I stood beside him, weary and perplexed enough, but ever taking counsel
of the pride of my own heart. And those poor children, with their hard,
toilsome, barren lives before them, how they sang! their clear, young
voices ringing out fearlessly, carelessly--they knew the words. I
wondered if any one in the room appreciated the song as having inner
truth and meaning.
As I was locking my desk, before leaving the room, I discovered this
little note, which Rebecca had dropped in it.
"dere teecher,
"I wanted to do sumthyng to help yu wen I seen him come in To Day
fur I new jus howe yu felt but thay wasent no wours than thay always
was, and he nose it! and thay studdid more fur yu I think than thay
did for any but I think it mus be harrd for yu not bein' use to us.
I think yu was tired. When we was singin' I thot howe tired yu was,
but thar' was always won to help. Excus writin' pleas but I wanted
to let yu no for yu was good to me and I luv yu.
Becky Weir."
Somehow, the little note rested and comforted me, more than I would have
imagined, a week before, any expression of this humble disciple of mine
could have done.
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