"You still think they come all boxed, sorted, and labeled, do you?" he said. "And that they aren't 'just folks' at all?"
"Yes, I still think so. They never seem a bit like 'folks' to me. It's their business to sit up there stiff and solemn and stern, and see that you behave and learn your lessons. I never saw one that I liked, except Miss Palmer and Miss Jones—but then, they came out of a jolly box, anyhow."
"Lucky ladies!"
Genevieve laughed rebelliously.
"Oh, I know I'm horrid," she admitted; "but—well, I went off for a ride with Tilly yesterday after school, instead of paying attention to his Imperial Highness, Cæsar; and that's what was the trouble. But, Harold, it was so perfectly glorious out I had to—I just had to! I tell you, every bit of me was tingling to go! Now what do you suppose Miss Hart knows of a feeling like that? She simply couldn't understand it."
"But—Miss Hart doesn't look very old—to me."
Genevieve stopped short, and turned half around.
"Old! Why, she's a teacher, Harold!"
Harold chuckled, as they started forward again.
"I should like to see some teachers' faces if they could hear you say 'teacher' in that tone of voice, young lady!"