No Small Victory (19 page)

Mr. McDougall sat upright. A pleased look spread across his face.

Bonnie continued, “‘Can I do something to help now?' I asked.

“‘Yes, Bonnie,' said my mother. ‘I need you to care for your dad while I feed the cows and horses. I know I can count on you. You are always such a
great
help.'”

Suddenly, Archie laughed right out loud. The other pupils looked shocked. Mr. McDougall gave Archie such a cold stare that it wiped the smile off his face.

“So that's how I took care of my dad after his horrendous accident. And that night the surprise supper was no supper at all.
The End
.”

Every eye was wide open when Bonnie finished her story. Mr. McDougall said, “Fine, Bonnie. You actually woke up that back row of boys. That is an accomplishment. Now everyone, pass your scribblers along the aisle, and the end person can bring them to the front. Your arithmetic assignments are on the board. Get busy. We've a lot of catching up to do.”

SIXTEEN:
BUG TOWN KIDS

Winter had finally broken the last week of March. The great drifts of snow had gone fast in April as blustering winds swept through, and streams of water had trickled across the knolls and hills. This was one of those warm spring days in early May when it seemed more like June.

Inside the front room of the Browns' brick house, the eggs and the incubator were gone. At first, they had been replaced with many light-yellow balls of fuzz, scurrying and peeping on sheets of old newspaper spread over the hardwood floor in the front room. A little coal-oil stove had kept them warm. But by May, they had grown real feathers, and Mum and Bonnie had moved them to the little outside coop. Bonnie had to admit the chicks were really very cute in the fuzz stage. And even afterward, it was interesting to watch their wings grow in.

Bonnie smiled as she walked along the path to school. Things were looking up. Most of the pupils at the Lang school had accepted her now. Even Tom and Slinky were being nice sometimes, though they couldn't resist teasing her for being so bookish. Bonnie swung her blue tin lunch pail back and forth at her side and hurried ahead. Inside the school, Bonnie hung her coat on its nail in the girls' cloakroom and rushed to her desk before Mr. McDougall handed back assignments.

Opening exercises over, the pupils were finding it hard to settle into the routine. Slinky had already made one unnecessary trip to the pencil sharpener to gaze out the window across the fields. Then Tom had gone up twice. Finally, Archie made his way over there. The maples along the far fence were fuzzy with blossoms. Tiny leaves on the lilacs between the fence and road were starting to make a green curtain all along the edge of the schoolyard.

Even Angela was restless. Marianne was absent but her friend was whispering behind her speller to the girl in front of her. Only Lizzie and the two other girls in Grade Eight were working diligently. In a couple of months, they would have to try the entrance examinations. If they failed those exams, they would not get into high school.

Unlike the others, Bonnie was not gazing out the window, but her mind was many miles away—on Prince Edward Island. She'd finished her work but it was still spread out on her desk, and her pencil was still in her hand. She was dreaming about another “Anne” book that she'd hidden in her desk.
Anne of
Avonlea
was the second in the series, and in it, Anne Shirley had grown up and become a teacher. She'd be a teacher—like Anne, not Mr. McDougall. It was easy to borrow these books now, for Mrs. Elmhirst had donated them to the little library at Keene United Church.

Bang! Bang! Bang!
Someone was pounding on the door. Bonnie was suddenly alert.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Everyone sat up and stared at the teacher. Even Mr. McDougall looked startled, and he got to his feet swiftly. But the door opened before he was even halfway down the aisle.

In burst Mr. Hubbs, Marianne's father. Everyone knew that he was the chairman of the school board. Even the restless pupils sat up straight at their desks and faced the front. Mr. Hubbs was a small, bald-headed man with a wide friendly face, but he did not look happy now. His face was aflame.

“Mr. Hubbs,” the teacher said, his grey-green eyes clouding over with worry, “perhaps we can talk in the vestibule.” The teacher tried to steer Mr. Hubbs away from the classroom.

The chairman of the school board shook off his arm. “I'm here for one reason only, Mr. McDougall, and the class might just as well hear it.”

Mr. McDougall stood perfectly still and waited for the bad news.

