"I want to tell you girls one thing," said Jennie Stone, solemnly. "If I get through these examinations without having so low a mark that Miss Brokaw sends me down into the primary grade, I promise to be good for—for—well, for the rest of my life—at Briarwood!"
"Of course," Helen said. "Heavy would limit that vow to something easy."
"Perhaps she had the same grave doubt about being able to be good that the little boy felt who was saying his prayers," Belle said. "He prayed: 'Dear God, please make me a good boy—and if You don't at first succeed, try, try again!'"
"But oh! some of the problems are so hard," sighed Lluella.
"'The Mournful Sisters' will now give their famous sketch," laughed Ruth, as announcer. "Come, now! altogether, girls!"
"'Knock, knock, knock! the girls are knocking——Bring the hammers all this way!'"
"Never mind, Ruthie Fielding," complained Lluella. "We don't all of us have the luck you do. All your English made up for you in that scenario——"
"And who is this made up, I'd be glad to have somebody tell me?" interposed Jennie. "Oh, girls! tell me. Do you all see the same thing I do?"
The crowd were strolling slowly down the Cedar Walk and the individual the plump girl had spied had just come into view, walking toward them. He was a tall, lean man, "as narrow as a happy thought," Jennie muttered, and dressed in a peculiar manner.
Few visitors came to Briarwood save parents or friends of the girls. This man did not even look like a pedler. At least, he carried no sample case, and he was not walking from the direction of Lumberton.