The schoolmaster had scarcely arranged the room in due order，and taken his seat behind his desk，when a whiteheaded boy with a sunburnt face appeared at the door，and stopping there to make a rustic bow，came in and took his seat upon one of the forms.The whiteheaded boy then put an open book，astonishingly dogeared，upon his knees，and thrusting his hands into his pockets，began counting the marbles with which they were filled.Soon afterwards another whiteheaded little boy came straggling in，and after him a redheaded lad，and after him two more with white heads，and then one with a flaxen poll，and so on until there were about a dozen boys in all，with heads of every colour but gray，and ranging in their ages from four years old to fourteen years or more；for the legs of the youngest were a long way from the floor when he sat upon the form，and the eldest was a heavy，goodtempered，foolish fellow，about half a head taller than the schoolmaster.
At the top of the first formthe post of honour in the schoolwas the vacant place of the little sick scholar，and at the head of the row of pegs on which the hats and caps were hung，one peg was left empty.No boy attempted to violate the sanctity of seat or peg，but many a one looked from the empty spaces to the schoolmaster，and whispered to his idle neighbour behind his hand.
Then began the hum of conning over lessons and getting them by heart，the whispered jest and stealthy game，and all the noise and drawl of school；and in the midst of the din sat the poor schoolmaster，the very image of meekness and simplicity，vainly attempting to fix his mind upon the duties of the day，and to forget his little sick friend.But the tedium of his office reminded him more strongly of the willing scholar，and his thoughts were rambling from his pupilsit was plain.None knew this better than the idlest boys，who，growing bolder with impunity，waxed louder and more daringeating apples under the master’s eye，pinching each other in sport or malice，and cutting their autographs in the very legs of his desk.The puzzled dunce，who stood beside it to say his lesson out of book，looked no longer at the ceiling for forgotten words，but drew closer to the master‘s elbow and boldly cast his eyes upon the page.If the master did chance to rouse himself and seem alive to what was going on，the noise subsided for a moment，and no eyes met his but wore a studious and deeply humble look；but，the instant he relapsed again，it broke out afresh，and ten times louder than before.
Oh，how some of those idle fellows longed to be outside，and how they looked at the open door and window，as if they half meditated rushing violently out，plunging into the woods，and being wild boys and savages from that time forth.What rebellious thoughts of the cool river，and some shady bathingplace beneath willowtrees with branches dipping in the water，kept tempting and urging that sturdy boy，who sat fanning his flushedface with a spellingbook wishing himself a whale，or a fly，or anything but a boy at school on that hot，broiling day！
