第77部分

請關閉瀏覽器的閱讀/暢讀/小說模式並且關閉廣告遮蔽過濾功能，避免出現內容無法顯示或者段落錯亂。

r　children　happy；　too；　with　a　little

tingling　of　delight。　But　to　her；　the　children　were　not　a　school

class　this　afternoon。　They　were　flowers；　birds；　little　bright

animals；　children；　anything。　They　only　were　not　Standard　Five。

She　felt　no　responsibility　for　them。　It　was　for　once　a　game；

this　teaching。　And　if　they　got　their　sums　wrong；　what　matter？

And　she　would　take　a　pleasant　bit　of　reading。　And　instead　of

history　with　dates；　she　would　tell　a　lovely　tale。　And　for

grammar；　they　could　have　a　bit　of　written　analysis　that　was　not

difficult；　because　they　had　done　it　before：

〃She　shall　be　sportive　as　a　fawn

That　wild　with　glee　across　the　lawn

Or　up　the　mountain　springs。〃

She　wrote　that　from　memory；　because　it　pleased　her。

So　the　golden　afternoon　passed　away　and　she　went　home　happy。

She　had　finished　her　day　of　school；　and　was　free　to　plunge　into

the　glowing　evening　of　Cossethay。　And　she　loved　walking　home。

But　it　had　not　been　school。　It　had　been　playing　at　school

beneath　red　hawthorn　blossom。

She　could　not　go　on　like　this。　The　quarterly　examination　was

ing；　and　her　class　was　not　ready。　It　irritated　her　that　she

must　drag　herself　away　from　her　happy　self；　and　exert　herself

with　all　her　strength　to　force；　to　pel　this　heavy　class　of

children　to　work　hard　at　arithmetic。　They　did　not　want　to　work；

she　did　not　want　to　pel　them。　And　yet；　some　second　conscience

gnawed　at　her；　telling　her　the　work　was　not　properly　done。　It

irritated　her　almost　to　madness；　and　she　let　loose　all　the

irritation　in　the　class。　Then　followed　a　day　of　battle　and　hate

and　violence；　when　she　went　home　raw；　feeling　the