In all her preconceived ideas of this examination, she had never dreamed of being catechised, and with a feeling of terror as she thought of that long answer to the question, “What is thy duty to thy neighbor?” and doubted her ability to repeat it, she said: “My sponsors, in baptism gave me the first name of Madeline Amelia, sir,” adding, as she caught and misconstrued the strange gleam in the dark eyes bent upon her, “I am afraid I have forgotten some of the catechism; I did not know it was necessary in order to teach school.”
“Certainly, no; I do not think it is. I beg your pardon,” were Guy Remington’s ejaculatory replies, as he glanced from Madeline to the open door of the adjoining room, where was visible a slate, on which, in huge letters, the amused doctor had written “Blockhead.”
There was something in Madeline’s quiet, womanly, earnest manner which commanded Guy’s respect, or he would have given vent to the laughter which was choking him, and thrown off his disguise. But he could not bear now to undeceive her, and, resolutely turning his back upon the doctor, he sat down by that pile of books and commenced the examination in earnest, asking first her age.
“Going on fifteen,” sounded older to Madeline than “Fourteen and a half,” so “Going on fifteen” was the reply, to which Guy responded: “That is very young, Miss Clyde.”
“Yes, but Mr. Green did not mind. He’s the committeeman. He knew how young I was,” Madeline said, eagerly, her great brown eyes growing large with the look of fear which came so suddenly into them.
Guy noticed the eyes then, and thought them very bright and handsome for brown, but not so bright or handsome as a certain pair of soft blue orbs he knew, and feeling a thrill of satisfaction that sweet Lucy Atherstone was not obliged to sit there in that doctor’s office to be questioned by him or any other man, he said: “Of course, if your employers are satisfied it is nothing to me, only I had associated teaching with women much older than yourself. What is logic, Miss Clyde?”
The abruptness with which he put the question startled Madeline to such a degree that she could not positively tell whether she had ever heard that word before, much less could she recall its meaning, and so she answered frankly, “I don’t know.”
A girl who did not know what logic was did not know much, in Guy’s estimation, but it would not do to stop here, and so he asked her next how many cases there were in Latin!
Maddy felt the hot blood tingling to her very fingertips, the examination had taken a course so widely different from her ideas of what it would probably be. She had never looked inside a Latin grammar, and again her truthful “I don’t know, sir,” fell on Guy’s ear, but this time there was a half despairing tone in the young voice usually so hopeful.
“Perhaps, then, you can conjugate the verb Amo,” Guy said, his manner indicating the doubt he was beginning to feel as to her qualifications.