A Dixie School Girl Part 11

"I _hope_," and Miss Baylis' suspicious eyes were upon her charges. Then she vanished. Naturally someone else t.i.ttered.

Barely five minutes pa.s.sed and when she returned her first words were:

"I hope--" then she paused for a smile appeared upon every face bringing the abstracted lady back to earth. It was Beverly who asked innocently: "Excuse me, Miss Baylis, but did you tell us to begin our literature papers at the ninety-fifth line of Pope's Essay on Man: 'Hope springs eternal'?"

"We ended our literature recitation ten minutes ago, Beverly. If you were so inattentive as to miss what I said that is your misfortune," was the austere retort. Nevertheless, the shot had told.

Ten more minutes of the period slipped by, nay, crawled by, in which Miss Baylis darting from one victim to another bent upon reaching their vulnerable points. Then it came, Electra Sanderson's turn to recite.

Now Electra Sanderson was distinctly of the nouveau riche. She came from an eastern city where money is the G.o.d of things. Why her father, a kindly soul who had risen from hod carrier to contractor, happened to choose Leslie Manor for his youngest daughter must remain one of the unanswered questions. Perhaps "mommer" made the selection on account of the name which had appealed to her. Manors or manners were all one to her. At any rate, Electra (christened Ellen) was a pupil at Miss Woodhull's very select school. A big, good-natured, warm-hearted, generous, dull _slouchy_ girl of seventeen, who never could and never would "change her spots," but was inevitably destined to marry someone of her own cla.s.s, rear a flourishing family and settle down into a commonplace, good-natured matron, Leslie Manor nevertheless, and notwithstanding. Miss Woodhull and her staff might polish until exhausted. The only result would be the removal of the plating and the exposure of the alloy beneath.

Electra didn't care a whoop for the old fogies who had lived and ruled in England generations before she was born. Indeed, she would not have wept had England and all the histories ever written about her disappeared beneath the sea which surrounded that country. What she wanted now was to get out of that cla.s.sroom and into the dining room visible from the window near which she was sitting, and through which she gazed longingly, for there could be found something tangible. Her thoughts had been in the dining room for the past five minutes, consequently she was not aware that Sally had surrept.i.tiously reached toward her from the seat behind, laid hold of about eighteen inches of the lacing of her Peter Thomson (dangling as usual) and while Petty g.a.y.l.o.r.d, sitting next Sally, was secretly reading a letter concealed behind her book, had made fast Electra's Peter Thomson lacing to Petty's boot lacing, _likewise_ adrift, and then soberly awaited developments.

Sally could manage to do more things un.o.bserved than any other girl in the school, though she had found a fair rival in Beverly.

Thus lay the train "of things as they ought (not) to be" when Miss Baylis fired her first shot at poor Electra.

"Electra suppose you return to _this_ world of facts,--you seem to be in dreamland at present--and tell me who brought a rather unpleasant notoriety upon himself at this period."

Electra returned to England and English affairs at a bound. But to which period was Miss Baylis referring? Electra had not the ghost of an idea but would make a stab at it any way.

"Why-er-oh, it was-er-the man who made extensive use of bricks in the House of Commons," she ventured at random.

"What?" demanded Miss Baylis, utterly bewildered.

"Yes, ma'am. I mean yes, Miss Baylis. I can't remember his name but he did. I learned that by heart last night at study period," staunchly a.s.serted Electra, sure for once in her life of her point, for hadn't she _read_ those very words?

"Of 'bricks'?" repeated Miss Baylis.

"Yes m--, Miss Baylis."

Miss Baylis' eyes snapped as much as any pair of colorless blue eyes set too close together can snap. One of the many hopeless tasks which she had undertaken with Electra had been to banish from her vocabulary that impossible "ma'am", yet like Banquo's ghost it refused to be laid.

"Open your book at that page and read the sentence," commanded the history teacher.

Electra obediently did as bidden and read glibly.

"'He made extensive use of----'" and just there came to an embarra.s.sed halt as a t.i.tter went around the schoolroom.

"Silence!" Miss Baylis' tone of voice did not encourage levity. "Well?"

she interrogated crisply.

"It's _bribes_, Miss Baylis," said poor Electra, covered with confusion and blushes.

"Exactly. The greatest simpleton would understand that. Are you more familiar with bricks than bribes?" It was a cruel thrust under the circ.u.mstances, and Miss Baylis had the grace to blush at the look of scorn which darted from Beverly's eyes straight into her own and the curl which Aileen's lips held. But even a worm may turn, and for once Miss Baylis was taken off her feet by having Electra reply: "I guess it's more honest to be."

"Good!" came from someone, but Miss Baylis thought it wiser to ignore it.

"You may stand and read that sentence five times. Perhaps it may percolate after so doing."

Electra, still smarting under the sting of Miss Baylis' sarcasm rose hastily, and with her as hastily rose Petty's foot to a horizontal position, encountering in its ascent the rung of Electra's chair and toppling it over with a crash.

CHAPTER XIII

CULINARY EXPERIMENTS

Most of the girls gave vent to startled exclamations, but Miss Baylis was speechless with rage. Electra turned and twisted in her frantic endeavors to discover the origin of the upheaval, and Petty made a mad scramble for her history book which the sudden jerk had sent flying out of her hands, the sentimental missive fluttering from its hiding place to drop at Beverly's feet. Stooping hastily, Beverly caught it up unnoticed in the greater confusion, though she could not help seeing "Darling little sweetheart," in a large immature hand at the heading. With a scarcely repressed laugh she hid it in her book, and turned to face the storm center, Miss Baylis.

"Who is responsible for this folly?" demanded the irate one.

There was no reply.

"I wish an answer," reiterated Miss Baylis, turning to Beverly who sat near Petty. "Is this your idea of a joke?"

"Not exactly, Miss Baylis."

"Are you guilty of this act?"

"No, Miss Baylis."

"Do you know who is?"

"I could not tell if I did, Miss Baylis."

"I shall force you to tell," was the unguarded retort.

"It is rather hard to force an Ashby or a Seldon to do something they consider dishonorable, Miss Baylis," was the quiet reply.

"You are insolent."

"I did not intend to be."

Of this Miss Baylis was quite well aware. She had begun to understand something of Beverly's character and to learn something of the importance of this Woodbine family and their standing in the community. Consequently she turned her attention to Sally and asked:

"Is your sense of honor equally nice? Which of your cla.s.smates played this senseless trick?"

Sally remained silent.

"Did you hear my question?"

"I did, Miss Baylis."

"Then why do you not answer me. If you are aware which girl did this silly thing why do you keep silent when you know I am sure to discover sooner or later?"

"Perhaps for the same reason Beverly has," answered Sally. "But why don't you ask me if _I_ did it Miss Baylis? I've often done far worse, haven't I?"