Jerry, who on the other's entrance had descended swiftly from the platform, repeated the question.
"Who wrote this?" he asked authoritatively. "Can't you 'ear Mr. Brand?"
"Albert, I reck'n," answered Stanley, taking his cue from his pal.
The door opened, and a girl stood on the threshold.
"Who said Albert?" she asked.
The lads turned.
The young lady wore a long drab coat and had a fair pig-tail. She was like Boy Woodburn and yet unlike her: the figure much the same, the colouring identical. But if it was Boy, the years had coarsened her and altered the expression in her eyes not for the better.
With swift, decisive steps she made for the platform amid the suppressed giggles of the lads.
Jerry made way for her at once.
The girl proceeded to rub out with the duster all the questions but the first. Then she turned over the leaves of a Bible, wetting her thumb for that purpose, seized the pointer, and took her stand by the blackboard.