"Why, I never thought of it that way," frowned Genevieve. "I didn't suppose teachers ever had—er—feelings like that."
"Well, I suppose teachers are—folks, like the rest of us," hazarded the youth, as he stopped a minute at the foot of the Kennedys' front walk.
Genevieve shook her head mischievously.
"I don't," she protested. "They always seem to me like things you buy for school, just like you do the books and chalk, and that they come in boxes all graded and sorted—primary, grammar, high school, French, German, and all that," she flashed over her shoulder, as she skipped up the walk toward the house.
"There!" sighed Genevieve, bounding up on to the veranda, and dropping her books into a chair. "I'm going for a ride with Tilly, Aunt Julia, please, if you don't mind."
"Very well, dear; but don't stay too long. There's your practicing, you know."
Genevieve scowled, and made an impatient gesture—neither of which Mrs. Kennedy seemed to notice.
"You have your watch, I see," she went on serenely; "so I don't think you'll forget."
Genevieve bit her lip. She threw a hurried glance into Mrs. Kennedy's face; but that, too, Mrs. Kennedy did not appear to notice.
"No, Aunt Julia," said Genevieve, a little constrainedly, as she went to saddle her horse, "I sha'n't—forget."