 
use? I shan’t be disturbed this year— 
and after that—what’s the use?” 
“Why Jim,” said the colonel, “you 
aren’t getting short of breath are you? 
I thought you good for the mile, and 
you aren’t turning out a quarter horse, 
are you? I don’t know what all it is 
you want to do, but I don’t believe you 
can do it in nine months, can you?” 
“Not in nine years!” replied Jim. 
“Well then, let’s plan for ten years,” 
said the colonel. “I ain’t going to be¬ 
come a reformer at my time of life as a 
temporary job. Will you stick if we 
can swing the thing for you?” 
,“I will,” said Jim, in the manner of 
a person taking the vows in some solemn 
initiation. 
“All right,” said the colonel. “We’ll 
keep quiet and see how many votes we 
can muster up at the election. How 
many can you speak for?” 
Jim gave himself for a few minutes 
to thought. It was a new thing to him, 
this matter of mustering votes—and a 
thing which he had always looked upon 
as rather reprehensible. The citizen 
should go forth with no coercion, no 
persuasion, no suggestion, and vote his 
sentiments. 
“How many can you round up?” per¬ 
sisted the colonel. 
“I think,” said Jim, “that I can speak 
for myself and Old Man Simms!” 
The colonel laughed. 
“Fine politician!” he repeated. “Fine 
politician! Well, Jim, we may get 
beaten in this, but if we are, let’s not 
have them going away saying they’ve 
had no fight. You round up yourself 
and Old Man Simms and I’ll see what 
I can do—I’ll see what I can do!” 
CHAPTER XV 
A MINOR CASTS HALF A VOTE 
M ARCH was scarcely a week old 
before the wild ducks had begun 
to score the sky above Bronson’s Slew 
looking for open water and badly- 
harvested corn-fields. Wild geese, too, 
honked from on high as if in wonder 
that these great prairies on which their' 
forefathers had been wont fearlessly to 
alight had been changed into a disgust¬ 
ing expanse of farms. Colonel Wood¬ 
ruff’s hired man, Pete, had no such 
foolish notions, however. He stopped 
Newton Bronson and Raymond Simms 
as they tramped across the colonel’s 
pasture, gun in hand, trying to make 
themselves believe that the shooting 
was good. 
“This ain’t no country to hunt in,” 
said he. “Did either of you fellows 
ever have any real duck-shooting?” 
“The mountings,” said Raymond, “air 
poor places for ducks.” 
“Not big enough water,” suggested 
Pete. “Some wood-ducks, I suppose?” 
“Along the creeks and rivers, yes, 
seh,” said Raymond, “but nothing to 
depend on.” 
“I used to shoot ducks for the market 
at Spirit Lake,” said Pete. “But that’s 
all over, now. You’ve got to go so fur 
now to get decent shooting where the 
farmers won’t drive you off, that it 
costs nine dollars to send a postcard 
home.” 
“I think we’ll have fine shooting on 
the slew in a few days,” said Newton. 
“Humph!” scoffed Pete. “I give you 
my word, if I hadn’t promised the 
colonel I’d stay with him another year, 
I’d take a side-door Pullman for the 
Sand Hills of Nebraska—if I had a 
gun.” 
“If it wasn’t for a passel of things 
that keep me hyeh,” said Raymond, “I’d 
like to go loo.” 
“The colonel,” said Pete, “needs me. 
He needs me in the election to-morrow. 
What’s the matter of your ol’ man, 
Newt? What for does he vote for that 
Bonner, and throw down an old neigh¬ 
bor?” 
“I can’t do anything with him!” ex¬ 
claimed Newton irritably. “He’s all 
tangled up with Peterson and Bonner.” 
“Well,” said Pete, “if he'd just stay 
at home, it would help some. If he 
votes for Bonner, it’ll be just about a 
stand-off.” 
“He never misses a vote!” said New¬ 
ton despairingly. 
“Can’t you cripple him someway?” 
asked Pete jocularly. “Darned funny 
when a boy o’ your age can’t control 
his father’s vote! So long!” 
“I wish I could vote!” grumbled 
Newton. “I wish I could! We know a 
lot more about the school, and Jim 
Irwin bein’ a good teacher than dad 
does—and we can’t vote. Why can’t 
folks vote when they are interested in 
an election, and know about the issues. 
It’s tyranny that you and I can’t vote.” 
“I reckon,” said Raymond, the con¬ 
servative, “that the old-time people that 
fixed it thataway knowed best.” 
“Rats!” sneered Newton, “Why, 
Calista knows more about the election 
than dad knows.” 
“That don’t seem reasonable,” pro¬ 
tested Raymond. “She’s prejudyced, I 
reckon, in favor of Mr. Jim Irwin.” 
“Well, dad’s prejudiced against him 
—no, he hain’t either. He likes Jim. 
He’s just prejudiced against giving up 
his old notions. No, he hain’t neither— 
(Continued on page 61) 
TO REMIND YOU OF WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE 
J IM IRWIN has been vindicated. His school passed triumphantly in 
the very subjects he had been accused of neglecting for “new-fangled 
notions.” 
But the enmity of the schoolboard, particularly of Irish Con Bonner, 
must still be reckoned with. His enemies as well as his friends turn 
out for the Farmer’s Institute, at which Woodruff District school has 
exhibits and a demonstration of their work. Outsiders begin to be in¬ 
terested and Jim is cheered by an invitation to speak at the Agricultural 
College, when he is again dashed by a snub from his own board. 
