“Good girl, good girl, to learn a lesson so quickly. Now, let me see; I’ll buy some of these college traps. I have a grandson in Princeton, and he’ll be glad to have them for his room. There, I’ll take that, and that, and that. Now, if you’ll make me out my orange bill, I’ll pay you.”
On a square of orange-colored paper, Marjorie wrote neatly the articles he had bought, and their prices. She added it correctly, and presented it with a business-like air.
“Well done, well done, little orange girl. And so I owe you nine sixty-five. Quite a big orange bill. But I’ll make it ten dollars, if you can tell me of the greatest Orange Bill ever known.”
Marjorie thought hard. She had been afraid this quizzical old gentleman would ask her some question that she couldn’t answer. She thought of great shiploads of oranges coming up from the South, but she knew nothing about the price of them.
“No, sir,” she said, finally, with a little sigh; “I don’t believe I can tell you.”
“Well, well, I’ll give you the ten, all the same, for the good of the cause. And the Bill I have in mind was William of Orange.”
“Oh!” said Marjorie, laughing; “well, even if I had thought of him, I couldn’t tell you much about him. But I’ll know more of him next week!”
“How’s that? Does he come next in your history lesson?”
“No, sir; but in my school, we can have any lesson we want. If I ask Miss Hart to make a lesson on William of Orange, she will.”
“Bless my soul! That’s a fine school! And can all the pupils order subjects that please their fancy?”