In the fall and spring the school was taught by different young ladies, who were much to be pitied. In the winter it was taught by a man--for some years by a man named Pollock, who had ideas. When the school became very unruly he flung the bell on the floor to produce silence. It was a large yellow-colored bell. When it was rung, the sound of it was as the sound of lamentation, and when it was flung on the floor it made us think of a number of funerals all mixed up. Mr. Pollock also taught algebra to those whom he thought deserved it; that was his idea of rewarding merit. It seemed to us that his idea was wrong.
But this story which I have to tell is not about the school in general, but a particular story intended to bring out a moral about the putting of horse-chestnuts in a stove, namely, that it is very revolutionary, and a good way to play nihilists, if you wish to play nihilists. It concerns one Willy Flint, who was an imp; not one of those nervous black little things, however, such as you would expect an imp to be. He had light hair, rather thin red eyelids, and no nerves; but for all that he was an imp. His sister's name was Angelica Bertina and some other names. She also was an imp. I believe she was, or grew up to be, a very pretty girl, but at that time I had no opinion of such matters.
Angelica kicked the snow against the entry-door and mentioned a desire to smash things. She felt that way, perhaps, more often than most people, but we all know how it is when it is a relief, although nothing in particular has happened, to get a large club and pound a rock. It is partly surplus energy and partly discontent. Bobby Bell stared at Angelica admiringly. It was the noon-hour. Willy Flint reached the bottom of his lunch-pail, shook up the crumbs, and fitted it deftly on the head of Bobby Bell, who escaped and ran into Angelica. Angelica collared him and shook him out of the dinner-pail, but respectfully, for Bobby Bell was a gentleman, though very little, and though only five or six years old, greatly admired Angelica.
"You let Bobby alone," snapped Angelica; but Willy Flint was thinking of something else. Angelica, holding Bobby by the collar, brushed off the crumbs, and Bobby became contented and conversational.