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Updated: June 28, 2025
After breakfast they returned to the fourth division schoolroom, where they were to be instructed in arithmetic for an hour by Mr. Whitehead. Mr. Whitehead called for the sums. He glanced through Smith's and found them correct, and then through Hart Minor's. His attention was arrested by the last division. "What's this?" he demanded. "Four's into thirty-eight don't go six times.
There are innumerable rhymes as to the signification of numbers where magpies are concerned, but the most complete I have heard runs thus: "One's joy, two's grief, Three's marriage, four's death, Five's heaven, six is hell, Seven's the devil his own sel'."
"You know very well that I've never put my hair up in curl papers since the time Peter was dying of the measles," said Cecily reproachfully. "I resolved then I wouldn't because I wasn't sure it was quite right." "I will keep my finger-nails neat and clean," I wrote. "There, that's four resolutions. I'm not going to make any more. Four's enough."
The Rector paused to listen. Leaning on the wall of the little play-yard, he tried to make out the words that, like a religious chant, were being intoned within. It sounded like, "Twice two's four, twice four's six, twice six's eight," and he passed on, thinking, 'A fine thing; but if we don't take care we shall go too far; we shall unfit them for their stations, and he frowned.
There was a hidden romance gnawing at the Big Four's heart, and Phoebe Snow had a picture of James K. Hackett on her desk and wanted to start a poultry farm. The Santa Fé had been married once, but had taken her maiden name, it was so much pleasanter in business.
Old Volodia with the frame in one hand, Daria on a low stool, her curly golden head bent forward over the balls, as she moved them up and down, with a pucker on her forehead. "Two and one's five, and three's seven, and four's twelve, and six's " "Oh, Daria Andreïevna! You're not thinking about what you're doing!"
'Well, two fours twice four's eight, eh? and his two hind ones make ten. 'Hoots, growled George, amidst the mirth of his comrades, 'you're makin' a fool o' one. 'Turn them out a bagman? suggested Mr. Sponge, in an undertone; adding, 'Watchorn has a three-legged 'un, I know, in the hay-loft. 'New Year's Day, too most likely away, seeing his young hounds at walk.
Bobbie remembered learning the verses to say to Father 'for a surprise. She wondered if Mother had remembered, too. The four-year-old verse had been: Daddy dear, I'm only four And I'd rather not be more. Four's the nicest age to be, Two and two and one and three. What I love is two and two, Mother, Peter, Phil, and you. What you love is one and three, Mother, Peter, Phil, and me.
But I don't think it ought to be you, Nicky; or John, either." "I suppose," said Michael, "you mean it ought to be me." "I don't mean anything of the sort. One out of four's enough." "One out of four? Well then " "That only leaves me to fight," said Dorothy. "I wasn't thinking of you, Michael. Or of Dorothy."
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