"Augoost! Augoost! there is no such a word. Why, you are very bad, indeed—Août, Août, Août."
The manner in which Mr. Ravigote vociferated this rather uncouth word, roused Uncle Philip from his newspaper and his rocking-chair, and mistaking it for a howl of pain, he started up and exclaimed, "Hallo!" Mr. Ravigote turned round in amazement, and Uncle Philip continued, "Hey, what's the matter? Has anything hurt you? I thought I heard a howl."
"Dear uncle," said little Anne, "Mr. Ravigote is not howling; he is only saying August in French."
Uncle Philip bit his lip and resumed his paper. Mr. Ravigote proceeded, "September?" and his pupil repeated in a breath, as if she was afraid to stop an instant lest she should forget—
"Septembre, Octobre, Novembre, Décembre."
"Ah! very well; very well, indeed," exclaimed Mr. Ravigote; "you have said these four words comme il faut;[38] but it must be confessed they are not much difficult."
He then proceeded with the remainder of her vocabulary lesson; but in vain—not another word did she say that had the least affinity to the right one. "Ah!" said he, "je suis au desespoir;[39] I much expected of you this day, but you have overtumbled all my hopes. Je suis abimé."[40]
"Oui, Monsieur, said little Anne.
"You are one mauvais sujet,"[41] pursued the teacher, beginning to lose his patience; "punishment is all that you merit. Mais allons, essayons encore."[42]
Just at that moment the string of little Anne's beads (at which she had been pulling during the whole lesson) broke suddenly in two, and the beads began to shower down, a few into her lap, but most of them on the floor.