“My daughter,” Mr. Hubbs announced, clearing his throat, “has caught…HEAD LICE!”

How could Marianne have got head lice? Mrs. Hubbs was a stickler for cleanliness; everyone knew that, too. Bonnie had been to visit Marianne and had thought Mrs. Hubbs even cleaner than her own mother.

“We know where she got the lice,” Mr. Hubbs answered their unspoken question. “She got them from this bunch—and it's a disgrace!”

A deadly silence settled over the classroom as everyone stared at the red-faced Mr. Hubbs. No one even moved a pencil or a scrap of paper on the desks. Then, in unison, it seemed, the pupils started to scratch their heads. Bonnie suddenly realized that her head was furiously itchy. Even Mr. McDougall raised his hand to his red-brown hair, but he lowered it before he actually scratched.

“Look at them!” Mr. Hubbs exploded. “They're all scratching away!…And you never noticed it? Man, have you no eyes in your head? This problem could have been caught in the bud. But now we have an epidemic on our hands!”

“I…uhh…” For once, Mr. McDougall was speechless.

“I'll tell you what you're going to do about it. You're going to march this lot—every last one of them—down to Keene. Dr. Wright will be in the office this afternoon. He and his nurse will examine everyone. A note will be sent home to tell parents how to treat head lice.”

Mr. McDougall's face had flushed completely red but his voice had finally returned. “Is there a means of transportation for the younger students?”

“It's only
three
miles to Keene. The bigger ones can help the little ones. There's Tom there—a sturdy lad—he could take a Grade One pupil on his shoulders. And the Grade Eight girls could join hands and make seats for other little ones. These ruffians will be just fine. If they can carry cooties without complaint, they can carry other pupils. Have them take their lunches, too, and they can eat there before they come back.”

“Everyone, you heard Mr. Hubbs. Put away your books. Get your lunch pails,” said Mr. McDougall. “Be outside in three minutes.”

Bonnie and all the other girls headed for their cloakroom and washroom. Once she was outside, Bonnie's head did not itch so badly. Maybe it was just the thought of creatures running around in her hair that had made her want to scratch. Many were still scratching.

At first, everyone enjoyed the walk along the road to Keene. They'd been dreaming of getting outside, and now Mr. Hubbs had given them a holiday! Then the little ones began to lag behind, and the older ones had to help them along. Soon everyone's feet were dragging.

Over an hour later, they stumbled up the steps to the verandah in front of Dr. Wright's office. The younger children flopped right down on the unraked grass. Dr. Wright wasn't in, but Miss Reid got started.

“You might as well eat while you're waiting,” Mr. McDougall told them. “This is going to take a while.”

Bonnie pushed back the handles of her tin lunch pail and pried open the lid. She wasn't surprised by what she saw inside: two sandwiches of buttered bread and one suckerball. Archie was eating the same thing, so there was no chance of a trade. But after a few minutes, he offered her a donut.

Bonnie could hardly believe her luck. Mum never made donuts—they required grease, and they wouldn't have any until they could afford to kill a pig. This year's pigs would be sold in the fall, and the money used to pay the rent and some of the debt. That horrible debt took every spare cent.

As Bonnie was taking the last bite of her donut, Dr. Wright came bustling up the steps, right through the line-up.

He squeezed his blocky frame through the open doorway, past the line of children. “Sorry I'm late, Harriet,” he said to his nurse. His strong voice carried out to the waiting children. “I've had a long night…visited old Mrs. Jones…she's gone now…then was called to the Maples' farm. Liza's had twins. That was a surprise to them, though I'd expected something different.”

He threw his coat over a chair and rubbed his hands together. “So, onto this lice epidemic….Most homes have this problem from time to time, to be sure. Doesn't mean they aren't clean, of course. The way these critters crawl so fast, they spread like lightning—but we'll get rid of them soon. The girls must be reminded not to use each other's combs. Not much chance of the boys doing that,” he laughed, “but they must be told not to exchange caps. Are we all ready?”

“I've set things up out here on the verandah so we don't get any critters inside.”

“Well, let's get these children out of here before the sick folk arrive,” he said.

