She took up her Second Reader, edged herself off her seat, and stood beside it, her eyes fixed questioningly upon him.
"Come forward to the chart, I say," he said again. "Can't you hear!"
"Yes," answered the little girl, starting up the room. But she walked so slowly that, when she came near his table, he put out one lean hand, grabbed her by the arm, and hurried her. She resented his touch by twisting about until she was free. Then she took her place in front of the chart, feeling as if every eye in the room were looking up and down the row of blue crockery buttons on the back of her apron.
The teacher began to turn forward sheet after sheet of the chart, until the first page was before him. It depicted a figure in silk hat, long coat, and light trousers, promenading with a cane in his hand and a dog at his heels. Underneath were two lines of simple words, and two inquiring sentences. The teacher picked up a long cottonwood stick and pointed it first at the man and then at the dog.
"What is that?" he said.
"A man," answered the little girl.
"And that?"
"A dog."
"Now read after me," he went on, indicating a word, "'M-a-n, man.'"
She paused a moment, her lips pressed tightly together.