"Co'ect, my chile! And yet, sir, and yet, 'tis he that they call Crebiche, because like the crawfish advancing backwardly. But to the next! another word! another word!" The spelling, its excitements, its moments of agonizing suspense, and its triumphs, went on. The second class is up. It spells in two, even in three, syllables. Toutou is in it. He gets tremendously wrought up; cannot keep two feet on the ground at once; spells fast when the word is his; smiles in response to the visitor's smile, the only one who dares; leans out and looks down the line with a knuckle in his mouth as the spelling passes down; wrings one hand as his turn approaches again; catches his word in mid-air and tosses it off, and marks with ecstasy the triumph and pride written on the face of his master. "But, sir," cries Bonaventure, "why consume the spelling-book? Give, yourself, if you please, to Toutou, a word not therein comprise'." He glanced around condescendingly upon the people of Grande Pointe. Chat-oue is in a front seat. Toutou gathers himself for the spring, and the stranger ponders a moment and then gives--"Florida!" "F-l-o, flo, warr-de-warr-da,--Florida!" A smile broke from the visitor's face unbidden, but-- "Right! my chile! co'ect, Toutou!" cried Bonaventure, running and patting the little hero on the back and head by turns. "Sir, let us"--He stopped short. The eyes of the house were on Chat-oue. He had risen to his feet and made a gesture for the visitor's attention. As the stranger looked at him he asked:-- "He spell dat las word r-i-i-ight?" But the visitor with quiet gravity said, "Yes, that was all right;" and a companion pulled the Raccoon down into his seat again. Bonaventure resumed. "Sir, let us not exhoss the time with spelling! You shall now hear them read." The bell taps, the class retires; again, and the reading class is up. They are the larger girls and boys. But before they begin the master has a word for their fathers and mothers. "Friends and fellow-citizens of Gran' Point', think not at the suppi-zing goodness of yo' chil'run' reading. 'Tis to this branch has been given the largest attention and most as_sid_u'ty, so thus to comprise puffection in the English tongue, whether speaking aw otherwise." He turned to the stranger beside him. "I am not satisfied whilst the slightest accent of French is remaining. But you shall judge if they read not as if in their own vernaculary. And you shall choose the piece!" The visitor waived the privilege, but Bonaventure gently insisted, and he selected Jane Taylor's little poem, "The Violet," glancing across at Sidonie as he himself read out the first two lines:-- "Down in a green and shady bed A modest violet grew." Bonaventure proclaimed the title and page and said:-- "Claude, p'oceed!" And Claude read:--