"I mean the part that is not in the book?"
"I got that from—from——" and the big, homely youth hesitated, and then said, "that's just plain horse-sense."
"Blasphemy" was the next word given out. It was John McNeil's turn to spell.
"B-l-a-s-p-h-e-m-y—A contemptuous treatment of God." McNeil spoke clearly and glanced toward Ann as if for approval.
After fifteen minutes of spelling, half the lines were seated. Ann Rutledge, John McNeil and Lincoln were standing. It was John's turn again.
"Relict."
"R-e-l-e——"
"Next!" said the master, and the word crossed the line to Ann.
"R-e-l——" she hesitated a moment and glanced toward Abe Lincoln who now stood opposite her. He had raised his hand to his face and one of his long fingers pointed to his eye.
"R-e-l-i-c-t——" she said slowly—"A relict is a woman whose husband is dead."