"I'll do my best," she answered brightly. "I picked up a few words from the other girls last night that I didn't know before. There was 'ripping' for one, and—what was the other, now, that caught on to me? Oh, I know!—'rotten'. I won't forget it again."
Miss Poppleton's face was a study.
"Of course I don't mean slang words like those. The girls had no business to be using them. You must copy the best, and not the worst."
"I guess it will take me a while to learn the difference."
"You'll have to expunge 'guess' and 'reckon' from your vocabulary."
Gipsy heaved an eloquent sigh.
"I'll make a mental note of what I've got to avoid, but I expect they'll slip out sometimes. But about that pan, please! Might the janitor go out and buy it for me? I can't make any Fudge till I get it, and I reck—that is to say, I mean to teach those girls to make Fudge. They've not tasted it."
Miss Poppleton glared at her irrepressible pupil with a glance that would have quelled Hetty Hancock or Lennie Chapman, but Gipsy did not flinch.
"They've actually never tasted Fudge!" she repeated, with a smile of pity for their ignorance.
But Miss Poppleton's patience was at an end.