"Horrors!" thought Jeanne.
"Miss Turner tutored Ethel Bailey all last summer," continued Mrs. Huntington. "Mrs. Bailey says that Ethel now receives excellent marks."
"From Miss Turner," said Jeanne, shrewdly. "Ethel doesn't know a thing about her lessons. She's the stupidest girl in our grade. I know mine, but it's hard to recite. If I must have a tutor, couldn't I have Miss Wardell?—I liked her and she'd be glad of the extra money because she takes care of her mother. Oh, please let me have Miss Wardell."
"No," returned Mrs. Huntington, firmly, "Miss Turner will know best what is needed for your grade. You are learning nothing. Only forty in history."
"Well," sighed Jeanne, "I'm not surprised. I said that Benedict Arnold wrote 'The Star-Spangled Banner' and that Lafayette painted Gilbert Stuart's portrait of Washington. I knew better, but oh, dear! When Miss Turner looks me in the eye and asks a question, my poor frightened tongue always says the wrong thing."
"She'd freeze a lamp-post," said Harold, for once agreeing with his cousin. "I had her last year. Don't look at her eyes—look at her belt-buckle when you recite."
"I have to look at her eyes," sighed Jeanne, miserably. "One is yellow, the other is black. I hate to look at them, but I always have to."
"I know," agreed Harold. "I had ten months of those eyes myself. I hope you'll never meet a snake. You'd be so fascinated that you couldn't run."
"Miss Turner's eyes have nothing to do with the question," said Mrs. Huntington. "Mrs. Bailey said she made an excellent tutor, so I shall certainly engage her."
"Perhaps," suggested Harold, consolingly, when his mother had left the room, "she won't be able to come. She may want a vacation."