“What? I’m not always so hard of hearing, but I’ve got a cold to-day. How old did you say you are?”
“Nearly nineteen,” Brownie repeated, speaking louder.
“Do you suffer much?”
“Not very much.”
“Where are your friends?”
“I have none,” and the sad, sweet eyes filled with tears.
“Humph! That’s bad for a pretty face like yours. What do you do for a living?”
“Teach.”
“Teach what?”
“Almost anything, except the higher classics.”