"I forgot one thing," said the teacher, as her obedient pupils stood upright again, with flushed faces. "You ought to have brought me a present, every one of you, such as a fig of tobacco rolled up in a banana leaf, or—"
"We didn't know you chewed," said Florence, laughing.
"Now you take your seats. No, not there! On the floor! What do you suppose? You're in India, children. There are mats on the floor (we'll pretend)."
The children seated themselves.
"O, we ought to say a prayer to the Muse; but I can't remember what it is. No matter. Multiplication Table comes next. Mother says it's just the same thing in India that it is in America."
The school repeated part of the table, making very absurd mistakes intentionally. Susy walked the floor like a general. "Angeline, please look up some more palm-leaf fans, and some splinters of wood."
Angeline was the soul of good nature, and left her baking to hunt in the meal-room for the fans.
"A pretty kind of school!" growled Johnny. "Don't they do anything out there in Hindoo but just fan themselves?"
"O, we pretend these fans are green, just off the trees. We are studying arithmetic, all so fast, and ciphering on these leaves with reeds—(that's our splinters). Indian boys don't know what slates are. They think these leaves are good enough. They come off of the tallest palm trees. Fans don't grow in this country. Where did you ever see a leaf as broad as this?"
"Poh, plenty of 'em in Kennebec County!" said Johnny, confidently.