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Updated: April 30, 2025
Patience's cheeks were red as poppies, her eyes were full of tears. "You may try once more, Patience," said the teacher, who was distressed herself. She feared lest Squire Bean might think that it was her fault, and that she was not a competent teacher, because Patience Mather did not know eight-times-seven.
Patience Mather was saying the seven-multiplication table, when she heard a heavy step in the entry. "That is Squire Bean," whispered her friend, Martha Joy, who stood at her elbow. Patience stopped short in horror. Her especial bugbear in mathematics was eight-times-seven; she was coming toward it fast could she remember it, with old Squire Bean looking at her?
I thought I should have to sleep in a bath-tub. I escaped from the bath-room only to land in the linen-closet. That was rather interesting. Then when I had calculated all your sheets and pillow-cases, I got out of that to what I recognized as my own room. No! it was the broom-closet eight-times-seven! That was the only familiar thing I saw. I could have hugged those brooms.
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