But Phillips never doubted of his success.

“Theodolite,” said the Squire.

“T-h-e, the o-d, od, theod, o, theodo, l-y-t-e, theodolite,” spelled the champion.

“Next,” said the Squire, nearly losing his teeth In his excitement.  Ralph spelled the word slowly and correctly, and the conquered champion sat down In confusion.  The excitement was so great for some minutes that the spelling was suspended.  Everybody In the house had shown sympathy with one or the other of the combatants, except the silent shadow in the corner.  It had not moved during the contest, and did not show any interest now in the result.

“Gewhilliky crickets!  Thunder and lightning!  Licked him all to smash!” said Bud, rubbing his hands on his knees, “That beats my time all holler!”

And Betsey Short giggled until her tuck-comb fell out, though she was on the defeated side.

Shocky got up and danced with pleasure.

But one suffocating look from the aqueous eyes of Mirandy destroyed the last spark of Ralph’s pleasure in his triumph, and sent that awful below-zero feeling all through him.

“He’s powerful smart, is the master,” said old Jack to Mr. Pete Jones.  “He’ll beat the whole kit and tuck of ’em afore he’s through.  I know’d he was smart.  That’s the reason I tuck him,” proceeded Mr. Means.

“Yaas, but he don’t lick enough.  Not nigh,” answered Pete Jones.  “No lickin’, no larnin’, says I.”

It was now not so hard.  The other spellers on the opposite side went down quickly under the hard words which the Squire gave out.  The master had mowed down all but a few, his opponents had given up the battle, and all had lost their keen interest in a contest to which there could be but one conclusion, for there were only the poor spellers left.  But Ralph Hartsook ran against a stump where he was least expecting it.  It was the Squire’s custom, when one of the smaller scholars or poorer spellers rose to spell against the master, to give out eight or ten easy words, that they might have some breathing-spell before being slaughtered, and then to give a poser or two which soon settled them.  He let them run a little, as a cat does a doomed mouse.  There was now but one person left on the opposite side, and, as she rose in her blue calico dress, Ralph recognized Hannah, the bound girl at old Jack Means’s.  She had not attended school in the district, and had never spelled in spelling-school before, and was chosen last as an uncertain quantity.  The Squire began with easy words of two syllables, from that page of Webster, so well known to all who ever thumbed it, as “baker,” from the word that stands at the top of the page.  She spelled these words in an absent and uninterested manner.  As everybody knew that she would have to go down as soon as this preliminary skirmishing was over, everybody began to get ready to go home, and already there was the buzz of preparation.  Young men were timidly asking