A Pupil of Chestnut Ridge Page #3

"A Pupil of Chestnut Ridge" is a novella by Bret Harte, set against the backdrop of the American West during the Gold Rush era. The story follows a young, aspiring student at a remote school in a rugged mountain town, where he and his classmates navigate the challenges of frontier life, friendships, and personal growth. Harte's characteristic wit and keen observation of human nature shine through as he explores themes of youth, ambition, and the impact of environment on character. Through his vivid storytelling, Harte captures both the harsh realities and the endearing moments of life in a small community, revealing the resilience and dreams of those striving for a better future.

• Short story

								

discipline of the school for the next few minutes, with supernatural
gravity addressed the young girl in Spanish and placed before her a
few slight elementary tasks. Perhaps the strangeness of the language,
perhaps the unwonted seriousness of the master, perhaps also the
impassibility of the young stranger herself, all contributed to arrest
the expanding smiles on little faces, to check their wandering eyes,
and hush their eager whispers. By degrees heads were again lowered
over their tasks, the scratching of pencils on slates, and the
far-off rapping of Woodpeckers again indicated the normal quiet of the
schoolroom, and the master knew he had triumphed, and the ordeal was
past.

But not as regarded himself, for although the new pupil had accepted his
instructions with childlike submissiveness, and even as it seemed to
him with childlike comprehension, he could not help noticing that
she occasionally glanced at him with a demure suggestion of some
understanding between them, or as if they were playing at master and
pupil. This naturally annoyed him and perhaps added a severer dignity to
his manner, which did not appear to be effective, however, and which
he fancied secretly amused her. Was she covertly laughing at him? Yet
against this, once or twice, as her big eyes wandered from her task over
the room, they encountered the curious gaze of the other children, and
he fancied he saw an exchange of that freemasonry of intelligence common
to children in the presence of their elders even when strangers to each
other. He looked forward to recess to see how she would get on with her
companions; he knew that this would settle her status in the school, and
perhaps elsewhere. Even her limited English vocabulary would not in any
way affect that instinctive, childlike test of superiority, but he was
surprised when the hour of recess came and he had explained to her in
Spanish and English its purpose, to see her quietly put her arm around
the waist of Matilda Bromly, the tallest girl in the school, as the two
whisked themselves off to the playground. She was a mere child after
all!

Other things seemed to confirm this opinion. Later, when the children
returned from recess, the young stranger had instantly become a popular
idol, and had evidently dispensed her favors and patronage generously.
The elder Bromly girl was wearing her lace veil, another had possession
of her handkerchief, and a third displayed the rose which had adorned
her left ear, things of which the master was obliged to take note with a
view of returning them to the prodigal little barbarian at the close of
school. Later he was, however, much perplexed by the mysterious passage
under the desks of some unknown object which apparently was making
the circuit of the school. With the annoyed consciousness that he was
perhaps unwittingly participating in some game, he finally "nailed it"
in the possession of Demosthenes Walker, aged six, to the spontaneous
outcry of "Cotched!" from the whole school. When produced from Master
Walker's desk in company with a horned toad and a piece of gingerbread,
it was found to be Concha's white satin slipper, the young girl herself,
meanwhile, bending demurely over her task with the bereft foot tucked up
like a bird's under her skirt. The master, reserving reproof of this
and other enormities until later, contented himself with commanding the
slipper to be brought to him, when he took it to her with the satirical
remark in Spanish that the schoolroom was not a dressing room--Camara
para vestirse. To his surprise, however, she smilingly held out the tiny
stockinged foot with a singular combination of the spoiled child and the
coquettish senorita, and remained with it extended as if waiting for him
to kneel and replace the slipper. But he laid it carefully on her desk.

"Put it on at once," he said in English.

There was no mistaking the tone of his voice, whatever his language.
Concha darted a quick look at him like the momentary resentment of
an animal, but almost as quickly her eyes became suffused, and with a
hurried movement she put on the slipper.

"Please, sir, it dropped off and Jimmy Snyder passed it on," said a
small explanatory voice among the benches.

"Silence!" said the master.

Nevertheless, he was glad to see that the school had not noticed the
girl's familiarity even though they thought him "hard." He was not
sure upon reflection but that he had magnified her offense and had been
unnecessarily severe, and this feeling was augmented by his occasionally
finding her looking at him with the melancholy, wondering eyes of a
chidden animal. Later, as he was moving among the desks' overlooking
the tasks of the individual pupils, he observed from a distance that her
head was bent over her desk while her lips were moving as if repeating
to herself her lesson, and that afterwards, with a swift look around the
room to assure herself that she was unobserved, she made a hurried sign
of the cross. It occurred to him that this might have followed some
penitential prayer of the child, and remembering her tuition by the
padres it gave him an idea. He dismissed school a few moments earlier in
order that he might speak to her alone before Mr. Hoover arrived.

Referring to the slipper incident and receiving her assurances that
"she" (the slipper) was much too large and fell often "so," a fact
really established by demonstration, he seized his opportunity. "But
tell me, when you were with the padre and your slipper fell off, you did
not expect him to put it on for you?"

Concha looked at him coyly and then said triumphantly, "Ah, no! but he
was a priest, and you are a young caballero."

Yet even after this audacity Mr. Brooks found he could only recommend
to Mr. Hoover a change in the young girl's slippers, the absence of the
rose-pinned veil, and the substitution of a sunbonnet. For the rest
he must trust to circumstances. As Mr. Hoover--who with large paternal
optimism had professed to see already an improvement in her--helped her
into the saddle, the schoolmaster could not help noticing that she had
evidently expected him to perform that act of courtesy, and that she
looked correspondingly reproachful.

"The holy fathers used sometimes to let me ride with them on their
mules," said Concha, leaning over her saddle towards the schoolmaster.

"Eh, what, missy?" said the Protestant Mr. Hoover, pricking up his ears.
"Now you just listen to Mr. Brooks's doctrines, and never mind them
Papists," he added as he rode away, with the firm conviction that the
master had already commenced the task of her spiritual conversion.

The next day the master awoke to find his little school famous. Whatever
were the exaggerations or whatever the fancies carried home to their
parents by the children, the result was an overwhelming interest in the
proceedings and personnel of the school by the whole district. People

								Rate this book:0.0 / 0 votes