“My gough!” said Pete, touching the book with awe.
Next day he pored over the dictionary for an hour, but when he raised his face it wore a look of scepticism and scorn. “This spelling-book isn't taiching you nothing, darling,” he said.
“Isn't it. Pete?”
“No, nothing,” said Pete. “Here I've been looking for an ordinary word—a very ordinary word—and it isn't in.”
“What word is it?” said Elate, leaning over his shoulder.
“Love,” said Pete. “See,” pointing his big forefinger, “that's where it ought to be, and where is it?”
“But love begins lo,” said Kate, “and you're looking at lu. Here it is—love.”
Pete gave a prolonged whistle, then fell back in his chair, looked slowly up and said, “So you must first know how the word begins; is that it, Kitty?”
“Why, yes,” said Kate.
“Then it's you that's taiching the spelling-book, darling; so we'll put it back on the shelf.”