Dear Miss Carrol, of the second grade, would be amazed to hear what small things I remember, all because I was so impressed at the time with her readiness and sweetness in taking notice of my difficulties.
Says Miss Carrol, looking straight at me:-- "If Johnnie has three marbles, and Charlie has twice as many, how many marbles has Charlie ?" I raise my hand for permission to speak.
"Teacher, I don't know vhat is tvice." Teacher beckons me to her, and whispers to me the meaning of the strange word, and I am able to write the sum correctly.

It's all in the day's work with her; with me, it is a special act of kindness and efficiency.
She whom I found in the next grade became so dear a friend that I can hardly name her with the rest, though I mention none of them lightly.
Her approval was always dear to me, first because she was "Teacher," and afterwards, as long as she lived, because she was my Miss Dillingham.

Great was my grief, therefore, when, shortly after my admission to her class, I incurred discipline, the first, and next to the last, time in my school career.
The class was repeating in chorus the Lord's Prayer, heads bowed on desks.

I was doing my best to keep up by the sound; my mind could not go beyond the word "hallowed," for which I had not found the meaning.
In the middle of the prayer a Jewish boy across the aisle trod on my foot to get my attention.

"You must not say that," he admonished in a solemn whisper; "it's Christian." I whispered back that it wasn't, and went on to the "Amen." I did not know but what he was right, but the name of Christ was not in the prayer, and I was bound to do everything that the class did.