"Anna Boguslawsky," came her clear, even tones as the "B" names were reached. Hardly had Anna's timid "Here" reached her ears than a series of subdued cluckings came from some small boy's throat. She rapped for order and went on.
"Edna Bowman."
"Clu-wawk, clu-wawk," repeated the offender. Miss Brown laid her book down with a snap and glared at the class, which hesitated between ill-suppressed amusement and fear of teacher's wrath. She waited for one long, dragging moment and spoke crisply:
"Children, you are no longer third-graders. Try to act as really grown-up boys and girls ought to."
"Clu-wawk, clu-wawk," came the maddening repetition. She sprang to her feet.
"That will be quite enough," she snapped. "If that boy makes that noise again he will be sent to the office and suspended for two weeks." During the awed silence which followed, she seated herself and took up the black-covered book with impressive deliberation. All went well until the "H's" were reached.
"Albert Harrison," she called, "Albert!"
"School doctor sent him home this morning," volunteered the boy nearest Albert's empty desk.
As Miss Brown's eyes sought the record book again, an unseen something whizzed through the air. Thomas Jackson jumped to his feet and rubbed a chocolate ear belligerently.
"Who shot that rubber band? I'll fix him. Who done it? He's afraid to let me know."