Opal turned up at school next morning in one of her most defiant and reckless moods. She marched into the cloakroom with a jaunty "don't care" air, and immediately began to talk about the circus.
"I was caught neatly, wasn't I!" she proclaimed. "Never got such a surprise in my life as when you all came parading in like a flock of lambkins. Miss Pollard had rather spasms to judge from her face."
"You'll get spasms later on if I'm not mistaken," said Merle.
"Oh, I can always fix up the poor old dears. They've a blind eye where I'm concerned."
"How about that note you wrote?"
"Well, I had a headache, only it got better in time for the circus. I'm a wonderful person at getting well when I make up my mind to it. Will power I suppose. There's nothing neurotic about me!"
"You're the biggest fibber I know!"
"What are fibs?" asked Opal flippantly. "I only make a little picturesque variation sometimes instead of telling the brutal truth. It's what's called diplomacy, and finesse, and all the rest of it. In a matter of expediency I hedge the question."
"Use the plain Anglo-Saxon word 'lie' and I understand you," retorted Merle, turning disgustedly away.
Opal laughed, and some of the younger children, who had been standing like little pitchers listening with all their ears, laughed too.