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By Jack Joseph Smith

I would not see Mrs. Williams again for a long time. She had called my mother after lunch, and told her of the hall I called a room. Now in the mornings there was no school; and my seconds became lifetimes through dreams looking from our front window across Metzes field touched white in the early winter sun. The story was that Mr. Metzes lived alone on the other side of the hill in an old stone farmhouse, that was in shambles. Everyone knew that he was a man of the depths and cared nothing for the outside world. Someone said, that his wife and children had been burned alive in a terrible fire, that distroyed most of the house. Others said, that they had all escaped the fire and Mrs. Metzes had taken her children away, while Mr. Metzes had stayed on to live in the ruins of the house. The farm was always very still, and everything grew wild. From our front window I could see the wild wheat bending under the wind and snow all along the hill. Directly across the street was a creek that ran behind some neat and pretty homes covered with green; and I imagined that cows once came there to drink and to graze in the lower part of the field. My eyes traveled as far as the tops of the Allegany mountains in the distance, and stoped there in the wonderment of a childs heart wanting his imagination to go on. Each day I would stand on the couch and beg my mother to let me leave. No Michael. You should be in nursery school; if you can't stay in nursery school, you can't go out and play. Do you know Mr. Metzes mom? No I don't Michael. Have you ever seen him? No I haven't, and don't you ever go over there. That's his property, and

Original Scan

Page 21

AI Interpretation

GPT

After Miss Williams calls home, mornings without school open onto the haunted stillness of Metzes field, ruined-farm stories, distant Alleghenies, and the child's blocked desire to go outside.

Suspension from nursery school widens the imagination rather than calming it, and the front window becomes a lookout over rumor, ruin, wild growth, and mountain distance. The mother answers with prohibition, so the forbidden field gathers even more power.

Claude

Suspended after Miss Williams reports 'the hall I called a room', the boy's idle mornings turn the front window into a lookout over Metzes field, 'touched white in the early winter sun'. He gathers the local mythology of Mr. Metzes, 'a man of the depths', whose family either 'burned alive in a terrible fire' or fled while he 'stayed on to live in the ruins'; the wild wheat bends 'under the wind and snow', and his sight runs to 'the tops of the Allegany mountains' and stops 'in the wonderment of a childs heart'. His begging to go out meets prohibition - 'don't you ever go over there. That's his property' - which only loads the forbidden field with more power.