“Come up here on the platform, and face the 77 class,” said Mr. Hornbeck to Meg. “Read clearly now, and let your classmates enjoy the story.”
Poor Meg was very shy as she went up to the platform, for reading aloud was an ordeal for her, though at home she always had her “nose in a book,” as Norah said. She reached the platform, grasped her reading book tightly in both hands, and began to read hurriedly.
“That’s enough,” announced Miss Mason, as Meg came to the end of a long paragraph.
Meg closed her book, stepped to one side to avoid the waste basket, and put her foot squarely into Mr. Hornbeck’s high silk hat which he had placed carefully on the floor beside his chair.
“Tut! tut!” said Mr. Hornbeck reprovingly. “Don’t be so clumsy, child. Don’t kick––lift your foot out.”
Meg was crimson with embarrassment, and the class was snickering in spite of Miss Mason’s frown. Meg was glad to escape to her seat, and the committeeman moved his hat further back before the next unlucky reader came to the platform. 78
It did seem as though the noon bell would never ring, but at quarter of twelve it did, and Meg and Bobby hurried home to lunch.
“What did you do all morning?” asked Meg of the twins, who as usual were waiting for them at the gate.
“Played school,” answered Dot.
That was the usual answer. The twins never tired of playing school, and whatever Meg and Bobby told them one day they were pretty sure to “pretend” the next. Always and always, too, they wished that they might go to “regular” school.