“Beaux,” said Dear Teacher.
The little girl next the head stood up. She missed. She burst into audible weeping. Nerves were giving out along the line. It went wildly down. Emmy Lou was the last. Emmy Lou stood up. It was the first word of a column on page 22. Emmy Lou could see it. She looked at Dear Teacher.
“B,” said Emmy Lou, “e-a-u-x, beaux.”
The intervening mothers had gone to their seats, and Kitty and Emmy Lou were left.
Kitty spelled triumphantly. Emmy Lou spelled steadily. Even Dear Teacher’s voice showed a touch of the strain.
She gave out half a dozen words. Then “receive,” said Dear Teacher.
It was Kitty’s turn. Kitty stood up. Dear Teacher’s back was to the blackboard. The Trustee and the visiting gentleman were also facing the class. Kitty’s eyes, as she stood up, were on the board.
“The best speller in this room is to recieve this
medal,”
was the assurance on the board.
Kitty tossed her little head. “R-e, re, c-i-e-v-e, ceive, receive,” spelled Kitty, her eyes on the blackboard.