“Yes, sir. Here it is,” returned Toline, pulling a book out of his pocket.
It was a bible, 32mo size, and well bound. On the first page was written the words: “Normal School, Melbourne. First Prize for Geography. Toline of the Lachlan.”
Paganel was beside himself. An Australian well versed in geography. This was marvelous, and he could not help kissing Toline on both cheeks, just as if he had been the Reverend Mr. Paxton himself, on the day of the distribution of prizes. Paganel need not have been so amazed at this circumstance, however, for it is frequent enough in Australian schools. The little savages are very quick in learning geography. They learn it eagerly, and on the other hand, are perfectly averse to the science of arithmetic.
Toline could not understand this outburst of affection on the part of the Frenchman, and looked so puzzled that Lady Helena thought she had better inform him that Paganel was a celebrated geographer and a distinguished professor on occasion.
“A professor of geography!” cried Toline. “Oh, sir, do question me!”
“Question you? Well, I’d like nothing better. Indeed, I was going to do it without your leave. I should very much like to see how they teach geography in the Normal School of Melbourne.”
“And suppose Toline trips you up, Paganel!” said McNabbs.
“What a likely idea!” exclaimed the geographer. “Trip up the Secretary of the Geographical Society of France.”
Their examination then commenced, after Paganel had settled his spectacles firmly on his nose, drawn himself up to his full height, and put on a solemn voice becoming to a professor.
“Pupil Toline, stand up.”