"Well, Pomp, do you think you know your lesson?" he asks.
"Dunno, Mass' Frank; I reckon so."
"You may bring your book to me, and I will try you."
Pomp rose from his stool and sidled up to Frank with no great
alacrity.
"What's that letter, Pomp?" asked the young teacher, pointing out
the initial letter of the alphabet.
Pomp answered correctly.
"And what is the next?"
Pomp shifted from one foot to the other, and stared vacantly out
of the window, but said nothing.
"Don't you know?"
" 'Pears like I don't 'member him, Mass' Frank."
Here Frank had recourse to a system of mnemonics frequently
resorted to by teachers in their extremity.
"What's the name of the little insect that stings people
sometimes, Pomp?"
"Wasp, Mass' Frank," was the confident reply.
"No, I don't mean that. I mean the bee."
"Yes, Mass' Frank."
"Well, this is B."
Pomp looked at it attentively, and, after a pause, inquired,
"Where's him wings, Mass' Frank?"
Frank bit his lips to keep from laughing. "I don't mean that this
is a bee that makes honey," he explained, "only it has the same
name.
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