By the middle of the second week, the unaccustomed drill and routine had become monotonous.
Blue Bonnet came home from school one afternoon, flushed and impatient. “It seems to me,” she said, standing by one of the sitting-room windows and restlessly twisting the curtain cord back and forth, “that school’s a fearfully over-rated place.”
“What has gone wrong, Elizabeth?” her grandmother asked.
“Nothing very much, Grandmother; but I do think that tutors are a long sight—”
“Are what, Elizabeth?” Miss Clyde interposed.
“A great deal more accommodating than women teachers. I’m not sure that I shall like going to school.”
“It might be wiser to give it a longer trial before deciding, dear,” Mrs. Clyde suggested quietly.
“Anyhow, the ‘rankin’ officer’ isn’t—”
“Who, Elizabeth?”
“That’s what Kitty calls Miss Rankin, Aunt Lucinda. She isn’t very considerate—Miss Rankin, I mean. You wouldn’t like it, if she made you lose your recess, just because you changed your seat.”