“Bah! I don’t have to do anything at all to get demerits. She’s just expecting me to do something all the time, and she ‘jumps’ me without giving me a chance. Any other girl in the school can cut up much worse than I do and never get a sour look; but I—oh, dear!”
“You see what it is to have a reputation for mischief,” said Laura, half inclined to laugh. “Can’t you cut out the frolic for this one term? Cure yourself of practical joking and ‘joshing’ poor Miss Carrington.”
“Great Cæsar!” ejaculated Bobby. “How could I ever do it?”
Nevertheless, with all her reckless talk, she was really trying her very best to keep out of difficulties in school, and on the other hand to make the best time possible on the cinder track.
Mrs. Case began to try her out now and then, and held the watch on her. Bobby wanted to know how fast she made the quarter; but the instructor put up her watch with a smile and a head-shake.
“That I sha’n’t tell you, Miss Hargrew. Not yet. You do your best; that’s what you are to do. If you fall back, or I see you losing form, you’ll hear about it soon enough.”
One morning before school-time Bobby heard Mrs. Ballister scolding at the back door. The old housekeeper did not often scold the maid, for she was a dear old lady and, as Bobby herself said, “as mild-tempered as a lamb.” But she heard her say:
“Be off with you! We’ve nothing for you. Scalawags like you shouldn’t prosper—filling a girl’s silly head full of more silliness. Go on at once!”
Somehow Bobby had a premonition of what the trouble was about. She ran out upon the side porch and saw two Gypsy women coming around the path from the fear of the house. They were the two who had been at Queen Grace Varey’s camp that day on the ridge when the girls of Central High had had their adventure.
“Here is a little lady,” whined the old woman. “She will buy of us,” lifting up her baskets.