"Cat?" suggested Rollo, a trifle uncertainly.

"Cat?" snapped his father, with a sarcastic inflection, "b-a-n, cat!
Where were you raised? Ban! B-a-n--Ban! Say it! Say it, or I'll get at
you with a skate-strap!"

"B-a-m, band," said Rollo, who was beginning to wish that he had a
rain-check and could come back and see the remaining innings some other
day.

"Ba-a-a-an!" shouted his father, "B-a-n, Ban, Ban, Ban! Now say Ban!"

"Ban," said Rollo, with a little gasp.

"That's right," his father said, in an encouraging tone; "you will learn
to read one of these years if you give your mind to it. All he needs,
you see, Mary, is a teacher who doesn't lose patience with him the first
time he makes a mistake. Now, Rollo, how do you spell, B-a-n--Ban?"

Rollo started out timidly on c-a--then changed to d-o,--and finally
compromised on h-e-n.

Mr. Holiday made a pass at him with Volume I, but Rollo saw it coming
and got out of the way.

"B-a-n!" his father shouted, "B-a-n, Ban! Ban! Ban! Ban! Ban! Now go on,
if you think you know how to spell that! What comes next? Oh, you're
enough to tire the patience of Job! I've a good mind to make you learn
by the Pollard system, and begin where you leave off! Go ahead, why
don't you? Whatta you waiting for? Read on! What comes next? Why, croft,