Perhaps the fatal truth of that phrase, and some sense
of its applicability to the occasion had interfered with the mechanism
which he had set in operation to get rid of the "recitation" for him.
At all events, the machine had to run off its job all at once, or it
wouldn't run at all. Stopped, it stayed stopped, and backing off granted
no new impetus, though he tried, again and again. "Hath this extent
no more rude am I in speech--" He gulped audibly. "Rude rude rude am
I--rude am I in speech--in speech--in speech. Rude am I in speech--"
"Yes," the irritated teacher said, as Ramsey's failing voice continued
huskily to insist upon this point. "I think you are!" And her nerves
were a little soothed by the shout of laughter from the school--it was
never difficult for teachers to be witty. "Go sit down, Ramsey, and do
it after school."
His ears roaring, the unfortunate went to his seat, and, among all
the hilarious faces, one stood out--Dora Yocum's. Her laughter was
precocious; it was that of a confirmed superior, insufferably adult--she
was laughing at him as a grown person laughs at a child.
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