Free These Happy Golden Years by Laura Ingalls Wilder Page A

asked.
    “I was wishing we were going in the other direction,”
    Laura said.
    “We'll be doing that next Friday.” He slowed the horses. “We can delay it a little,” he said, and she knew that somehow he understood how she dreaded going into that house.
    “Till next Friday, then,” he smiled encouragingly, as he drove away.
    Day by day and night by night that week went by, until there was only one more night to get through. Tomorrow was Friday, the last day of school. When that one night and one day were over, she would go home to stay.
    She so dreaded that something might happen, this last night. Often she woke with a start, but all was quiet and her heart slowly ceased thumping.
    Friday's lessons were unusually well-learned, and every pupil was carefully well-behaved.
    When afternoon recess was over, Laura called the school to order, and said there would be no more lessons.
    School would be dismissed early, because this was the last day.
    She knew that she must make some closing speech to the school, so she praised them all for the work they had done. “You have made good use of the opportunity you had to come to school,” she told them.
    “I hope that each of you can get more schooling, but if you cannot, you can study at home as Lincoln did. An education is worth striving for, and if you cannot have much help in getting one, you can each help yourself to an education if you try.”
    Then she gave Ruby one of her name-cards, of thin, pale pink cardboard with a spray of roses and cornflowers curving above her printed name. On the back she had written, “Presented to Ruby Brewster, by her teacher, with kind regards. Brewster School, February, 1883.”
    Tommy was next, then Martha and Charles, and 86
    Clarence. They were all so pleased. Laura let them have a moment to enjoy looking at the pretty cards, and carefully place them in their books. Then she told them to make ready their books, slates, and pencils, to carry home. For the last time she said, “School is dismissed.”
    She had never been more surprised than she was then.
    For instead of putting on their wraps as she expected, they all came up to her desk. Martha gave her a beautiful, red apple. Ruby shyly gave her a little cake that her mother had baked for her gift. And Tommy and Charles and Clarence each gave her a new pencil that he had carefully sharpened for her.
    She hardly knew how to thank them, but Martha said,
    “It's us, I mean we, that thank you, Miss Ingalls. Thank you for helping me with grammar.” “Thank you, Miss Ingalls,” Ruby said. “I wish it had frosting on it.” The boys did not say anything, but after they had all said good-by and gone, Clarence came back.
    Standing by Laura's table and leaning against it he looked down at his cap in his hands and muttered, “I'm sorry I was so mean.”
    “Why, Clarence! That's all right!” Laura exclaimed.
    “And you have done wonderfully well in your studies. I am proud of you.”
    He looked at her with his old saucy grin, and shot out of the room, slamming the door so that the shanty shook.
    Laura cleaned the blackboard and swept the floor. She stacked her books and papers and shut the drafts of the 87
    stove. Then she put on her hood and coat and stood at the window waiting until the sleigh bells came jingling and Prince and Lady stopped at the door.
    School was out. She was going home to stay! Her heart was so light that she felt like singing with the sleigh bells, and fast as the horses trotted, they seemed slow.
    “You won't get there any faster, pushing,” Almanzo said once, and she laughed aloud to find that she was pushing her feet hard against the cutter's dashboard. But he did not talk much, and neither did she. It was enough to be going home.
    Not until she had thanked him nicely and said good night and was in the sitting room taking off her wrap did she remember that he had not said, “Good night.” He had not said, “I'll see you Sunday afternoon,” as he had always