“And if you aren’t very good in arithmetic, you know all about English and French and Italian money,” Harold asserted. “I think that’s great!”
“It’s very easy to learn that,” Maida said deprecatingly. “How I wish I knew fractions and percentage and square root—like you, Rosie.”
“Rosie was the smartest girl in the room in arithmetic,” Dicky declared. “She could beat any one of us, and as for mental arithmetic—whew! And she always won in the spelling matches.”
“I never was in a spelling match in my life,” Maida said in a grieved tone. “How I should enjoy it—except of course that I’d fail in the first word they gave me.”
“Yes,” Dicky informed her, “they always give you something like receive and believe or Mississippi or separate! I shall never learn how to spell separate as long as I live.”
“I’ll tell you how to remember it,” Harold offered. “You know there’s a city in South America called Para. Well, I always remember that there’s a Para right in the middle of separate.”
“Gee that makes it easy!” Dicky’s voice was grateful. “I won’t forget that.” After an instant he added, “I hate school!”
“So do I,” said Rosie.
“So do I,” said Laura.