girls if “they could see them safe home,” which was the approved formula, and were trembling in mortal fear of “the mitten.”  Presently the Squire, thinking it time to close the contest, pulled his scalp forward, adjusted his glass eye, which had been examining his nose long enough, and turned over the leaves of the book to the great words at the place known to spellers as “incomprehensibility,” and began to give out those “words of eight syllables with the accent on the sixth.”  Listless scholars now turned round, and ceased to whisper, in order to be in at the master’s final triumph.  But to their surprise “ole Miss Meanses’ white nigger,” as some of them called her in allusion to her slavish life, spelled these great words with as perfect ease as the master.  Still not doubting the result, the Squire turned from place to place and selected all the hard words he could find.  The school became utterly quiet, the excitement was too great for the ordinary buzz.  Would “Meanses’ Hanner” beat the master? beat the master that had laid out Jim Phillips?  Everybody’s sympathy was now turned to Hannah.  Ralph noticed that even Shocky had deserted him, and that his face grew brilliant every time Hannah spelled a word.  In fact, Ralph deserted himself.  As he saw the fine, timid face of the girl so long oppressed flush and shine with interest; as he looked at the rather low but broad and intelligent brow and the fresh, white complexion and saw the rich, womanly nature coming to the surface under the influence of applause and sympathy—­he did not want to beat.  If he had not felt that a victory given would insult her, he would have missed intentionally.  The bulldog, the stern, relentless setting of the will, had gone, he knew not whither.  And there had come in its place, as he looked in that face, a something which he did not understand.  You did not, gentle reader, the first time it came to you.

The Squire was puzzled.  He had given out all the hard words in the book.  He again pulled the top of his head forward.  Then he wiped his spectacles and put them on.  Then out of the depths of his pocket he fished up a list of words just coming into use in those days—­words not in the spelling-book.  He regarded the paper attentively with his blue right eye.  His black left eye meanwhile fixed itself in such a stare on Mirandy Means that she shuddered and hid her eyes in her red silk handkerchief.

“Daguerreotype,” sniffed the Squire.  It was Ralph’s turn.

“D-a-u, dau—­”

“Next.”

And Hannah spelled it right.

Such a buzz followed that Betsey Short’s giggle could not be heard, but
Shocky shouted:  “Hanner beat! my Hanner spelled down the master!” And
Ralph went over and congratulated her.

And Dr. Small sat perfectly still in the corner.

And then the Squire called them to order, and said:  “As our friend Hanner Thomson is the only one left on her side, she will have to spell against nearly all on t’other side.  I shall therefore take the liberty of procrastinating the completion of this interesting and exacting contest until to-morrow evening.  I hope our friend Hanner may again carry off the cypress crown of glory.  There is nothing better for us than healthful and kindly simulation.”