On nearer examination, Nono's spelling was found to be most exceptionable.
"Have you never been taught spelling at school, Nono?" asked Alma, very seriously.
"Oh yes!" he answered cheerfully, and forthwith drew himself up as he stood, and recited the rules for the various ways in which the English sound "oh" may be represented in Swedish, giving the proper examples under the rule. This little Nono could rattle off in grand school-recitation style, though these etymological gymnastics never bore on his practices as a writer.
Of such rules Alma knew nothing. She had learned Swedish spelling on quite another principle. For years she had copied a Swedish poem every day for her father (whether with him or away from him), in pretty little books, which were in due time presented to him with the inscription at the beginning, "From his devoted daughter."
Alma now gave Nono the "psalm book," and bade him copy the hymn carefully. He did not dare to touch the dainty little volume, for his hands were far from immaculate after his morning's work. He managed, though, with his knuckles to steady it against Baxter's "Saints' Rest" and "Thomas à Kempis," which in choice bindings found their place among Alma's devotional books, more in memory of her mother, to whom they had belonged, than for any special use they were to the present owner.
Nono's copy proved fair and correct, for he had the idea that whatever he did must be done well. He signed his name, and put the date below, as he was requested, adding a superfluous supplementary flourish, like an expression of rejoicing that the trial was over.
On one side of the table was a little porcelain statuette that fixed his attention. On an oval slab lay a fine Newfoundland dog, while a boy, evidently just rescued from drowning, was stretched beside him, the dank hair and clinging clothes of the child telling the story as well as his closed eyes and limp, helpless hands.
"Is he really drowned? is he dead?" asked Nono, forgetting all about the spelling, as did his teacher when she heard his question.
"That is one of my treasures, Nono," she said. "The princess gave it to my mother. She modelled it with her own hands—the group after which this was made, I mean. You have heard about the good princess, Nono?"
Nono shook his head and looked very guilty. He knew the king's name, and believed him to be quite equal to David; but as to the queen and all the "royal family," he was in most republican ignorance.