182 
American Agriculturist, September 15,1923 
The Brown Mouse 
By Herbert Quick 
A ND so it turned out quite as if it were in the old ballad, that “all in the 
. merry month of May,” there were great doings about the bold little promon¬ 
tory where once stood the cabin on the old wood-lot where the 'Simms family had 
dwelt. The brook ran about the promontory, and laid at its feet on three" sides 
a carpet of blue-grass, amid clumps of trees and wild bushes. 
But Old Man Simms was gone, with all the Simmses, now thoroughly estab¬ 
lished on the Blanchard farm, and quite happy in their new success. The cabin 
was gone, and in its place stood a pretty little bungalow, about which blossomed 
the lilacs, and peonies, and roses, and other old-fashioned flowers, planted there 
long ago by some pioneer woman, nourished back to thriftiness by old Mrs. 
Simms, and carefully preserved during the struggles with the builders of the 
bungalow by Mrs. Irwin. For this was Mrs. Irwin’s new home. It was, in point 
of fact, the teacher’s house or schoolmanse for the new consolidated Woodruff 
District, and the old Simms wood-lot was the glebe-land of the schoolmanse. 
From the brow of the promontory, a light concrete bridge took the pretty little 
gorge in the leap of a single arch, and landed the eye at the bottom of the front 
yard of the schoolhouse. Thus the new institution of life was in full view of 
the schoolmanse veranda, and. yet shut off from it by the dry moat of the brook 
and its tiny meadow of blue-grass. 
By this time it was nearly seven, 
and Calista Simms came across the 
charmed bridge as a despatch-bearer, 
saying that if Mr. Jim and Miss Jennie 
didn’t mind, dinner would be suhved 
right soon. It was cooked about right, 
and the folks was gettin’ right hun¬ 
gry—an’ such a crowd! There were 
fifteen in the babies’ room, and for a 
while they thought the youngest Hamm 
young one had swallowed a marble. 
She would tell ’em they would be right 
over; good-by. 
The three elderly and the two young 
people emerged from the schoolmanse 
and took their way over the bridge to 
the school side of the velvet-hottomed 
moat. Then came a sudden rush into 
the big assembly-room, now filled with 
tables for the banquet—and here the 
domestic economy classes, with their 
Across the road was ■ the creamery, 
with its businesslike unloading plat¬ 
form, and its addition in process of 
construction for the reception of the 
machinery for the cooperative laundry. 
Not far from the creamery, and also 
across the road, stood the blacksmith 
and wheelwright shop. Still farther 
down the stream were the barn, poultry 
house, pens, hutches and yards of the 
little farm—small, economically made, 
and unpretentious, as were all the 
buildings save the schoolhouse itself, 
which was builded for the future. 
And even the schoolhouse, when one 
thinks of the uses to which it was to 
be put—kitchen, nursery, kindergarten, 
banquet-hall, theatre, moving-picture 
hall, class-rooms, manual training 
rooms, laboratory and counting-room 
and what-not, was wonderfully small 
—Colonel Woodruff said far too small 
—though it was necessarily so large as 
to be rather astonishing to the unex¬ 
pectant passer-by. 
T HE unexpectant passer-by this May 
day, however, would have been es¬ 
pecially struck by the number of motor¬ 
cars, buggies and surreys parked in 
the yard back of the creamery, along 
the roadside, and by the driveway run¬ 
ning to the schoolhouse. People in 
numbers had arrived by five o’clock in 
in the afternoon, and were still com¬ 
ing. They strolled about the place, ex¬ 
amining the buildings and grounds, 
and talking with the blacksmith and 
the butter-maker, gradually drawing 
into the schoolhouse like a swarm of 
bees into a hive selected by the queen. 
None of them, however, went across 
the concrete bridge to the school¬ 
manse, save Mrs. Simms, who crossed, 
consulted with Mrs. Irwin about the 
shrubbery and flowers, and went back 
to Buddie and Jinnie, who were good 
children but natehally couldn’t be 
trusted with so many other young ones 
withouten some watchin’. 
“They’re coming! They’re coming!” For everything went off like clock- 
This was the cry borne to the people work, especially the victuals—and such 
in and about the schoolhouse by that victuals! 
Hans Hansen who would be called There was quantity in meats, breads, 
ably not quite fair for B. B. Hamm 
to incorporate in his wishes for the 
welfare and prosperity and so forth 
of Jim and Jennie that stale one about 
the troubles of life, but he wanted 
to see Jennie blush—which as a matter 
of fact he did; but she failed to grow 
quite so fiery red as did Jim. But B. 
B. was a good fellow, and a Trojan 
in his work for the cause, and the 
schoolmaster and superintendent of 
schools forgave him. 
