"Good-night," said Mr. Tomkins. And off he went along the path, to
tell his wife, as he got into bed, that she was a lucky woman. But Mr.
Jeminy stood in the doorway, gazing out across the hills, like David
over Hebron. Below him the last late lanterns of the village burned in
the valley. He heard the shrill kreef kreedn kreedn of the tree frogs,
the cheep of crickets, the lonely barking of a dog, ghostly and far
away; he breathed the air of night, cold, and sweet with honeysuckle.
Age was in bed; only the young moved and whispered in the shadows;
youth, obscure and immortal; love and hope, love and sorrow. From the
meadows ascended the choir of cicada: katy did, katy didn't, katy
did. . . .

Mr. Jeminy turned and went indoors.




II

SCHOOL LETS OUT

The next day being a holiday, Mr. Jeminy lay in bed, watching, through
his window, the branches of an oak tree, which is last of all to leaf.
When he finally arose, the morning was already bright and hot; the
rooms were swept; all was in order.

Later in the day he followed Mrs. Grumble to the schoolhouse, carrying
a pail, soap, a scrubbing brush, and a broom. After Mr. Jeminy had
filled the pail with water at the school pump, Mrs. Grumble got down on