Peggy Parsons at Prep School

PEGGY PARSONS
AT PREP SCHOOL
ANNABEL SHARP
M. A. DONOHUE & COMPANY
CHICAGO — NEW YORK
Made in U. S. A.
PEGGY PARSONS AT PREP SCHOOL
Peggy Parsons wove her curly hair into a golden braid, and stretching her slim arms above her head yawned sleepily.
“Oh, you mustn’t do that,” sniggered her room-mate out of the semi-darkness of the one-candle-power illumination. “They don’t allow it here.”
“Don’t allow what?” said Peggy, beginning to prance before the mirror to admire the fluttering folds of her new blue silk kimono, which had been given her by a cousin the week before school opened, with the delightful label, “For Midnight Fudge Parties.”
“Don’t allow what?” she repeated curiously, bobbing up and down before her reflection, “can’t I even yawn if I want to?”
“No,” her room-mate unsympathetically insisted, “they teach us manners along with our French and mathematics, and yawning isn’t one,—a manner, I mean. Yawning is enough to keep you from getting high marks. This is a finishing school we’ve come to, please remember.”