That was the hardest blow I suffered.
Among the handsome, well-dressed boys of the village was Henry Wills--the boy who had stolen my watermelon.

I had never forgiven him for that or for the killing of my little hen.

The bell rang and we marched into the big room, while a fat girl with crinkly hair played on a melodeon.

Henry and another boy tried to shove me out of line and a big paper wad struck the side of my head as we were marching in and after we were seated a cross-eyed, freckled girl in a red dress made a face at me.
It was, on the whole, the unhappiest day of my life.

It reminded me of Captain Cook's account of his first day with a barbaric tribe on one of the South Sea islands.