Nor would Spelling be hard. The Wenners were naturally good spellers; even little Albert could spell simple words like "cat" and "dog."
But there were Physiology and Arithmetic and History. The History had already given her a bad fright.
Professor Minturn, opening the course with a lecture on the interest and value of historical study, had suddenly looked about the class to find some one to read a paragraph from the text-book illustrating what he was saying. Sarah's face, bent eagerly forward, attracted him, and he asked her her name and told her to read. The color flamed into her cheeks, and with trembling hands she found her place in the book, and then rose. Instead of standing still, she walked to the front of the room, and, in a fashion learned before Laura had come to teach the Spring Grove School, "toed" carefully a crack in the floor, lifted her book to a level with her chin, and began.
"Page three, chapter one, paragraph four. 'The Study of History.'"
Wild laughter interrupted her, at which Professor Minturn frowned and sternly commanded silence. He was a nervous, easily irritated man, who never felt that his students worked hard enough.
"Go on, Miss Wenner."
Sarah read through the paragraph with a voice which she strenuously endeavored to make steady. It seemed to her that she had never seen so many th's and v's, which she was just learning to pronounce. But she got safely to the end, and then fled to her seat.
"I have never heard a paragraph read more intelligently," commented Professor Minturn grimly, thereby adding to her confusion.
Of all her lessons, Latin promised to be the most terrible.
"I will not talk to the twins again about learning them Latin," she said to herself, with a sigh. "But the teacher, he seems like a kind man. Perhaps he will help me sometimes a little."