But why say "Dooglas"?
"S-o-u-p spells soup," answered Ira loftily to my question. "Then
D-o-u-g must spell doog."
"I tell you it's Douglas. 'The hand of Douglas is his own,'" I cried.
At the mention of the doughty Scot I pounded the floor with my crutch and
repeated "Dug--dug--dug."
"But Teacher Thomas allus said Doog," exclaimed Chester Holmes.
"I don't care what Teacher Thomas said," I retorted. "You must say
Dug--Dug--Douglas."
"But Teacher Thomas is the best speaker they is," piped in Lulu Ann
Nummler from the end of the bench.
"I don't care if Teacher Thomas can recite better than Demosthenes
himself," I snapped. "In this school we say Douglas." My crutch
emphasized this mandate, but I could not see how it was received, for
every scholar's face was hidden from me by a book.
"Now, Abraham, six lines."
Abraham Lincoln Spiker was two years younger than Ira Snarkle, but he
seemed much taller and correspondingly thinner. In our valley the boys
have a fashion of being born long, and getting shorter and fatter as they
grow older.
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