The pupils obediently made the change.
“Class, rise,” Mademoiselle commanded, and the class rose.
“Now, all who scratched that out, sit down,” she continued, and everyone except Jacquette sat down.
“My little Willard!” said Mademoiselle, in evident surprise. “What are you walking around here for?”
“Because I didn’t scratch it out,” Jacquette replied, blushing furiously.
“And why not?” The deep dimples appeared in Mademoiselle’s cheeks.
“Because the pronoun ‘mon’ retains the masculine form before a feminine noun beginning with a vowel or h mute,” Jacquette faltered, frightened almost out of her voice at finding herself the only one who knew it.
“Excellent, dearie! I am charmed! You may be seated. And for the rest of you—zero!” Mademoiselle pronounced, dramatically. “I don’t wonder you look chagrined, my pets,” she added, “but you must remember that, in Mademoiselle Dubois’s classes, it pays to keep your wits about you.”
“Well, Mademoiselle,” one of the boys protested, with a shamefaced grin, “it’s mighty hard for us to keep track of all those little things. Now, there’s another point bothers me; the same word has so many different meanings in French. How are we going to tell them apart?”
“Honey, how can I bear to have you ask me so many silly questions!” Mademoiselle answered, instantly, folding her arms high on her chest as she spoke. “Now, listen: There is a big—black—animal, with long—fuzzy—hair, which our President loves to shoot—alas! Do you know the two meanings I gave to the word ‘bear’ in that remark?”