Glengarry Schooldays [10]
correct pronunciation, and hence he hoped the class might get off easily. The dominie took the book reluctantly. What he desired was the "arith-MET-ic" class, and did not care to be "put off" with mere reading.
"Well, Ranald, let us hear you," he rather growled. Ranald went at his work with quiet confidence; he knew all the words.
"Page 187, Marco Bozzaris.
"At midnight in his guarded tent, The Turk lay dreaming of the hour When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, Should tremble at his power."
And so on steadily to the end of his verse.
"Next!"
The next was "Betsy Dan," the daughter of Dan Campbell, of "The Island." Now, Betsy Dan was very red in hair and face, very shy and very nervous, and always on the point of giggles. It was a trial to her to read on ordinary days, but to-day it was almost more than she could bear. To make matters worse, sitting immediately behind her, and sheltered from the eye of the master, sat Jimmie Cameron, Don's youngest brother. Jimmie was always on the alert for mischief, and ever ready to go off into fits of laughter, which he managed to check only by grabbing tight hold of his nose. Just now he was busy pulling at the strings of Betsy Dan's apron with one hand, while with the other he was hanging onto his nose, and swaying in paroxysms of laughter.
Very red in the face, Betsy Dan began her verse.
"At midnight in the forest shades, Bozzaris--"
Pause, while Betsy Dan clutched behind her.
"--Bozzaris ranged--"
("Tchik! tchik!") a snicker from Jimmie in the rear.
"--his Suliote band, True as the steel of--"
("im-im,") Betsy Dan struggles with her giggles.
"Elizabeth!" The master's voice is stern and sharp.
Betsy Dan bridles up, while Jimmie is momentarily sobered by the master's tone.
"True as the steel of their tried blades, Heroes in heart and hand. There had the Persians thousands stood--"
("Tchik! tchik! tchik,") a long snicker from Jimmie, whose nose cannot be kept quite in control. It is becoming too much for poor Betsy Dan, whose lips begin to twitch.
"There--"
("im-im, thit-tit-tit,") Betsy Dan is making mighty efforts to hold in her giggles.
"--had the glad earth (tchik!) drunk their blood, On old Pl-a-a-t-t-e-a-'s day."
Whack! whack!
"Elizabeth Campbell!" The master's tone was quite terrible.
"I don't care! He won't leave me alone. He's just--just (sob) pu--pulling at me (sob) all the time."
By this time Betsy's apron was up to her eyes, and her sobs were quite tempestuous.
"James, stand up!" Jimmie slowly rose, red with laughter, and covered with confusion.
"I-I-I di-dn't touch her!" he protested.
"O--h!" said little Aleck Sinclair, who had been enjoying Jimmie's prank hugely; "he was--"
"That'll do, Aleck, I didn't ask you. James is quite able to tell me himself. Now, James!"
"I-I-I was only just doing that," said Jimmie, sober enough now, and terrified at the results of his mischief.
"Doing what?" said the master, repressing a smile at Jimmie's woebegone face.
"Just-just that!" and Jimmie touched gingerly with the point of his finger the bows of Betsy Dan's apron-strings.
"Oh, I see. You were annoying Elizabeth while she was reading. No wonder she found it difficult. Now, do you think that was very nice?"
Jimmie twisted himself into a semicircle.
"N-o-o."
"Come here, James!" Jimmie looked frightened, came round the class, and up to the master.
"Now, then," continued the master, facing Jimmie round in front of Betsy Dan, who was still using her apron upon her eyes, "tell Elizabeth you are sorry."
Jimmie stood in an agony of silent awkwardness, curving himself in varying directions.
"Are you sorry?"
"Y-e-e-s."
"Well, tell her so."
Jimmie drew a long breath and braced himself for the ordeal. He stood a moment or two, working his eyes up shyly from Betsy Dan's shoes to her face, caught her glancing at him from behind her apron, and began, "I-I-I'm (tchik! tchik) sor-ry," (tchik). Betsy Dan's look was too much for the little chap's gravity.
