"Let me hear how you can read," she said.
[CHAPTER VI.]
A NEW WORLD.
I could read aloud well, unusually well, I think, for mamma had taken great pains with my pronunciation. She was especially anxious that both Haddie and I should speak well, and not catch the Great Mexington accent, which was both peculiar and ugly.
But the book which Miss Broom had put before me was hardly a fair test. I don't remember what it was—some very dry history, I think, bristling with long words, and in very small print. I did not take in the sense of what I was reading in the very least, and so, of course, I read badly, tumbling over the long words, and putting no intelligence into my tone. I think, too, my teacher was annoyed at the purity of my accent, for no one could possibly have mistaken her for anything but what she was—a native of Middleshire. She corrected me once or twice, then shut the book impatiently.
"Very bad," she said, "very bad indeed for eleven years old."
"I am not eleven, Miss Broom," I said. "I am only nine past."