In September David entered the village school.School and David did not assimilate at once.Very confidently the teacher set to work to grade her new pupil;but she was not so confident when she found that while in Latin he was perilously near herself (and in French--which she was not required to teach--disastrously beyond her!),in United States history he knew only the barest outlines of certain portions,and could not name a single battle in any of its wars.In most studies he was far beyond boys of his own age,yet at every turn she encountered these puzzling spots of discrepancy,which rendered grading in the ordinary way out of the question.
David's methods of recitation,too,were peculiar,and somewhat disconcerting.He also did not hesitate to speak aloud when he chose,nor to rise from his seat and move to any part of the room as the whim seized him.In time,of course,all this was changed;but it was several days before the boy learned so to conduct himself that he did not shatter to atoms the peace and propriety of the schoolroom.
Outside of school David had little work to do now,though there were still left a few light tasks about the house.Home life at the Holly farmhouse was the same for David,yet with a difference--the difference that comes from being really wanted instead of being merely dutifully kept.There were other differences,too,subtle differences that did not show,perhaps,but that still were there.
Mr.and Mrs.Holly,more than ever now,were learning to look at the world through David's eyes.One day--one wonderful day--they even went to walk in the woods with the boy;and whenever before had Simeon Holly left his work for so frivolous a thing as a walk in the woods!
It was not accomplished,however,without a struggle,as David could have told.The day was a Saturday,clear,crisp,and beautiful,with a promise of October in the air;and David fairly tingled to be free and away.Mrs.Holly was baking--and the birds sang unheard outside her pantry window.Mr.Holly was digging potatoes--and the clouds sailed unnoticed above his head.
All the morning David urged and begged.If for once,just this once,they would leave everything and come,they would not regret it,he was sure.But they shook their heads and said,"No,no,impossible!"In the afternoon the pies were done and the potatoes dug,and David urged and pleaded again.If once,only this once,they would go to walk with him in the woods,he would be so happy,so very happy!And to please the boy--they went.
It was a curious walk.Ellen Holly trod softly,with timid feet.
She threw hurried,frightened glances from side to side.It was plain that Ellen Holly did not know how to play.Simeon Holly stalked at her elbow,stern,silent,and preoccupied.It was plain that Simeon Holly not only did not know how to play,but did not even care to find out.
The boy tripped ahead and talked.He had the air of a monarch displaying his kingdom.On one side was a bit of moss worthy of the closest attention;on another,a vine that carried allurement in every tendril.Here was a flower that was like a story for interest,and there was a bush that bore a secret worth the telling.Even Simeon Holly glowed into a semblance of life when David had unerringly picked out and called by name the spruce,and fir,and pine,and larch,and then,in answer to Mrs.Holly's murmured:"But,David,where's the difference?They look so much alike!"he had said:--"Oh,but they aren't,you know.Just see how much more pointed at the top that fir is than that spruce back there;and the branches grow straight out,too,like arms,and they're all smooth and tapering at the ends like a pussy-cat's tail.But the spruce back there--ITS branches turned down and out--didn't you notice?--and they're all bushy at the ends like a squirrel's tail.Oh,they're lots different!That's a larch 'way ahead--that one with the branches all scraggly and close down to the ground.
I could start to climb that easy;but I couldn't that pine over there.See,it's 'way up,up,before there's a place for your foot!But I love pines.Up there on the mountains where I lived,the pines were so tall that it seemed as if God used them sometimes to hold up the sky."And Simeon Holly heard,and said nothing;and that he did say nothing--especially nothing in answer to David's confident assertions concerning celestial and terrestrial architecture--only goes to show how well,indeed,the man was learning to look at the world through David's eyes.
Nor were these all of David's friends to whom Mr.and Mrs.Holly were introduced on that memorable walk.There were the birds,and the squirrels,and,in fact,everything that had life.And each one he greeted joyously by name,as he would greet a friend whose home and habits he knew.Here was a wonderful woodpecker,there was a beautiful bluejay.Ahead,that brilliant bit of color that flashed across their path was a tanager.Once,far up in the sky,as they crossed an open space,David spied a long black streak moving southward.
"Oh,see!"he exclaimed."The crows!See them?--'way up there?Wouldn't it be fun if we could do that,and fly hundreds and hundreds of miles,maybe a thousand?""Oh,David,"remonstrated Mrs.Holly,unbelievingly.
"But they do!These look as if they'd started on their winter journey South,too;but if they have,they're early.Most of them don't go till October.They come back in March,you know.Though I've had them,on the mountain,that stayed all the year with me.""My!but I love to watch them go,"murmured David,his eyes following the rapidly disappearing blackline."Lots of birds you can't see,you know,when they start for the South.They fly at night--the woodpeckers and orioles and cuckoos,and lots of others.They're afraid,I guess,don't you?But I've seen them.
I've watched them.They tell each other when they're going to start.""Oh,David,"remonstrated Mrs.Holly,again,her eyes reproving,but plainly enthralled.
