"Correct.—Next may answer, a little louder: Where is Frankfort?"
And that was the way the lesson went. There had been a great deal more noise than usual, and Mr. Purple was almost distracted, for he saw the large boys were "in league," and he dared not call them to account.
Meanwhile active little Patty, who thought she was standing perfectly still, studying that dreadful Ladies' Accidence, had really been spinning about on one foot; and just then she darted forward to tear a bit of shining bark from a white birch stick in the "ears" of the fireplace.
"Master," cried out a mean-spirited boy on the front bench, "Patty's pickin' gum off that ar log; I seed her."
Master Purple strode quickly across the room. He had been longing for a whole hour to give somebody a terrible whipping; and here was a good opportunity.
Of course it was the unmanly little tell-tale he was going to punish?
No, indeed; it was Patty. He seized upon the bewildered little creature with the greatest fury.
"Patty Lyman, what do you mean, young woman? Haven't I laid down a rule, and how dare you disobey? It was only yesterday I feruled Ozen Wiggins for chewing gum."
"I didn't," wailed Patty.
"What? Do you contradict me? We'll see about that! Hold out your hand, you naughty, wicked child!"