"That?" said Dotty, glancing at it; "that's a monkey; what you s'pose?"
"O, no! it's pretty near a monkey, not quite: it's what we call an ape."
"A nape!" echoed Dotty, pointing at it, and laughing. "O, my! you don' know nothin' at all but just—do you, Prudy Parlin? Funny gell to keep school! Didn't you never see a monkey? I've seen 'em dancing tummy-tum-tum, and a man making music with a little mite of a churn."
"Well, perhaps this is a monkey, and ape is its baby name," said Prudy, doubtfully.
"Got a face like a dried apple—hasn't he?" said the young pupil, admiringly. "Rally round the flag, boys!"
"Hush! You mustn't sing in school. The name of this letter is A. Look at it ever so long, and say it over."
"A, A, A," repeated Dotty, to the tune of "John Brown."
Prudy took courage. "All right, only you mustn't sing. I couldn't speak the letter better myself than you do, so soon. A stands for ape."
"No, for monkey."
The little teacher yielded the point. She had begun her school with plenty of love and patience.