"Go on," said the teacher severely. She was quite young, and also
stood in some awe of Squire Bean, but she did not wish her pupils to
discover it, so she pretended to ignore that step in the entry. Squire
Bean walked with a heavy gilt-headed cane which always went clump,
clump, at every step; beside he shuffled--one could always tell who
was coming.

"Seven times seven," begun Patience trembling--then the door
opened--there stood Squire Bean.

The teacher rose promptly. She tried to be very easy and natural, but
her pretty round cheeks turned red and white by turns.

"Good-morning, Squire Bean," said she. Then she placed a chair on the
platform for him.

"_Good_-morning," said he, and seated himself in a lumbering way--he
was rather stiff with rheumatism. He was a large old man in a green
camlet cloak with brass buttons.

"You may go on with the exercises," said he to the teacher, after he
had adjusted himself and wiped his face solemnly with a great red
handkerchief.

"Go on, Patience," said the teacher.

So Patience piped up in her little weak soprano: "Seven times seven
are forty-nine. Eight times seven are"--She stopped short. Then she
begun over again--"Eight times seven"--