"Well" she began slowly.

Thump! Elizabeth sprang up from her chair, nearly overturning it in her alarm. The children were up, too, and looking around. There was an outraged cry from outside, and another thump which set the open window behind her desk to rattling. As she turned in that direction, she had a brief glimpse of Ephraim's shocked face, his ink—stained fingers pressed to his mouth and the small glass bottle dangling incongruously from his unbuttoned breeches.

"Oooowwww!" came another screech. Elizabeth stuck her head out of the window to see Nathaniel pinning Liam Kirby to the wall.

"Leeeemeegoo!" howled Liam, arms and legs flailing.

The children had raced out of the door as soon as she had turned her back, and they appeared in a crowd at the corner of the building.

"Look here, Boots," Nathaniel said. "You've got a Peeping Tom."

"His name ain't Tom," offered Ruth Glove cheerfully. "That's Liam Kirby."

"He knows that," Dolly hissed.

"A Peeping Tom's somebody who looks in at windows where he don't belong."

Liam was squirming but Nathaniel held him fast, leaning with all his weight on the fistful of hair pulled up hard and taut against the wall. Pinned like a bug, Liam sputtered and squeaked and sent Elizabeth pleading glances.

Elizabeth turned her attention to her students. "I don't recall giving permission for you to leave your seats. Please return to them at once.

Sheepishly, with lingering last looks toward Liam, they retreated the way they had come. Elizabeth waited until she heard the door close and heard them talking inside the classroom behind her.

"What are you doing here, Liam?"

"Nothing," he spat, earning a smart cuff above the ear from Nathaniel.

"Oooww! What was that for?"

"For your sweet manners and courteous ways," Nathaniel said. "Remember it." Then he looked at Elizabeth. "It ain't the first time. I was watching today because I saw his tracks here."

Elizabeth considered the red—faced boy, trying to assess the source of his discomfort: anger, or embarrassment.

"Do let him go, Nathaniel, before you snatch him bald—headed."

With a shrug, Nathaniel stepped away and then made some considerable show of wiping his hand on his leggings.

"Liam, I wonder if you'd like to come back to school."

This earned her a raised brow from Nathaniel, and a scowl from the boy.

"Don't know why I should want to come back here," he mumbled sullenly, rubbing his sore scalp.

"I don't know why either, exactly," Elizabeth said. "But it seems as if you do. Why would you spend your valuable time listening at the window, if you did not?"

Nathaniel's sour grin told her that he approved of her tactics, if not of her purpose.

Elizabeth said, "There's an empty desk if you'd like it. Now if you'll please pardon me, we have lessons—" She stopped, remembering Ephraim's dilemma. A quick glance over her shoulder showed her all of the children still gathered in a tight circle, heads bent in utter fascination.

"Give era yank, Rudy," came a decisive female voice. "You're the strongest."

"Holy God!" cried Elizabeth, bumping her head on the window frame in her hurry to get into the room.

"Children! Wait!" As she pushed through the circle around Ephraim, Nathaniel and Liam came in the door and joined her.

Nathaniel's mouth twitched at one corner and then the other. He looked at Elizabeth and then quickly away.

"It's all swoll up," Ephraim announced piteously. "Won't budge."

Elizabeth coughed, and covered her mouth to cough again. She turned away to bury her fit of coughing in her handkerchief. When she turned back, Nathaniel was down on one knee in front of Ephraim, surveying the situation.

"Don't suppose there's any lard to hand," he said. "Wonder who can run the fastest and fetch me some."

In a second, the room had emptied of all the children except for Hannah, who retired reluctantly to the front step at Elizabeth's suggestion.

At thirteen Liam was more than twice Ephraim's size; he had to squat down on his haunches to get a better look. He rubbed the ginger—colored down on his upper lip while he considered the dangling ink pot

"Lordy, you don't need no lard for that job." He squinted up at Nathaniel. "What you need is a hammer."

Ephraim's head jerked up, and at that moment there was a soft pop! and the bottle fell to the floor with a clank. It rolled away under a desk, trailing a long comma of ink.

"What'd I say?" Liam looked from Nathaniel to Elizabeth and then at the small blue—stained appendage curled so innocently in Ephraim's lap. "How'd that happen?"

"You scared the piss out of him." Nathaniel laughed, slapping Liam on the shoulder.

"I did not piss!" Ephraim protested, blushing this time to the tips of his ears. He crossed his hands over his lap.

"Yes, well." Elizabeth took on a soothing tone. "It looks as though school is out for today. Why don't you go home and—”

“Wash up," supplied Nathaniel, the corners of his mouth curling uncontrollably upward.

"In the future—" Elizabeth continued slowly, trying to ignore Nathaniel and find the appropriate tone.

"Keep your breeches buttoned." This from Liam.

Elizabeth scowled at him, and he dropped his gaze in reply. She sighed. "I suppose that does sum it up. Best get along, Ephraim. And tell the others that school is out for the day."