For
he, being gifted with a gentle sense of humor, together with a patient
love of the origin of things, was questing in his quiet mind what had
led a boy to render a well-known line as follows: "Such a quantity of
salt there was, to season the Roman nation." Presently he hit upon the
clue to this great mystery. "Mola, the salted cake," he said; "and the
next a little error of conjugation. You have looked out your words,
Smith, but chanced upon the wrong ones."
"Oh, Captain Scuddy," cried the head boy, grinning wisely, though he
might have made just the same blunder himself; "after that, do tell
us one of your sea-stories. It will strike five in about five minutes.
Something about Nelson, and killing ten great Frenchmen."
"Oh, do," cried the other little fellows, crowding round him. "It is
ever so much better than Virgil, Captain Scuddy!"
"I am not Captain Scuddy, as I tell you every day. I'm afraid I am a
great deal too good-natured with you. I shall have to send a dozen of
you up to be caned."
"No, you couldn't do that if you tried, Captain Scuddy. But what are you
thinking of, all this time? There are two pretty ladies in riding-habits
peeping at you from the bell porch. Why, you have got sweethearts,
Captain Scuddy! What a shame of you never to have told us!"
The youngest and fairest of all the boys there could scarcely have
blushed more deeply than their classical tutor did, as he stooped for
his hat, and shyly went between the old desks to the door in the porch.
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