Sarah gasped. That would bring her into constant association with Ethel and Gertrude, the objects of her devotion.
"I—I am afraid I am too—too dumb, ach, stupid, I mean."
The teacher laughed. All Sarah's teachers laughed at her more or less. It was only yesterday that the gymnasium teacher had laughed at her because she talked about "planting the smallpox" when she meant vaccinating.
"You aren't too stupid at all," the teacher of Geography assured her. "To-morrow I'll speak to Dr. Ellis about it. In the mean time, you report with the Juniors."
Sarah's room-mates were not at all pleased by her promotion. Hereafter there would be no maps lying in her desk ready to be copied, and their marks would be materially lowered. They felt that her change of classes was a personal grievance.
"No wonder that you get along," said Ellen rudely. "You are what we call a teacher's pet. The other evening I went to Miss Ellingwood's room to get permission to go downstairs, and the Latin teacher was helping you. I don't think it is fair."
Sarah opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, flushing scarlet. The Latin teacher did help her, but not with her regular lessons. His helping her was a joke between him and Miss Ellingwood. They had a great many jokes together, many of which Sarah did not understand. He said that he should have to have some excuse for coming to see Miss Ellingwood so often; he would pretend that Sarah was his pupil. And so he used to give her simple sight translations to read. It was not part of her daily lesson; with that of course he never helped her at all. It was true that she studied her Latin grammar very hard, so that she should be able to read at sight for Mr. Sattarlee without very much stumbling, and she paid all the more attention to her daily lessons. But he did not help her with them.
Ellen's remark seemed like an accusation of dishonesty. But she did not explain, she could not. It seemed like disloyalty to talk about the Latin teacher and his coming to Miss Ellingwood's room. He seemed to belong to Miss Ellingwood, and if she were kind enough to allow Sarah to be there when he came,—and he never came unless Sarah was there,—it would be all the more contemptible to talk to Ellen Ritter about it. Sarah hunted through her drawer for a fresh pencil and went back to Miss Ellingwood's room. Her books had not been in her own room for a month, nor had she slept there.
By this time Sarah had begun to think that the curriculum was very carelessly planned. She was even with the Juniors in History and Physical Geography and Latin, which were the three most difficult subjects of the six which the Juniors had to pass.
She did not realize that she was growing a little tired. She could scarcely keep her eyes open until bedtime; it seemed to her that the Juniors, busily practicing for their play, or Mr. Sattarlee, calling upon Miss Ellingwood, would never go. Gymnasium had become more of a bore than ever. She disliked it before because it was monotonous; now her step lagged in the marches and her arms fell heavily in the drills because she was tired.