They had mental arithmetic, of course (Elizabeth Ann thought it just her luck!), and of course it was those hateful eights and sevens, and of course right away poor Betsy got the one she hated most, 7x8.  She never knew that one!  She said dispiritedly that it was 54, remembering vaguely that it was somewhere in the fifties.  Ralph burst out scornfully, “56!” and the teacher, as if she wanted to take him down for showing off, pounced on him with 9 x 8.  He answered, without drawing breath, 72.  Elizabeth Ann shuddered at his accuracy.  Ellen, too, rose to the occasion when she got 6 x 7, which Elizabeth Ann could sometimes remember and sometimes not.  And then, oh horrors!  It was her turn again!  Her turn had never before come more than twice during a mental arithmetic lesson.  She was so startled by the swiftness with which the question went around that she balked on 6 x 6, which she knew perfectly.  And before she could recover Ralph had answered and had rattled out a 108 in answer to 9 x 12; and then Ellen slapped down an 84 on top of 7 x 12.  Good gracious!  Who could have guessed, from the way they read, they could do their tables like this!  She herself missed on 7 x 7 and was ready to cry.  After this the teacher didn’t call on her at all, but showered questions down on the other two, who sent the answers back with sickening speed.

After the lesson the teacher said, smiling, “Well, Betsy, you were right about your arithmetic.  I guess you’d better recite with Eliza for a while.  She’s doing second-grade work.  I shouldn’t be surprised if, after a good review with her, you’d be able to go on with the third-grade work.”

Elizabeth Ann fell back on the bench with her mouth open.  She felt really dizzy.  What crazy things the teacher said!  She felt as though she was being pulled limb from limb.

“What’s the matter?” asked the teacher, seeing her bewildered fact.

“Why—­why,” said Elizabeth Ann, “I don’t know what I am at all.  If I’m second-grade arithmetic and seventh-grade reading and third-grade spelling, what grade am I?”

The teacher laughed at the turn of her phrase.  “You aren’t any grade at all, no matter where you are in school.  You’re just yourself, aren’t you?  What difference does it make what grade you’re in!  And what’s the use of your reading little baby things too easy for you just because you don’t know your multiplication table?”

“Well, for goodness’ sakes!” ejaculated Elizabeth Ann, feeling very much as though somebody had stood her suddenly on her head.

“Why, what’s the matter?” asked the teacher again.