After the recitation in geography, Squire Griffiths, who had studied up one or two questions in the atlas before coming, thought it time to take part.
“Can you tell me,” he said, straightening himself up with dignity, after a preparatory cough, “can you tell me where is the river Nigger?”
I have attempted to indicate the squire’s pronunciation.
There was a little titter in the class, and Walter himself, though he preserved his gravity, looked a little red in the face.
“Answer the gentleman’s question,” he said.
“In Africa,” said one of the girls.
“Quite right,” said the squire, nodding wisely.
“Where is the Island of Madagascar?”
“In the Mediterranean Sea,” answered promptly the poorest scholar in the class.
Walter was about to correct the mistake, when, to his surprise, Squire Griffiths said: “Correct. Mr. Howard, your class is quite purficient. I have no more questions to ask.”