“Man or wasp?” returned Mother Wit, quickly.
Jess laughed. “You can’t catch Laura with your stale jokes, Bobby,” she gibed.
“That’s all right; I asked for information. But you girls don’t know anything. You’re writing plays. That’s enough to give you softening of the brain. The folks that know it all are the squabs,” chuckled Bobby, referring to the freshman class. “What do you suppose one of them sprang this morning?”
“I haven’t the least idea,” spoke Laura.
“Why, she was asked to define the difference between instinct and intelligence, and she said: ‘Instinct knows everything needed without learning it; but human beings have reason, so we have to study ourselves half blind to keep from being perfect fools!’ Now, what do you know about that?”
“I believe that child was right,” sighed Jess. “If I only had instinct I wouldn’t have to worry about the questions Gee Gee is going to give us this afternoon.”
“Oh, say not so!” gasped Bobby, rolling her eyes and putting up both hands. “I am trying to forget about those exams——There’s the bell! Back to the mines!” she groaned, and rushed to take her place in the line.
The Junior class crowded into Miss Carrington’s room and took their seats. The examination covered several of the more important studies. The teacher took her place, adjusted the thick glasses she always wore, and looked sternly over the room.
“Young ladies,” she said, in her most severe manner, “I hope you are all prepared for the review. But I doubt it—I seriously doubt it. Some of you have been falling behind of late in a most astonishing manner, and I fear for your standing—I fear for it.”
This manner of approaching the exam, was, of course, very soothing to the nervous girls; but it was Gee Gee’s way and they should all have been used to it by this time. She had opened the drawer of her desk—the top right-hand drawer—and was fumbling in it.