"I dare say she will. I wish we needn't have exams., or marks, or any horrid things, to show whether we've done well or badly."
"I can get on tolerably with facts," said Lettice, "but I'm always marked 'weak' for composition. Miss Farrar says I use tautology and repeat myself, and that my grammar is shaky and my general style poor. She told me to take Macaulay as a model, but I can no more copy other people's ways of writing than I could improve my features by staring at the Venus de Medici."
"Poor old Salad! You're not cut out for an authoress."
"I'm certainly not; I'd rather be a charwoman! I don't aspire to be editress of the school magazine, I assure you, nor even a contributor. By the way, Honor, why don't you send something? I'm sure you could."
"I did think of it," replied Honor. "I was going to make a nice little series of acrostics on all of your names. I did one about Chatty, and showed it to Janie; but she said that it was far too slangy, and Vivian would never pass it, so I tore it up, and felt too squashed to go on."
"Oh! what was it?" exclaimed the girls. "Can't you remember it?"
"I'll try. I believe it went this way:
"C hatty Burns is just a ripper!
H air's the colour of a kipper;
A nd her face so round and red is