"She's allers a-fightin'," ventured one of the urchins, emboldened by the teacher's reproof; at which the girl turned upon him so fiercely that he shrank hastily out of sight behind his nearest companion.
"You are not one of my scholars?" the master asked, keeping his mild eyes upon the scornful face and defiant little figure.
"No!" the girl answered. "I go to the high school!"
"You are small to be in the high school," he said, smiling upon her kindly.
"It don't go by sizes!" said the child promptly.
"No; certainly not, certainly not," said the teacher, a little staggered. "What is your name, child?"
"Lilly, sir; Lilly O'Connell," she answered, indifferently.
"Lilly!" the teacher repeated abstractedly, looking into the dusky face, with its flashing eyes and fallen ruddy tresses,—"Lilly!"
"It ought to have been Tiger-Lily!" said a pert voice. "It would suit her, I'm sure, more ways than one!" and the speaker, a pretty, handsomely-dressed blonde girl of about her own age, laughed, and looked about for appreciation of her cleverness.