If I had any Jewish scruples, they were lagging away behind my interest in school affairs.

How American this was: two pupils side by side in the schoolroom, each holding to his own opinion, but both submitting to the common law; for the boy at least bowed his head as the teacher ordered.
But all Miss Dillingham knew of it was that two of her pupils whispered during morning prayer, and she must discipline them.

So I was degraded from the honor row to the lowest row, and it was many a day before I forgave that young missionary; it was not enough for my vengeance that he suffered punishment with me.

Teacher, of course, heard us both defend ourselves, but there was a time and a place for religious arguments, and she meant to help us remember that point.
I remember to this day what a struggle we had over the word "water," Miss Dillingham and I.It seemed as if I could not give the sound of _w_; I said "vater" every time.

Patiently my teacher worked with me, inventing mouth exercises for me, to get my stubborn lips to produce that _w_; and when at last I could say "village" and "water" in rapid alternation, without misplacing the two initials, that memorable word was sweet on my lips.