That afternoon because the lessons were rather difficult, he hoped to get near to his old place, if not to reach it altogether. When the first class was called, his heart beat just a little faster than while he was preparing his lesson. As he arose from his seat to go, he breathed a little prayer to God, that he might remember well what he had just been learning. Several problems were missed and as many times somebody trapped up. But not every problem that others had mistaken reached Charlie. One time he thought he would now trap three, when he himself missed, and another got it. In trapping, however, the close of the recitation found him "third" but not "first." And so the class was dismissed for that day. The last in the afternoon was the spelling class. The teacher frequently began to pronounce the words on the lower part of the page first. "Tournament" was the first word to-day. The next was "constitute." "Coadjutor" was Charlie's first word to spell. "Inaugurate" was mis-spelled near the foot of the class. "Sumac" was missed, and the scholars below were eager. "Ducat" enabled the one above Charlie to trap two. "Joust" was spelled correctly. "Oolite" and "vocable" were missed several times. The lesson was almost closed. "Compass," said the teacher. "Fortnight." "Revolt." That was Charlie's. "Caoutchouc." "C-a-o-u-t-c-h--c-h--can't spell it," said the little man next below Charlie. "Next," said the teacher. "C-a-o-u-t-c-h-o-u-c-e." "Next." "C-o-o-c-h-o-o--o-o--." "Next." "C-h-o-o--" "Next," and Charlie began to wish he had been foot now, so he could get up more than one at a time. "K-a-u-o-t-c-h." "Next," and all eyes began to look toward the head of the class, for the unfortunate word was sure to go there. "Caoutchouc," again pronounced the teacher, clearly. The bright little girl at the head of the class was a good speller, but hearing so many efforts, she became confused with the word, and although spelling slowly at it, she missed it. "Next." "Caoutchouc, is it, teacher?" "Yes, sir." "C-o-u-t-c-h-o-u-c." "Next." "C-o-u-t-c-h-a-o-u-c." "Next," and every kind of a way was given to spell that word. It passed on down the class to Charlie. He was waiting, not a little anxiously for it. "C-a-o-u-t-c-h-o-u-c caoutchouc," and he marched up head with a smile that showed gladness for himself, and love for those in the class at the head of which he now stood. Some words more and the lesson was recited. "Charlie," said Earl Rinehart after the bell rang, and they were passing out of the door, "I was glad you got that word right." "Why so, Earl?" "Because I'd rather have you head than any one else, even if I do have to be second or third." And having crossed over the stile, five of them joined in a row and ran a footrace down the little hill, past Bell's and Newcomer's, on down the road,--save one, who turned off to the right quickly and hurried into the house to tell his mamma of his good fortune in the spelling class.