"I was just going to say O—that's easy! P—Q—R—little wormy thing—Oh, bother T—U—V—W—let's see, see-saw, X—wizie!" he concluded triumphantly and with a sudden movement he snatched the apple from Ivy's lap.
"Come back, you didn't earn it!" commanded Ivy.
"I did, didn't I, Nettie?" he cried, digging his uneven little teeth into the rosy cheek of the apple.
"Come here at once!"
Ivy reached for her crutches but Nettie, too quick for her, grabbed one and fled with Claude, while Ivy in a rage threw the other after them. Across the floor it sailed and hit against the wall with a resounding clap.
"That's the end of my teaching, and everything I do trying to help others ends just that way! Now in the story-books the children are good and no matter how dull, anxious to learn and thankful to be taught, and the teacher gets some satisfaction out of it! I believe the only respectable children are in books; the others are imps! Dear me! I feel like knocking my head against the wall!" She threw herself upon the sofa and pressed her face against its fir-scented cushions.
Presently soft footsteps were heard. A lady entered the room, and glancing from the discarded crutch to the couch, crossed the floor and placed her hand caressingly on the curly mop of hair.
"Are you asleep, Ivy?" she inquired gently.
"No, mamma, just thinking."
"Is there anything I can do? Here is a cool drink."