Well, I just took his
letter and wrote in all the words, spelled right, above the wrong
ones, in red ink, just as Mr. Perkins makes us do with our
dictation exercises, and sent it back to him. I thought maybe
he'd feel insulted and stop writing to me."
"And did he?"
"No, he didn't. It is my opinion you can't insult Cyrus Brisk.
He is too thick-skinned. He wrote another letter, and thanked me
for correcting his mistakes, and said it made him feel glad
because it showed I was beginning to take an interest in him when
I wanted him to spell better. Did you ever? Miss Marwood says it
is wrong to hate anyone, but I don't care, I hate Cyrus Brisk."
"Mrs. Cyrus Brisk WOULD be an awful name," giggled Felicity.
"Flossie Brisk says Cyrus is ruining all the trees on his father's
place cutting your name on them," said Sara Ray. "His father told
him he would whip him if he didn't stop, but Cyrus keeps right on.
He told Flossie it relieved his feelings. Flossie says he cut
yours and his together on the birch tree in front of the parlour
window, and a row of hearts around them."
"Just where every visitor can see them, I suppose," lamented
Cecily. "He just worries my life out. And what I mind most of
all is, he sits and looks at me in school with such melancholy,
reproachful eyes when he ought to be working sums.
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