"
This choice of Mr. Perkins, who knew nothing of the little drama
of emotions that went on under the routine of lessons and
exercises in his domain, was purely accidental, but we took it at
the time as a stroke of diabolical genius. It left Cecily no
choice. She would have done almost anything before she would have
sat with Cyrus Brisk. With flashing eyes she tore open the
letter, snatched up the chalk, and dashed at the blackboard.
In a few minutes the contents of that letter graced the expanse
usually sacred to more prosaic compositions. I cannot reproduce
it verbatim, for I had no after opportunity of refreshing my
memory. But I remember that it was exceedingly sentimental and
exceedingly ill-spelled--for Cecily mercilessly copied down poor
Cyrus' mistakes. He wrote her that he wore her hare over his
hart--"and he stole it," Cecily threw passionately over her
shoulder at Mr. Perkins--that her eyes were so sweet and lovely
that he couldn't find words nice enuf to describ them, that he
could never forget how butiful she had looked in prar meeting the
evening before, and that some meels he couldn't eat for thinking
of her, with more to the same effect and he signed it "yours till
deth us do part, Cyrus Brisk."
As the writing proceeded we scholars exploded into smothered
laughter, despite our awe of Mr.
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