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Once more he picked up his reader, and marched way up the Brook. He had just begun the lines all over again when Miss Cross Patch the Guinea Hen ran out from behind the barn and screeched horribly–just as he was making that fine gesture, too.

“GAWKE’E!–GAWKE’E!–GAWKE’E!”

Now to be called gawky when he thought the gesture was particularly graceful, was indeed discouraging. And, to add to his discomfort, when he tried it again–for the hundredth time, it seemed–the cows in the pasture stretched their red muzzles over the bars and called:

“BOOOOOOO!”

–just as if they wanted him to stop. And the horses whinnied:

“FUNN-NN-NN-NNY!”

It was no use, so Jehosophat rushed into the house again, stuffed some cotton in his ears, and went up in the attic, where he was sure he wouldn’t be disturbed.

Here he succeeded pretty well, and had learned two verses, and the name–which was quite important–when the supper bell rang. So he felt he had earned that nice glass of creamy milk, and the big slice of gingerbread, especially the thick chocolate icing on top. It was an extra thick piece, too, which Mother gave him, probably as a prize for all his hard work.

Next morning, on the way to school, he was reciting Casabianca for practice. He tried it on the Purple Crackles that flew in the fields by the blackberry bushes; the little Gold Finches that swayed on the grasses; and the topknotted Kingbirds on the telegraph wires overhead.

And he thought he was getting on pretty well with “The boy stood on the burning deck,” when a voice took the second line right out of his mouth:

“Eating peanuts by the peck!”

Angrily he turned, and there were Fatty Hamm and Reddy Toms, Dicky Means too, and Lizzie Fizzletree, all making faces at him and mocking him with funny gestures. Surely no teacher ever taught gestures like those.

They began it all over again, reciting together. And this is the piece they made of it–you never would have recognized poor Casabianca at all:

“The boy stood on the burning deck
Eating peanuts by the peck.
His father called, he would not go
Because he loved his peanuts so!!!”

“Stop,” yelled Jehosophat, “that isn’t it at all.”

“‘Tis, too,” shouted Fatty and the others together, and they repeated in one breath, as fast as they could:

“‘Sfathercalled andewouldn’tgo
Causeeloved ‘ispeanutsso.”

Yes, every time Jehosophat tried to tell them what it really was, they kept shouting in singsong voices, faster and faster:

“Fathercalled ‘ewoodengo
Causeeloved ‘ispeanutsso.”

And every once in a while that little imp Lizzie Fizzletree would make outrageous bows, almost down to the ground, in imitation of Jehosophat.

Next day was the day, the great day. And all the boys came dressed in new suits, or suits made over from Father’s old trousers, with stiff collars, and ties of red, or blue, or brown; and the girls had pretty white dresses with sashes sticking out like butterflies’ wings.

Jehosophat thought they did resemble butterflies until he looked down at their feet; and then very crossly he decided that those feet spoiled “the effect.” You see, he was getting to use and to think in big words now.

But while he was looking at the regiment of feet, along came Mr. Humbleby, the Presidentboardofeducation, and all the County Trustees, and the proud parents from near and from far. You could see a long line of buggies and surries and carryalls lined against the fence.

Then the signal was given, and the Teacher took her pointer and rose, and the scholars smoothed their sashes, or their hair, and rose, too; and one and all sang,–

“My country, ’tis of thee.”

Then there were more songs by Theentireschool and pieces by the scholars. Lizzie Fizzletree tried one all about flowers. “The Fringed Gentian,” it was called, and it was very pretty. But when Lizzie got through with it, Jehosophat didn’t think it was so beautiful. She recited it something like this: