The little squirrels shook their tails and tittered and said "tut—tut—tut—," but the teacher looked up and gently said—
"You are not one of the class; please keep quiet, Chattie" (which was the parrot's name).
"I am above their class anyway," replied Chattie.
"Please do not take away their attention," said the teacher patiently.
"Yes, the friskies need all their attention. It is the first rule of getting on. It was the first thing that helped me to speak anyway." And here Chattie stopped, believing that she had said a wise thing (which indeed was true), and that it was prudent to stop now for fear of offending her master.
"Put up your slates, all that have got the answer down," requested the teacher.
Every slate went up except one. Examining them, Robin saw that four had the correct answer, seven were wrong and one was unfinished. The teacher commended the successful pupils, helped those that were mistaken, and worked out the sum for the pupil that had stuck. This took a long time, for Robin wished everyone to understand before going further. He then made a sign to Chattie to give the signal for dismissal of the class. Chattie did so, giving a loud shrill whistle, ending in a long cat-like yell that filled the woods and made the friskies and Robin laugh outright; which greatly pleased the parrot, for she loved to talk and make a noise and be well thought of. The signal over, the squirrels marched away to their several homes, laid aside their slates and went out to play.
"You do not believe much in cram," said Chattie, as the pupils marched away.
"Mother says that 'cramming makes the figures blurred and weak; education makes them bright and strong.'"
"Ah," replied Chattie, "but laziness makes no figure at all."