CHAPTER XV
A HARVARD TEA
Stillness reigned in the study hall: stillness save for the occasional rattle of a book, or the falling of a pen or pencil from careless fingers. The large clock at the back of the room ticked regularly, and its hands pointed to a quarter past one.
At the desk Fraulein Herrmann sat, her watchful eyes roaming over the assemblage in search of idleness or disorder. Only a moment before her stentorian tones had rung forth, much to the annoyance of two girls who came under her supervision.
"Emma-line and Jassa-mine Brown may report at the desk at the end of the period."
Emmalyn and Jassamine Brown, twins, were as much the bane of Fraulein's life as were Mary Boyd and Peggy Austin. Fraulein was not stupid. She had learned that to call forth these names, distorting them with almost unrecognizable inflection, brought its own punishment.
Emmalyn slammed down a book on her desk, her face flushed with mortification. She whispered something to her sister.
"You may say what you have to say to the room, Miss Emma-line," Fraulein invited.
Emmalyn paid not the slightest heed.
"Miss Brown! Answer when I speak! Why do you not answer?"