Peggy thought it charming, and said so; she was rapidly losing her heart to her pretty butterfly neighbour.
"I thought you'd like to see it!" said Viola, naïvely. "It makes it easier to study, if you see something pretty. Ta, dear! I wish you were going. We shall have a dandy time, simply dandy!"
She fluttered out, and left the door ajar behind her, so that Peggy could not help hearing the half-whispered colloquy that ensued in the corridor.
"Went to say good-bye to the Veezy Vee. Why shouldn't I?"
"Why should you? You'll have her around your neck if you don't take care, like a lump, as she is."
"Hush, V.! you're quite vinegar, aren't you? Why? She's perfectly harmless, and I find her quaint. You know I adore quaintness!"
"Oh, come along, and don't talk flummery to me; you know I can't stand it."
The two passed on, and Peggy's ears burned uncomfortably. Evidently Vivia Varnham had taken a violent dislike to her; well, she certainly returned it. And of course that would prevent her from ever seeing much of the other, sweet pretty thing. Well, of course she should have to be alone most of the time. She went to the window again, and saw the two V's climbing in; then there was a great shouting and waving of handkerchiefs, and they drove away. Peggy sighed, and sat down once more to her task. It was rhetoric, and her whole nature cried out against it; but the study was prescribed, and the teacher, Miss Pugsley, was reported to be very strict. Peggy put her elbows on the table, and her head on her hands, and bent in good earnest over the book.
"'Both prepositions and conjunctions are called connectives.'
"Oh, dear! then why can't we call them connectives, and have one word to remember, instead of three?