“Dis club is O.K.”
“You doan fergit the story?”
“Not if you’ll all try to remember the ‘two-times’ table,” Eleanor promised, shaking hands gravely all around.
“She’s de peach fer sure. Gotta all dem oder teachers beat,” announced Pietro on the steps.
“Don’t you call her no peach. She’s a lovely lady,” corrected Rafael, aiming a deft blow with his left hand.
“Ain’t a lada a peach?” challenged Pietro, dancing out of reach.
“All right for Italian girl, not good enough for lika her,” Rafael answered fiercely.
“Wonder if she bring more dem peanuts next week,” speculated Nicolo.
“She ain’t no millionaire, maybe.” Rafael turned upon him scowling. “But doan you dare fergit the two-times, ’cause den she’ll fergit Robin. I killa de kid dat fergits.”
Rafael was evidently the Ten’s leader. They received his dire threat in awed silence, and tramped off, chanting the two-times table with a vigor that reached Eleanor, reporting her evening’s experiences to Mr. Thayer, and clinched her wavering determination into a promise to stay for at least a month in Harding.