time to begin."

She led Betsy into a low-ceilinged room with geraniums at the windows,
where about a dozen children of different ages sat behind their desks.
At the first sight of them Betsy blushed crimson with fright and
shyness, and hung down her head; but, looking out the corners of her
eyes, she saw that they, too, were all very red-faced and scared-looking
and hung down their heads, looking at her shyly out of the corners of
their eyes. She was so surprised by this that she forgot all about
herself and looked inquiringly at the teacher.

"They don't see many strangers," the teacher explained, "and they feel
very shy and scared when a new scholar comes, especially one from the
city."

"Is this my grade?" asked Elizabeth, thinking it the very smallest grade
she had ever seen.

"This is the whole school," said the teacher. "There are only two or
three in each class. You'll probably have three in yours. Miss Ann said
you were in the third grade. There, that's your seat."

Elizabeth sat down before a very old desk, much battered and hacked up
with knife marks. There was a big H. P. carved just over the inkwell,
and many other initials scattered all over the top.

The teacher stepped back to her desk and took up a violin that lay
there. "Now, children, we'll begin the afternoon session by singing
'America,'" she said. She played the air over a little very sweetly and
stirringly, and then as the children stood up she came down close to