He waited an instant while two or three mothers bore out great armfuls of slumbering or fretting infancy, and a number of young men sank down into the vacated chairs. Then he stepped down from the platform, drew back four or five yards from the class, opened the spelling-book, scanned the first word, closed the book with his finger at the place, lifted it high above his head, and cried—
“Claude! Claude, my brave scholar, always perfect, ah you ready?” He gave the little book a half whirl round, and dashed forward towards the chosen scholar, crying as he came—
“In-e-rad-i-ca-bility!”
Claude’s face suddenly set in a stony vacancy, and with his eyes staring straight before him he responded—
“I-n, in-, e, inerad-, r-a-d, rad-, inerad-, ineraddy-, ineradica-, c-a, ca, ineradica-, ineradicabili-, b-i-elly- billy, ineradicabili-, ineradicabili-, t-y, ty, ineradicability.”
“Right! Claude, my boy! my always good scholar, right!” The master drew back to his starting-place as he spoke, re-opened the book, shut it again, lifted it high in the air, cried, “Madelaine, my dear chile, prepare!” whirled the book and rushed upon her with—
“In-de-fat-i-ga-bil-ly-ty!”
Madelaine turned to stone, and began—
“I-n, een, d-e, de-, inde-, indefat-, indefat—fat—f-a-t, fat, indefat, indefatty, i, ty, indefati-, indefatiga-, g-a, ga, indefatiga-, indefatigabilly, b-i-elly, billy, indefatigabili-, t-y, ty, indefatigability.”
“O, Madelaine, my chile, you make yo’ teacher proud! prah-ood, my chile!” Bonaventure’s hand rested a moment tenderly on her head as he looked first towards the audience and then towards the stranger. Then he drew off for the third word. He looked at it twice before he called it. Then—