“‘What is your name?’
“‘He—Hebe Pocock,’ exclaimed the fellow, only half sensing what had happened to him.
“‘Hebe?’ repeated the master, with a sneer. ‘You look like a ’Hebe.’ Go take your seat.’
“And do you know,” laughed Eve, “that Hebe was almost the best behaved boy in the school all that term?”
“Oh!” laughed Jess, “it must be lots of fun to go to an ungraded school like that one.”
“It’s all according to the teacher,” Eve said. “When we had a poor teacher it was just a scramble for the scholars to learn anything. The big ones helped the little ones. But our present teacher, Miss Harris, is a college girl and she is fine. But some funny things happen because we have the old-fashioned district system of government, with ‘school trustees’ elected every year. This year at the far end of the district they put in old Mr. Moose, a very illiterate man, for trustee. And one of the girls was telling me about the day he visited school to ‘examine’ it. That is the method, you know; each trustee makes an official visit and is supposed to find out in that visit how the teachers are getting along.”
“Tell us about it, Eve,” urged Laura.
“Why,” laughed Eve, “Mr. Moose came in and sat on the teacher’s platform for a while, listening and watching, and showing himself to be dreadfully uncomfortable. But he thought he had to make some attempt to examine the school, so when Miss Harris called the spelling class he reached for the speller and said he’d put out a few words. So he read to the first boy:
“‘Spell “eggpit.”’
“‘E—double g—p—i—t,’ says the boy.