Colonel Woodruff made most of the 
above points which I have filched from 
him. He had begun as a reformer late 
in life, he said, but he would leave it 
to them if he hadn’t worked at the 
trade steadily after enlistment. He 
had become a follower of Jim Irwin, 
because Jim’s reform was like drag¬ 
ging the road in front of your own 
farm—it was reform right "at home, 
and not at the county seat, or Des 
Moines, or Washington. He had fol¬ 
lowed Jim Irwin as he had followed 
Lincoln, and Grant, and Blaine, and 
McKinley—because Jim Irwin stood 
for more upward growth for the aver¬ 
age American citizen than the colonel 
could see any prospect of getting from 
any other choice. And he was proud 
to live in a country like this, saved 
and promoted by the great men he had 
followed, and in a neighborhood served 
and promoted, if not quite saved, by 
Jim Irwin. And he was not so sure 
about its not being saved. Every man 
and nation had to be saved anew every 
so often, and the colonel believed that 
Jim Irwin’s new kind of rural school 
is just as necessary to the salvation 
THE BROAD HIGHWAY—By Jeffery Farnol 
It Starts on This Page Next Week — Don’t Lose a Single Number! 
17 VERYBODY has felt its lure — that open, friendly road that winds on out 
of sight and takes the venturesome traveler into who-knows-what perils 
and delights! 
Jeffery Farnol’s romance of the dashing young London lad cast by a turn of 
fortune’s wheel to seek his fortune on “the broad highway” appeals to the gypsy 
in all of us. Whether he writes of stirring adventure or the placid, homey 
wayside life of country England, the author carries the reader along with him 
into every situation which confronts the likeable young hero. 
This is a tale for all the family. Young and old alike will thrill to its inci¬ 
dents of chivalry, danger and romance. It starts next week. Don’t miss an 
issue and save your copies, for it is a story you will want to read not once but 
many times over. 
mothers, sisters, female cousins and 
aunts, met them, as waiters, hat- 
snatchers, hostesses, floor-managers 
and cooks, scoring the greatest triumph 
of history in the Woodruff District. 
Hans Nilsen. Like a crew manning 
the rigging, or a crowd having its pic¬ 
ture taken, the assemblage crystallized 
into forms determined by the chances 
vegetables—and there was also savor. 
There was plenty, and there was 
style. Ask Mrs. Haakon Peterson, who 
yearned for culture, and had been 
of getting a glimpse of the bungalow afraid her children wouldn’t get it if 
across the ravine—on posts, fences, Yim Irwin taught them nothing but 
trees and hillocks. Still nobody went farming. She will tell you that the 
across the bridge, and when McGeehee dinner—which so many thought of all 
Simms and Johnny Bonner strayed to the time as supper—was just as well 
the bridge-head, Mrs. Simms called served as if it had been in the Cham- 
them back by a minatory, “Buddy, berlain Hotel in Des Moines, where 
what did I tell you? You come hyah!” she had stayed when she went with 
A motor-car came over the hillock, Haakon to the State convention, 
ran down the road to the driveway to 
the schoolmanse and drew up at the 
door. Out of it stepped Mrs. Wood¬ 
ruff and the colonel, their daughter, 
and Mr. Jim Irwin. Jennie was 
dressed in a very well-tailored travel¬ 
ing costume, and Jim in a moderately 
well-tailored business suit. Mrs. Ir¬ 
win kissed her son and Jennie, and led 
the way into the house. Jennie and Jim 
followed—and when they went in, the 
crowd over across the ravine burst 
forth into a tremendous cheer, foljowed 
by a three-times-three and a tiger. 
W HY shouldn’t it have been even bet¬ 
ter served? It was planned, cooked, 
served and eaten by people of intelli¬ 
gence and brains, in their own house, 
as a community affair, and in a com¬ 
munity whei’e, if any one should ask 
you, you are authorized to state that 
there’s as much wealth to the acre as in 
any strictly farming spot between the 
two oceans, and where you are perfectly 
safe—financially—in dropping from a 
balloon in the dark of the moon, and 
paying a hundred and fifty dollars an 
The unexpectant passer-by would have acre for any farm you happen to land 
been rather surprised at this, but we on. Why shouldn’t things have been 
must all begin to have our suspicions, •well done, when every one worked, not 
The fact that when they reached the for money, but for the love of the do- 
threshold Jim picked Jennie up in his ing, and the love of learning to do in 
arms and carried her in, will enable the best way? 
any good detective to put one and one Some of these things came out in the 
together and make a pair—which speeches following the repast—and 
comes pretty near telling the story. some other things, too. It was prob- 
of this country as Lincoln’s new kind 
of recognition of human rights was 
half a century ago. “I am about to 
close my speech,” said the colonel, “and 
the small service I have been able to 
give to this nation. I went through 
the war, neighbors—and I am proud of 
it; but I’ve done more good in the 
peaceful service'of the last three years 
than I did in four of fighting and cam¬ 
paigning. That’s the way I feel about 
what we’ve done in Consolidated Dis¬ 
trict Number One.” (Vociferous and 
long-continued applause.) 
