“That will do,” said the teacher sharply. “Tim Roon, are you chewing gum again? Come and put it in the waste basket.”
Tim gulped hastily.
“I’ve swallowed it,” he declared.
Miss Mason frowned.
“I hope that some day you will do as I tell you,” she said impatiently. “Now ready. Robert Blossom, if I go down to Mr. Dryburg’s shop 68 and buy two yards of percale at sixteen cents a yard, how much must I pay?”
Bobby hastily counted on his fingers.
“Thirty-two cents,” he answered.
“Stand up straight,” commanded Miss Mason. “And if I buy three yards of braid at ten cents a yard, how much will that be?”
Meg looked up from her writing lesson to watch Bobby’s hands, though she knew that if Miss Mason saw her she would be scolded severely. He held them behind him and his fingers fairly galloped as he used them for an adding machine.
“Thirty cents for braid,” stammered Bobby.