“That’s what Father says!” cried Jo. “He always believes every one’s all right.”
“Then, when you get let down by some one who isn’t all right,” said Grace—“well, you come with a bump!”
“That’s true, I suppose. But Father says he hasn’t had many bumps, and on the whole he’d rather have had them than give up believing in people. Anyhow, I believe in every one—except Miss Smith!”
“Well, go on believing—but keep your eyes about you next year, as well,” said Helen, laughing. “You two will be seniors next year, and if you’re not awfully careful you’ll be prefects before it’s over. A lot of seniors are leaving, and Miss Dampier will be so hard up for prefects that she may have to promote even graceless children like you!”
“Good—gracious!” said the twins, in tones of horror.
“It’s true. You can’t expect for ever to blush unseen in the murky obscurity of the Middle School—’specially when you win tennis matches. Miss Dampier has her eagle eye on you.”
“But—but——” gasped Jean, “we shan’t be sixteen until next year! And you’re eighteen, Helen.”
“Well, I was a prefect when I was sixteen,” said the Captain, drawing her dainty embroidered kimono round her. “So were Nita and Ellen. And you two are higher in the school for your age than I was.”
“Yes, but you’ve often told us that, being twins, we’ve only sense enough for one real person divided between us!” said Jo, amidst laughter.
“That’s one of the ways in which one hatches sense in the young,” said Helen. “I’ve told you lots of other things, for your souls’ good. Captains have to.” She smiled at them very kindly; they looked such scared children, so ridiculously alike, in their pyjamas, with their hair tumbling about their flushed faces. “Oh, you’ll be terrors to the wicked juniors when you’re prefects, because they’ll never know which of you they’re talking to! Fancy being quite certain you’d dodged one of the Powers That Be, and then seeing her double stalk out before you!”