“Georgia,” the guest replied.
“The class may put an outline of Georgia on the board,” said the principal. “North—northeast—east—southwest. Put in the ranges of mountains.” Six rivers were drawn in and the location of six towns marked. It was done too rapidly for even a glance at a neighbor’s map, and with few mistakes.
When the maps were done, the guest spoke highly of the work, the accuracy and the speed manifested. “It was quite a coincidence,” he said, “that their lesson should have been my own State.”
“Their lesson was on Southern Asia,” said the principal quietly, “but what they have once learned, they are responsible for at any moment. Will you say a few words to the pupils?” he asked the committee man, for that was the courtesy demanded by the occasion.
The committee man rose rather ponderously and looked the room over. Then he said:
“You’ve studied about the equator, of course; and now I want to know what a ship does when it comes to the equator. Does it sail over it, or break through it, or what?”
No one said a word. The duller pupils were a little shy. The brighter ones were afraid of some catch, and there was silence. The committee man looked up and down the class. Finally, he pointed his long finger to the farthest corner of the room and said:
“I’d like that boy with red hair to answer the question.”
The boy with red hair was sensitive about bright colors. His face turned scarlet while the rest of the class giggled.
“I want that boy with red hair to answer,” repeated the committee man. “I’ve noticed that when a boy has red hair, he usually has some pretty good brains under it.”