So Patience started again—­“Eight times seven”—­She paused for a mighty mental effort—­she must get it right this time.  “Six”—­she began feebly.

“What!” said Squire Bean suddenly, in a deep voice which sounded like a growl.

Then all at once poor little Patience heard a whisper sweet as an angel’s in her ear:  “Fifty-six.”

“Eight times seven are fifty-six,” said she convulsively.

[Illustration:  “SIX”—­SHE BEGAN FEEBLY.]

“Right,” said the teacher with a relieved look.  The hands went down.  Patience stood with her neat little shoes toeing out on the crack.  It was over.  She had not failed before Squire Bean.  For a few minutes, she could think of nothing but that.

The rest of the class had their weak points, moreover their strong points, overlooked in the presence of the company.  The first thing Patience knew, ever so many had missed in the nine-table, and she had gone up to the head.

Standing there, all at once a terrible misgiving seized her.  “I wouldn’t have gone to the head if I hadn’t been told,” she thought to herself.  Martha was next below her; she knew that question in the nines, her hand had been up, so had John Allen’s and Phoebe Adams’.

This was the last class before recess.  Patience went soberly out in the yard with the other girls.  There was a little restraint over all the scholars.  They looked with awe at the Squire’s horse and chaise.  The horse was tied after a novel fashion, an invention of the Squire’s own.  He had driven a gimlet into the schoolhouse wall, and tied his horse to it with a stout rope.  Whenever the Squire drove he carried with him his gimlet, in case there should be no hitching-post.  Occasionally house-owners rebelled, but it made no difference; the next time the Squire had occasion to stop at their premises there was another gimlet-hole in the wall.  Few people could make their way good against Squire Bean’s.

There were a great many holes in the schoolhouse walls, for the Squire made frequent visits; he was one of the committee and considered himself very necessary for the well-being of the school.  Indeed if he had frankly spoken his mind, he would probably have admitted that in his estimation the school could not be properly kept one day without his assistance.

[Illustration:  “WHAT!” SAID SQUIRE BEAN SUDDENLY.]

Patience stood with her back against the school fence, and watched the others soberly.  The girls wanted her to play “Little Sally Waters sitting in the sun,” but she said no, she didn’t want to play.

Martha took hold of her arm and tried to pull her into the ring, but she held back.

“What is the matter?” said Martha.

“Nothing,” Patience said, but her face was full of trouble.  There was a little wrinkle between her reflective brown eyes, and she drew in her under lip after a way she had when disturbed.

When the bell rang, the scholars filed in with the greatest order and decorum.  Even the most frisky boys did no more than roll their eyes respectfully in the Squire’s direction as they passed him, and they tiptoed on their bare feet in the most cautious manner.