"I don't care what Teacher Thomas said," I retorted. "You must say
Dug--Dug--Douglas."

"But Teacher Thomas is the best speaker they is," piped in Lulu Ann
Nummler from the end of the bench.

"I don't care if Teacher Thomas can recite better than Demosthenes
himself," I snapped. "In this school we say Douglas." My crutch
emphasized this mandate, but I could not see how it was received, for
every scholar's face was hidden from me by a book.

"Now, Abraham, six lines."

Abraham Lincoln Spiker was two years younger than Ira Snarkle, but he
seemed much taller and correspondingly thinner. In our valley the boys
have a fashion of being born long, and getting shorter and fatter as they
grow older. Abraham's mother in making his clothes had provided against
the day when he would weigh two hundred pounds, and consequently his
garments hung all around him, giving him an exceedingly dispirited look.
His hair relieved this somewhat, for it was white and always stood gaily
on end, defying brush and comb. Daniel Arker, a sturdy black-haired lad,
would have done fuller justice to the passage that fell to Abraham, for
the Spiker boy with his gentle lisp never shone in elocution; but our
reading class is a lottery, as we go from scholar to scholar down the
line. The lot falling to him, Abraham pushed himself up from the bench,
grasped his book fiercely with both hands, and fixed his eyes intently on
the ceiling.

"Go on," I commanded kindly.

"'Fierth broke he forth,'" lisped the boy.

"Louder. Put some spirit in it," I cried. "'Fierce broke he forth!'"
And my crutch beat the floor.

"'Fierth broke he forth, and durtht thou then to bared----"

"To beard," I corrected.

"'Bared the lion in hith den--the Doog-dug-lath----'" Abraham stopped
and took a long breath. I just gazed at him.

"'In hith hall,'" he shouted. "'And h-o-p-hop-e-s-t-hopest thou then
unthscathed to go?'"

The boy's knees began to bend under him, and he was reaching a long, thin
arm out behind hunting for the bench. He was fleeing. I knew it. I
warned him.

"No--go on--read on."

Abraham sighed and drew his sleeve across his mouth from the elbow to the
tips of his fingers. Then he sang:

"'Noby--Thent Bride--ofBoth--wellno--updraw--bridgegrooms--whatward--erho
--lettheportculluthfall!'"

Young Spiker collapsed.

"'Lord Marmion turned; well was his need,'" I cried, "if Douglas ever
addressed him in that fashion."

"Now watch me, b