open hand. Grasping his coat collar, the teacher shoved him back into the seat.
"You're a mean, contemptible coward; take your books, you are dismissed!"
She returned to her desk, where she nervously wrote a note and sealed it. "Give that to your mother; it will explain why you have been sent home."
"Who cares?" he said, as he came forward to take the note, and then shambled toward the door.
With this incidental excitement over, the class once more settled to work, and slates and pencils were brought into requisition. Miss Latham rapped for attention.
"Write on your slates, for addition, the following: 4-3-6-11-8-13-9," and the musical voice of the pretty teacher intoned the figures clearly and roundly.
"As soon as any one sums them, let me know."
She had scarcely completed the sentence when a little hand, thin and almost transparent, was raised.
"Please, Miss Maisie!"
"What is it, Gilbert?" asked the schoolmistress.
"I have the answer." The boy was very pale,
