Chapter C: C. FITTS. W-w-what d-d-does d-d-d-D.C. m-mean?

PUPIL. Down South, don't it, teacher?

TEACHER. Go on with your recitation. You ask too many questions.

PUPIL. His mother's maiden name was Miss Hatchet--and his father's maiden name was George.

TEACHER. Next, go on.

SECOND PUPIL. When Washington wasn't fighting he lived on the top of Mount Vernon, and his tomb is in one side of the mountain.

TEACHER. What day is celebrated as his birthday?

ALL (_eagerly_). The Twenty-second of February!

TEACHER. Why should his birthday be celebrated any more than mine?

(_Thoughtful silence._)

GIRL (_raising hand triumphantly_). Because he never told a lie!

TEACHER. You may take your seat until you can be more respectful to your elders.

SCHOLAR (_at back of room, or near door_). Say, teacher, there's somebody knocking at the door. I guess it's the committee!

TEACHER. Class, toe the line! Scholars, if any one of you gets out of order while the committee is here I'll flog you! Do you understand?

CHORUS. Yes, sir!

TEACHER. Martha Washington Hibbs, you may open the door.

(_Enter MRS. CRANE with her son by the ear._)

MRS. CRANE. I've brought him, Mr. Snodgrass! Neow, Seth Crane, you miserable little truant you, jest go and set deown in that ere seat and behave yourself as ef you hed some bringing-up, or you'll get it when you get home--and you sha'n't go out to play for a week. Do you hear?

SETH (_boo-hooing_). 'Tain't my seat! It belongs to a gerrul! My seat's over there.

MRS. CRANE. You go set deown, or I'll put ye deown. (SETH _sits._) Neow, Mr. Snodgrass, I jest want you tu make my son behave, and ef he don't, I want yeou to flog him!--not enough to hurt him, for he's a very delicate child, and I wouldn't hev the dear boy hurt for nothing; but easy like, just enough to make him mind. (_Wiping her eyes._) He is a most affectionate boy--Seth, dear, go right to studying (_to_ SETH, _who growls, "I won't"_)--and more easily led than driven. But he's so nervous! I'm afraid he'll never live to grow up. Whenever you see him whispering or playing in school, Mr. Snodgrass, you may be sure it's all nervousness. He was a-goin' to play truant to-day, because he thinks you don't like him! What a be-u-tiful school you have--sech handsome-looking boys and girls.

TEACHER (_offering chair_). Yes, a very fine school for these parts. Won't you be seated?

MRS. CRANE. Mercy sakes alive! no. My punkin pies'll be burned to cinders, all on account o' that vagabond a-settin' there and grinnin' (_shaking a warning finger at him_)--ef I don't give you a walloping when you get hum!--Call reound, Mr. Snodgrass, and git some o' eour new apple juice. Jeremiah'll be glad tu hev ye. Good-mornin'.

TEACHER. I thank you, ma'am. I will with pleasure. Good-morning.

(_Exit_ MRS. CRANE, _with a card reading_ "BACK SHORTLY" _pinned on her back by some mischievous scholar._)

BOY (_in seat_). What does c-u-t-i-c-l-e mean?

TEACHER. What have you all over your hands and face?

BOY. Freckles.

TEACHER. Well, that is not what I was thinking of Christopher!