"Well, Ranald, let us hear you," he rather growled. Ranald went at his work with quiet confidence; he knew all the words.
"Page 187, Marco Bozzaris.
"At midnight in his guarded tent, The Turk lay dreaming of the hour When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, Should tremble at his power."
And so on steadily to the end of his verse.
"Next!"
The next was "Betsy Dan," the daughter of Dan Campbell, of "The Island." Now, Betsy Dan was very red in hair and face, very shy and very nervous, and always on the point of giggles. It was a trial to her to read on ordinary days, but to-day it was almost more than she could bear. To make matters worse, sitting immediately behind her, and sheltered from the eye of the master, sat Jimmie Cameron, Don's youngest brother. Jimmie was always on the alert for mischief, and ever ready to go off into fits of laughter, which he managed to check only by grabbing tight hold of his nose. Just now he was busy pulling at the strings of Betsy Dan's apron with one hand, while with the other he was hanging onto his nose, and swaying in paroxysms of laughter.
Very red in the face, Betsy Dan began her verse.
"At midnight in the forest shades, Bozzaris--"
Pause, while Betsy Dan clutched behind her.
"--Bozzaris ranged--"
("Tchik! tchik!") a snicker from Jimmie in the rear.
"--his Suliote band, True as the steel of--"
("im-im,") Betsy Dan struggles with her giggles.
"Elizabeth!" The master's voice is stern and sharp.
Betsy Dan bridles up, while Jimmie is momentarily sobered by the master's tone.
"True as the steel of their tried blades, Heroes in heart and hand. There had the Persians thousands stood--"
("Tchik! tchik! tchik,") a long snicker from Jimmie, whose nose cannot be kept quite in control. It is becoming too much for poor Betsy Dan, whose lips begin to twitch.
"There--"
("im-im, thit-tit-tit,") Betsy Dan is making mighty efforts to hold in her giggles.
"--had the glad earth (tchik!) drunk their blood, On old Pl-a-a-t-t-e-a-'s day."
Whack! whack!
"Elizabeth Campbell!" The master's tone was quite terrible.
"I don't care! He won't leave me alone. He's just--just (sob) pu--pulling at me (sob) all the time."
By this time Betsy's apron was up to her eyes, and her sobs were quite tempestuous.
"James, stand up!" Jimmie slowly rose, red with laughter, and covered with confusion.
"I-I-I di-dn't touch her!" he protested.
"O--h!" said little Aleck Sinclair, who had been enjoying Jimmie's prank hugely; "he was--"
"That'll do, Aleck, I didn't ask you. James is quite able to tell me himself. Now, James!"
"I-I-I was only just doing that," said Jimmie, sober enough now, and terrified at the results of his mischief.
"Doing what?" said the master, repressing a smile at Jimmie's woebegone face.
"Just-just that!" and Jimmie touched gingerly with the point of his finger the bows of Betsy Dan's apron-strings.
"Oh, I see. You were annoying Elizabeth while she was reading. No wonder she found it difficult. Now, do you think that was very nice?"
Jimmie twisted himself into a semicircle.
"N-o-o."
"Come here, James!" Jimmie looked frightened, came round the class, and up to the master.
"Now, then," continued the master, facing Jimmie round in front of Betsy Dan, who was still using her apron upon her eyes, "tell Elizabeth you are sorry."
Jimmie stood in an agony of silent awkwardness, curving himself in varying directions.
"Are you sorry?"
"Y-e-e-s."
"Well, tell her so."
Jimmie drew a long breath and braced himself for the ordeal. He stood a moment or two, working his eyes up shyly from Betsy Dan's shoes to her face, caught her glancing at him from behind her apron, and began, "I-I-I'm (tchik! tchik) sor-ry," (tchik). Betsy Dan's look was too much for the little chap's gravity.