"Why?"
"Oh, because I always put two c's or two r's or two n's in it."
"Ho, that makes it easy, then. Just remember that there isn't a double letter in it, and then spell it just as it sounds. Why, macaroni is so long and thin that there isn't room for a double letter in it."
"Oh, Father, you make it so easy. Of course I'll remember that, now."
Down the long list they went, and Mr. Maynard, with some little quip or quibble, made each word of special interest, and so fixed it in Marjorie's memory. At the end of a half-hour she was perfect in the lesson, and had thoroughly enjoyed the learning of it.
"I wish you'd help me every night," she said, wistfully. "All this week, anyway. For there's to be a spelling-match on Friday, between our class and Miss Bates' class, and we want to win. But I'm such a bad speller, nobody wants to choose me on their side."
"They don't, don't they? Well, I rather think we'll change all that. You and I will attack Mr. Speller every evening, and see if we can't vanquish him."
"I think we can," said Marjorie, her eyes sparkling. "For it's only some few of those catchy words that I can't seem to learn. But after you help me they all seem easy."
So every night that week Midge and her father had a spelling-class of their own, and fine work was accomplished.
The spelling-match was to be on Friday, and Thursday night they were to have a grand review of all the lessons. Marjorie brought home her schoolbooks on Thursday, and left them in the house while she went out to play. But when she came in to get ready for dinner, her mother was dressing to go out.