"Did you git 'em right, Vosh?"
"Guess I did."
"Would it do ye any good to have some other kind of spellin'-book, so you'd know more words?"
"That isn't the trouble, mother. It kind o' seems to me I know so many now, I can't remember half of 'em."
"Don't you git spelled down, now, Vosh. You won't, will ye, not with Susie Hudson and her brother a-lookin' on?"
Vosh's face put on a pretty sober expression as he muttered,—
"Guess I wouldn't like that."
The quiet winter days went by rapidly, and nothing came in them to interrupt in any way the steadily growing excitement over the great spelling-match.
All the arrangements for it were discussed over and over, until at last there was nothing more to be settled, and the set day came.
"Corry," said Port, when the sleigh drove to the door after supper, and they were hurrying on their overcoats, "seems to me I couldn't spell the shortest word I ever heard."