omething about the world and arithmetic.

Secretly the little girl did not think it was of any use going to
school, for she believed the teacher did not know much. She had even
heard the biggest brother say so. And she knew that _she_ knew a great
deal. As soon as she could eat with a spoon, she had begun to hold the
almanac up in front of her; and she had spoken her first word at
fourteen months. It was "Man," and her mother often related how it
happened.

She was rocking the little girl to sleep, she said, and singing,

"There was a little man,
And he had a little gun,"

when there sounded a small voice from the cradle. "Man," it said, and
the little girl's mother, peeking over the side, saw two wide-open blue
eyes. After that, when she was being rocked to sleep, the little girl
always said, "Man." Three months later, she had begun to talk in whole
sentences. At three years she had been able to make all her letters and
read several words, having been taught secretly by the biggest brother.
At four, she knew the youngest brother's reading lessons by heart, and
could spell every word in the First Reader. At this stage of her
education, she put aside such baby things as the "Mother Goose Rhymes,"
and was deeply interested in the doings of the "Swiss Family Robinson."
Winter nights, she had listened to an ever increasing number of stories
that were read aloud by her mother. And now she was occupied with
"Gulliver." But she did not know one of her multiplication tables, and
the neighbor woman, for one, was greatly disgusted with her, and
declared that she did not know whatever would become of the child.

The morning the little girl started to school, with her Second Reader
under one arm, it was so cold that her breath looked like puffs of white
steam. Her mother thought she had better walk instead of ride, and
bundled her up warmly in a big plaid shawl, her beaver cap, and her
thick mittens. When she set off, she was accompanied by the youngest
brother, who was going to be a visitor during the morning session. The
dogs, with the exception of Luffree (who could not be found), had been
chained up along the sunny side of the house to keep them from following
her. And as they saw her disappearing across the reservation road, they
jumped back and forth, pulling at their collars and howling dismally.

The little girl did not look around at them. Her heart was heavy. All
the unhappiness that had been vi