Palmer Davis was no better, and Hester Scott frankly burst into tears when called upon. By 70 this time most of the class had forgotten what the problem was, but Miss Mason refused to repeat it. She said they should be able to remember it.
“Well, Bertrand?” Miss Mason spoke to Bertrand Ashe, a rather dull boy, and one who habitually made mistakes when sent to the blackboard to work out examples.
Bertrand stood up, his sleepy eyes fixed earnestly on his teacher.
“The percale and the braid came to sixty-two cents altogether,” he announced, “so if you gave Mr. Dryburg a dollar, you would have thirty-eight cents in change.”
Bertrand sat down.
“Right,” said Miss Mason. “I’m glad I have one pupil who knows how to use his brain. Some of those who might have had eight on their cards this month needn’t be surprised to find a six. Robert, how much is seven times six?”
“I don’t know,” muttered Bobby ungraciously.
He did know, but he was miffed to think he had missed a problem that Bertrand Ashe had been able to solve. 71
“That isn’t the kind of spirit to show,” said Miss Mason sharply. “Instead of being resentful, you should resolve to keep your head next time. Nothing in the world but panic made you miss that question, Robert. Now go to the board and take the example I read you.”
Bobby sat still, his feet locked rebelliously in the iron framework of his desk.