Mr. Abernathy took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He did this whenever he became frustrated, which happened a lot with Edward.

"Again"

Edward swallowed, took a deep breath, and recited:

"A P-party of Peafowl, A Gag…a gag…a gag-"
"A Gaggle of Geese, Edward" said Mr. Abernathy, rubbing his eyes again. "A Party of Peafowl, a Gaggle of Geese. Again."
"Y-yes Sir" said Edward, looking down at his lap. He was sweating, which he did whenever he was nervous (and he was always nervous) which made his spectacles slide down his long nose. He pushed them up and began: "A Party of P-peafowl…a Party of…A par-"

"Enough." said Mr. Abernathy, pressing a button on the Voxphone. The recording disc clicked and stopped spinning. "That will be all for today, Edward."
"Yes, Sir" Edward said, brushing the hair out of his eyes, "Th-thank you, Sir" He stood up too quickly and tripped over his chair, stumbling into Mr. Abernathy, who dropped the Voxphone, which promptly smashed into several dozen pieces. Edward immediately fell to his knees and began scooping up the remains, "Oh my goodness I'm so sorry Sir please-"
"E-NOUGH" Mr. Abernathy shrieked, storming from the study, leaving Edward with the ruins of the Voxphone. His shouts echoed through the house, "Hopeless. Utterly HOPELESS."

Edward scrambled to his feet and flew after him, knocking over a lamp in the process. "Please Sir I didn't mean it Sir!" The commotion had caught his mother's attention. She swept into the entrance hall just as Mr. Abernathy was shoving an arm into his coat.
"What on earth-?" she began.
"Mrs. Crowley" he fumed, "I have done all I can do. I have tried time and time again to cure your son of his vocal affliction. It has been over a month, and the boy can't even master simple recitation. I am afraid my services will not be sufficient."
Edward stood in the shadow of the hall, his eyes turned down to the floor. His mother looked at him, then back at Mr. Abernathy. "I…I don't understand, you said you could help-" she reached for her purse, "Please, I can pay you-"
"Mrs. Crowley, to put it simply: Your son stammers like a negro, and there is naught I can do for him. My firm suggestion is that he simply keep his mouth shut, and spare this good city his stupidity." He took his bowler off the hook and shoved it on his head. "Good day." Mr. Abernathy slammed the door behind him, leaving Edward and his mother alone. He said nothing. She didn't even look at him.
"Twenty-three" she said through pursed lips. "Twenty-three years old and you stammer like a child. What girl in her right mind would even think of courting such a pathetic excuse for a man? I thank God in Heaven that your father isn't here to see what a disappointment you've become, Lord rest him."
"I'm s-sorry, mother…"

"You're always sorry," she said, opening the front door. "Go. I don't want you in this house until supper. Go outside and at least try to make some friends."
"Yes, mother." He said, stepping miserably into the sunlight.
"Friends," she said, closing the door behind him, "The only way you'll make any friends is if they fall out of the sky"