“Anything particular you want to know?” Angela inquired. “Perhaps I can help you out a bit.”
“No, there’s no use; you’d have to begin from the very beginning,” replied Polly, looking disconsolately out of the window at the glorious spring day.
Betty ruffled her hair and frowned.
“Something ought to be done to rile the Spartan,” she said. “What shall it be?”
“She knows most of us will flunk,” remarked Lois. “I suppose she’ll be beastly sarcastic.”
Angela, who had been curled up on the window seat and had apparently been paying no attention to the conversation, suddenly remarked:
“Give me a pencil, some one. I’ve an idea; it’s not very clever, but it may annoy the Spartan.”
“What is it?” they all demanded.
But Angela refused to tell. She got up, stretched lazily, and without a word to any one, left the room. In a few minutes she was back, wearing a thoroughly satisfied smile.
“Please tell us where you’ve been,” teased Betty. “I’m bursting with curiosity.”