“Oh, Colonel!” The voice of Angie 
Talcott rose from away back near the 
kitchen. “Can Jennie keep on bein’ 
county superintendent, now she’s mar¬ 
ried?” 
A great guffaw of laughter reduced 
poor Angie to tears; and Jennie had 
to go over and comfort her. It was 
all right for her to ask that, and they 
ought not to laugh at Angie, so there! 
Jennie brought the smiles back to 
Angie's face, just in time to hear Jim 
tell the people amid louder cheers 
that he had been asked to go into the 
rural-school extension work in two 
States, and had been offered a fine sal¬ 
ary in either place, but that he wasn’t 
even considering these offers. And 
about that time, the children began to 
get sleepy and cross and naughty, and 
the women set im-motion the agencies 
which moved the crowd homeward. 
Before a bright wood fire—which 
they really didn’t need, but how 
else was Jim’s mother to show off the 
little fireplace?—sat Jim and Jennie. 
They had been together for a week 
now—this being their homecoming— 
and had only begun to get really 
happy. 
“Isn’t it fine to have the fireplace?” 
said Jennie. 
“Yes, but we can’t really afford to 
burn a fire in it—in Iowa,” said Jim. 
“Fuel’s too everlastingly scarce. If we 
use it much, the fagots and deadwood 
on our ‘glebe-land’ won’t last long.” 
“If you should take that Oklahoma 
position,” said Jennie, “we could afford 
to have open wood fires all the time.” 
“It’s warmer in Oklahoma,” said 
Jim, “and wood’s more plentiful. Yes” 
—contemplatively—“we could, dear.” 
“It would be nice, wouldn’t it?” said 
Jennie. 
“All right,” said Jim briskly, “get 
me my writing materials, and we’ll ac¬ 
cept. It’s still open.” 
Jennie sat looking into the fire ob¬ 
livious of the suggestion. She was 
smiling. Jim moved uneasily, and rose. 
“Well,” he said, “I believe I can bet¬ 
ter guess where mother would put 
those writing materials than you could, 
after all. I’ll hunt them up.” 
A S he passed, Jennie took him by the 
. hand and pulled him down on the 
arm of her chair. 
“Jim,” she said, “don’t be mean to 
me! You know you wouldn’t do such 
a wicked, wicked thing at this time as 
to leave the people here.” 
“All right,” said Jim, “whatever you 
say is the law.” 
When Jennie spoke again things had 
taken place which caused her voice to 
emanate from Jim’s shirt-front. 
“Did you hear,” said she, “what 
Angie Talcott asked?” 
“M’h’m,” said Jim. 
“Well,” said Jennie, “now that I’m 
married can I go on being county su¬ 
perintendent?” 
There was a long silence. 
“Would you like to?” asked Jim. 
“Kind of,” said Jennie; “if I knew 
enough about things to do anything 
worth while; but I’m afraid that by 
-rising to my full height I shall always 
just fail to be able to see over any¬ 
thing.” 
“You’ve done more for the schools 
of the county,” said Jim, “in the last 
year than any other county superin¬ 
tend has ever done.” 
“And we shall need the money so 
like—so like -the dickens,” said Jennie. 
“Oh, not so badly,” laughed Jim, 
“except for the first year. I’ll have 
this little farm paying as much as 
some quarter-sections when we get 
squared about. Why, we can make a 
living on this school farm, Jennie—or 
I’m not fit to be the head of the school.” 
There was another silence, during 
which Jennie took down her hair, and 
wound it around Jim’s neck. 
“It will settle itself soon one of 
these days anyhow,” said he at last. 
“There’s enough to do for both of us 
right here.” 
J IM walked to the open window and 
looked out over the still landscape. 
The untidy grounds appealed to him— 
there would be lessons in their im¬ 
provement for both the children and 
the older people. It was all good. 
Across the pretty bridge lay the silent 
little campus with its twentieth-cen¬ 
tury temple facing its chief priest. It 
was all good, without and within. He 
went across the hall to bid his mother 
good night. She clung to him convul¬ 
sively, and they had their own five min¬ 
utes which arranged matters for these 
two silent natures on the new basis 
forever. Jennie was in white before 
the mantel when he returned, smiling 
at the inscription thereon. 
“Why didn’t you put it in Latin?” 
she inquired. “It would have had so 
much more distinction.” 
“I wanted it to have meaning in¬ 
stead,” said Jim. “And besides, no¬ 
body who was at hand was quite sure 
how to turn the Latin phrase. Are 
you?” 
Jennie learned forward with her el¬ 
bows on her knees, and studied it. 
“I believe I could,” said she, “with¬ 
out any pony. But after all, 1 like it 
better as it is. I like everything, Jim 
—everything!” 
“Let us cease thinking so much of 
agricultural education, and devote our¬ 
selves to educational agriculture. So 
unll the nation be made strove.’’ 
THE END 
