“First, why should we accept Olaine as a slave driver, and thank her for it?” demanded Edna.
“Because this graduating class has higher marks and ‘does Mrs. Pangborn proud’ more than any class ever graduated from Glenwood. Didn’t you know that?” replied Dorothy.
“And I guess we can thank Olaine,” said Tavia, nodding. “I know I can.”
“And I! And I!” chorused others.
“She was awful crusty about it,” said Molly, “but she did know how to make us climb.”
“We’re some climbers,” remarked Tavia, airily. “I’ve got so high myself that I feel dizzy.”
“But say! about Olaine. Is she really going to leave?” impatiently demanded one miss who could not keep her mind on the main point.
“Wait!” commanded Dorothy. “The man is going to take the pictures. Do be still now.”
“Steady, my hearties,” drawled Tavia; but her lips hardly moved.
There was silence all over the great lawn. It was then that the aviator—had he flown over the spot suddenly—might have thought the white of lawn and roses heaps of unsullied snow, for the girls were just as still as they could be.