Jeminy for what he
was, a grand, unusual peephole on the world. It was her own private
peep, she thought. But she was wrong. Aaron was peeping as hard as
she, and pitying her, as she was pitying him, for all he thought she
was missing.
As for Mr. Jeminy, he let them think what they pleased. At first he
was silent, out of shame. But later he enjoyed it as much as they did.
"In Ceylon," he would say, "the tea fields . . ."
One day, a week after his arrival, Mr. Jeminy took the plow horse,
Elijah, to the village to be shod. There the fragrance of wood fires
mingled with a sweeter smell from barns and kitchens. As it was the
hour when school let out, the yard in front of the schoolhouse was
filled with children on their way home; laughing and calling each
other, their voices rose in minor glees along the road, like the
squabble of birds. And Mr. Jeminy, in front of the smithy, watched
them go by, while his thoughts as follows:
"There," he said to himself, "its arms of texts, goes the new world.
Within those careless heads and happy hearts we must look for courage,
for wisdom and for sacrifice.
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