“She's the matron,” said Percy, feeling called upon to explain.
“Oh!” said Phronsie, drawing a long breath, “but I thought Tom said she was a fox, Grandpapa.”
“That's her name,” said Tom, nodding at her; “Jemima Fox—isn't that a sweet name, Phronsie?”
“I don't think it is a very sweet one, Tom,” said Phronsie, feeling quite badly to be obliged to say so.
“I agree with you,” said Tom, while the others all laughed. “Well, Phronsie, she's just as far from being nice as her name is.”
“Oh dear me!” exclaimed Phronsie, looking quite grieved.
“But I have something nice to tell you,” said Tom quickly, “so I'll hurry on, and let the other personages at Dr. Marks' slide. Well,—but I want you all to understand, though”—and he wrinkled up his brows,—“that when a fellow does real, bang-up, fine things at that school, it means something. You will, won't you?” He included them all now in a sweeping glance, letting his blue eyes rest the longest on Mrs. Fisher's face; while Phronsie broke in, “What's bang-up, Grandpapa?”
“You must ask Tom,” replied Grandpapa, with a little laugh.
“Oh, that's just schoolboy lingo,” Tom made haste to say, as his face got red.
“What's lingo?” asked Phronsie, more puzzled than before.