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First he gave out the primer words. “Foe, low, woe, roe, row, hero—” and he caught Mr. Barclay! Confused, Mr. Barclay spelled, “Hero; h-e, he, r-o-e, ro, hero,” and the roar of laughter surprised him. He joined in it as he went to a seat, the first one down.
The words grew longer. More and more spellers went down. First Gerald Fuller’s side was shorter, then Pa’s, then Gerald Fuller’s again. Everyone grew warm from laughter and excitement. Laura was in her element. She loved to spell. Her toes on a crack in the floor and her hands behind her, she spelled every word that came to her. Down went four from the enemy’s side, and three from Pa’s, then the word came to Laura. She took a deep breath and glibly spelled, “Differentiation: d-i-f, dif; f-e-r, fer, differ; e-n-t, different; i, differend; a-t-i-o-n, ashun; differentiation!”
Slowly almost all the seats filled with breathless, laughing folks who had been spelled down. Six remained in Gerald Fuller’s line, and only five in Pa’s— Pa and Ma and Florence Garland and Ben Woodworth and Laura.
“Repetitious,” said Mr. Clewett. Down went one from the other side, leaving the lines even. Ma’s gentle voice spelled, “Repetitious: r-e, re; p-e-t, pet, repet; i, repeti; t-i-o-u-s, shius, repetitious.”
“Mimosaceous,” said Mr. Clewett. Gerald Fuller spelled, “Mimosaceous; m-i-m, mim; o-s-a, mimosa; t-i—” He was watching Mr. Clewett. “No, s-i—,” he began again. “That’s got me beat,” he said, and sat down.
“Mimosaceous,” said Florence Garland. “M-i-m, mim; o-s-a, mimosa; t-e—” And she had been a schoolteacher!
The next one on Gerald Fuller’s side went down, then Ben shook his head and quit without trying. Laura stood straighter, waiting to spell the word. Now at the head of the other line, Mr. Foster began. “Mimosaceous: m-i, mi; m-o, mimo; s-a, sa, mimosa; c-e-o-u-s, sius, mimosaceous.”
A great burst of applause rose up, and some man shouted, “Good for you, Foster!” Mr. Foster had taken off his thick jacket and he stood in his checked shirt, smiling sheepishly. But there was a glint in his eye. No one had guessed that he was a brilliant speller.
Fast and hard the words came pelting then, the tricky words from the very back of the spelling book. On the other line, everyone went down but Mr. Foster. Ma went down. Only Pa and Laura were left, to down Mr. Foster.
Not one of them missed a word. In breathless silence, Pa spelled, Mr. Foster spelled, Laura spelled, then Mr. Foster again. He was one against two. It seemed that they could not beat him.
Then, “Xanthophyll,” said Mr. Clewett. It was Laura’s turn.
“Xanthophyll,” she said. To her surprise, she was suddenly confused. Her eyes shut. She could almost see the word on the
speller’s last page, but she could not think. It seemed that she stood a long time in a dreadful silence full of watching eyes.
“Xanthophyll,” she said again desperately, and she spelled quickly, “X-a-n, zan; t-h-o, tho, zantho; p-h—” Wildly she thought, “Grecophil,” and in a rush she ended, “-i-l—?” Mr. Clewett shook his head.
Trembling, Laura sat down. Now there was only Pa left.
Mr. Foster cleared his throat. “Xanthophyll,” he said. “X-a-n, zan; t-h-o, tho, zantho; p-h-y—” Laura could not breathe. No one breathed. “—l,” said Mr. Foster.
Mr. Clewett waited. Mr. Foster waited, too. It seemed that the waiting lasted forever. At last Mr. Foster said, “Well, then, I’m beat,” and he sat down. The crowd applauded him anyway, for what he had done. He had won respect that night.
“Xanthophyll,” said Pa. It seemed impossible now that anyone could spell that dreadful word, but Laura thought, Pa can, he must, he’s GOT to!
“X-a-n, zan,” said Pa; “t-h-o, tho, zantho; p-h-y—” he seemed slower, perhaps, than he was. “Double-l,” he said.
Mr. Clewett clapped the speller shut. There had never been such thundering applause as that applause for Pa. He had spelled down the whole town.
Then, still warm and all stirred up, everyone was getting into wraps.
“I don’t know when I’ve had such a good time!” Mrs. Bradley said to Ma.
“The best of it is, to think we’ll have another meeting next Friday,” said Mrs. Garland.
Still talking, the crowd was streaming out and lanterns went jogging toward Main Street.
“Well, do you feel some better, Laura?” Pa asked, and she answered, “Oh, yes! Oh, didn’t we have a good time!”
Chapter 19
The Whirl of Gaiety
Now there was always Friday evening to look forward to, and after the second Literary, there was such rivalry between the entertainers that there was news almost every day.
The second Literary was entirely charades, and Pa carried off the honors of the whole evening. Nobody could guess his charade.
He played it alone, in his everyday clothes. Walking up the central aisle, he carried two small potatoes before him on the blade of his ax. That was all.
