"Me!" He was evidently surprised that she should think so. "Why, no. I don't know him. I just saw him a few times. He is a sort of a dried-up little party. You know I get up to the court-house once in a while to have a brand registered or something like that."
"He is rather important—for his size," mused Janet. "And very particular about his looks."
"They have a man teacher at a school near my house," remarked Steve, in no seeming connection.
"I suppose he has a first-class certificate," said Janet. "Until lately it was easy to get a school in Texas. But the country school boards rate you by your certificate more and more. This time I am going to get first-class, or at least second. If I don't I 'll have to go back North."
"What kind of questions does that fellow ask when he examines people?" Steve inquired.
"Well—for instance—'Give the source and course of the Orizaba.'"
"Huh!" remarked Steve.
"To tell the truth," said Janet, "I would n't have got even third-class if it had n't been for the way I pulled through in geography."
"Are you good in geography?"
"Hardly. I just passed. He asked a great many questions about climate, and every time he asked that I wrote that it was salubrious. You see," she explained, with a sly little air, "in the children's geographies the climate of a country is nearly always salubrious. So I took a chance on every country. That brought my average up."