“Now, Thomas, excuse me. That's better, but we can improve that yet.” Mrs. Murray was not to be beaten. The attention of the whole school, even to Jimmie Cameron, as well as that of the visitors, was now concentrated upon the event.
“See,” she went on, “each phrase by itself. 'An hour passed on: the Turk awoke.' Now, try that far.”
Again Thomas tried, this time with complete success. The visitors applauded.
“Ah, that's it, Thomas. I was sure you could do it.”
Thomas relaxed a little, but not unduly. He was not sure what was yet before him.
“Now we will get that 'sentries shriek.' See, Thomas, like this a little,” and she read the words with fine expression.
“You must put more pith, more force, into those words, Thomas. Speak out, man!” interjected the minister, who was wishing it was all over.
“Now, Thomas, I think this will be the last time. You have done very well, but I feel sure you can do better.”
The minister's wife looked at Thomas as she said this, with so fascinating a smile that the frown on Thomas' face deepened into a hideous scowl, and he planted himself with a do-or-die expression in every angle of his solid frame. Realizing the extreme necessity of the moment, he pitched his voice several tones higher than ever before in his life inside a house and before people, and made his final attempt.
“An-hour-passed-on: the-Turk-awoke: That-bright-dream-WAS-his-last.”