It was one of the master's "catches". She found that he had an abundant supply.
Another thing that morning reminded her of that mysterious "vibgyor" of the old times.
Master McCosh told them they could clasp Alexander's generals; then Pauline Hayes gave their names—Cassander, Lysimachus, Antiognus, Seleucus and Ptolemy. Marjorie had that to tell Miss Prudence. Miss Prudence lived through her own school days that winter with Marjorie; the girl's enthusiasm reminded her of her own. Master McCosh, who never avoided personalities, observed as he marked the last recitation:
"Miss West studies, young ladies; she has no more brains than one or two of the rest of you, but she has something that more than half of you woefully lack—application and conscience."
"Perhaps she expects to teach," returned Miss Parks, in her most courteous tone, as she turned the diamond upon her engagement finger.
"I hope she may teach—this class," retorted the master with equal courtesy.
Miss Parks smiled at Marjorie with her lovely eyes and acknowledged the point of the master's remark with a slight inclination of her pretty head.
At the noon intermission a knot of the girls gathered around Marjorie's chair; Emma Downs took the volume of "Bridgewater Treatises" out of her hand and marched across the room to the book case with it, the others clapped their hands and shouted.
"Now we'll make her talk," said Ella Truman. "She is a queen in the midst of her court."
"She isn't tall enough," declared Maria Denyse.