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title: 'The Day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, February 10, 1914, NOON EDITION, Image 18',
meta: 'News about Chronicling America - RSS Feed',
Image provided by: University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL
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By Henry Denton.
"Mr. Cornwall, I would like to see
fou after you have dismissed your
class," said Miss ilary Moriarity, en
tering the classroom?- and the pupils
It was always a sore point with the
male teachers in public school No. 7
that they had a woman principal.
Miss Moriarity was forty-one, plump,
good-natured and inflexible. Henry
Cornwall was not a good disciplinar
ian. He was a student of abstruse
She Was Writing Very Quickly.
themes. If he had had the oppor
tunity of lecturing upon the economi
cal status of the Medes, or the phil
osophy of the Shankara school of an
cient India he would have been a sig
nal success, but he was distinctly out
of his field as a teacher of geography
and history of modern times. And he
was always late.
"I guess it's all up with Henry,"
said one of the girls. "Miss Mary will
report him to the board for sure, this
That was just what was on the
schedule. As Miss Mary explained to
Mr. Cornwall during the recess:
"I am sorry I must report you, Mr. .
Cornwall, but you have been late sev
en times this month, and I should not
be doing my duty if I let the matter
Henry Cornwall went out dazed.
The board did not like him. The board
was composed of hard-headed busi
ness men, who measured a teacher's
capacity in terms of time. Unpunc
tuality was a greater crime than any
thing else in the board's eyes. Mr.
Cornwall would be thrown out of his
post, just when he had earned the
right to be promoted to the higher,
grade, in which his abilities would
have a chance to be discovered.
The rumor spread through the .
school that Mr. Cornwall was to be
reported at the next board meeting.
"Why doesn't he marry the old
cat?" inquired Miss Dorothy Perkins.
"Say, fellows, wouldn't that be great!
And tomorrow's Valentine day."
The class was thrilled with the pos
sibilities. A match between Miss Mary
and Mr. Cornwall would be ideal.
Even Miss Mary could not report her
Henry Cornwall spent the most
miserable night of his existence. He
was forty-five years of age, too old to
obtain another position easily. And
the very next term he might have
won his promotion and have been
placed in a position of comparative
affluence. More than that, Miss Mary
had always exercised a profound at
traction for him. He had even dared
to dream dreams concerning her to
be realized, in imagination, when his
salary automatically leaped from $1,-
500 to $2,000. And now even the
dreams were too impossible to be
"If I told her now," groaned the un
happy man, "she would think it was
only a scheme to avoid being re
ported." But before he closed his eyes and