Bonnie's turn finally arrived. She'd hoped she'd get the nurse but instead, she had to step up in front of the doctor, whose patience had become rather thin.

The doctor put two fingers to Bonnie's curls, rummaged around for a while, peering, and said brusquely, “Well, you do have lice. Next!”

Bonnie's heart sank.

The nurse handed Bonnie a sheet of paper which Bonnie started to read at once. It was all about how parents could treat their children's lice. The nurse gave Bonnie a little push, and she started down the steps of the verandah with Archie behind her. He was holding a sheet of paper too.

Soon all the Lang schoolchildren were strolling back to the main road that led through Keene toward home. Some were still eating their lunches while others had lost their appetites. Most of the Grade Ones were whimpering about their heads itching and their feet hurting.

The thought of the dreadful insects crawling all around her head made Bonnie shudder. That spring, Bonnie had been left to comb her own hair each morning. She had liked that because she didn't pull out the tangles as hard as her mother did. But now all that would change. Mum would be inspecting her head—and those instructions did not sound like fun.

Mr. McDougall and Mr. Hubbs were no longer in sight, so the Lang schoolchildren walked on slowly in a silent, solemn way. No one felt like talking. Everyone was glum—even Slinky and Tom.

The Keene pupils were outside playing and watching a baseball game when the bedraggled bunch from Lang School passed by them. They stopped playing to stare with curiosity.

“I'm thirsty!” a Grade One pupil grumbled. This set off a whole chorus of requests.

“Well, I do declare,” said Slinky. “I think I spy a pump; don't you, Tom?”

“Yes, I do. C'mon, kids. There's water enough here for everyone.”

Tom and Slinky led the way through the narrow gate and into the Keene schoolyard. Tom pumped water for everyone. Most of the pupils had empty cups in their lunch boxes and some shared their cups with the others who had none. The fresh well water tasted very good to the thirsty travellers.

“Come on, Bonnie,” Tom said. “You can have a drink too.”

Bonnie wasn't sure. She might be on better terms with these boys now, but she still remembered the day Tom and Slinky had showered her with pump water at school. She plucked up enough courage to look Tom in the eye. There was no smirk on his face. He looked at Bonnie and said quietly, so no one else would hear, “Here, give me your cup.”

She fished in her lunch pail and handed it to him. He filled it with water and handed it back. Bonnie took long, deep gulps of the fresh, cold water.

“Next!” Tom said.

When Bonnie turned from the well, she gasped. Two rows of Keene pupils had circled around the children at the pump. The bigger boys began shouting, “Get out, you Lang kids! Get out! We don't want your cooties!”

Bonnie could hardly believe her ears. How fast the news had spread!

The jeers were getting louder. “Yeah, get out, cootie kids! Go home to your own town—
Bug town, bug town, bug town
kids. Bug town, Lang town, on the skids!
”

Their loud jeering was suddenly overwhelmed by the heavy rattling of their teacher's bell. Instantly, the Keene pupils turned and ran toward the open door where their teacher stood scowling at them.

The Lang kids moved away from the pump and went back to the road. Some looked at their toes and some blushed with shame. Even Slinky and Tom had nothing to say. The journey back to the Lang school seemed twice as far as the walk from Lang to Keene.

Finally, at three o'clock, the stragglers turned off the gravel road and onto the dust-packed route that led into the village of Lang.

When Tom opened the door to the school, there was Mr. McDougall, marking papers at his desk as if nothing had happened. Every eye looked at him resentfully. He had taken a ride back and left the pupils to fend for themselves. But he returned their looks with his own look of disgust on his face. Utterly demoralized, the children slunk to their seats in silence.

“It seems that there are only five pupils—two from Grade One and three girls from Grade Eight—who do not have head lice,” Mr. McDougall said. “Each of you who has been diagnosed with lice must take home the sheet you received from Dr. Wright. I have extras here in case any of you lost your sheets on the way back. Your parents must follow the instructions on the sheet and start your treatment this evening.”

He attempted a joke next—probably to lighten the atmosphere of doom and gloom that had settled over the classroom. “Tomorrow will be Lice Day,” he said. And then he chuckled.

No one even smiled.