You may well imagine that Mary and I set to with a will to get all we could out of such a thrilling subject. There were times when we felt that Miss Cox was drawing a little on her imagination to find poetry in such an example as this, for instance:
4x-2/3-3x-1/3-27=0
On the whole, though, Algebra was much more interesting than Arithmetic, and sometimes I had the realization that it did mean a lot to me; and Mary said she felt the same way. Anyhow, in the early spring we were able to take the sophomore tests and go on in that class. Miss Peyton said she considered it really wonderful that I should have progressed so rapidly, but I told her it was all due to Miss Cox's being so certain that Lewis Carroll and I had similar brains.
CHAPTER IX.
FOOTBALL.
None of our crowd had reached what the grown-ups call "the boy age." We had our heroes of romance that it was difficult for any of the male persuasion in real life to live up to. Tweedles declared that Zebedee was boy enough for them; although Dum thought if she ever met a Prosper le Gai she might consider him; while Dee had an idea a boy like Laurie, in "Little Women," would be some sport and she might be willing to knock around with him a bit. Jane Eyre's "Mr. Rochester" was my beau ideal.
"I want a dark, masterful lover who could tie the poker up in a bowknot if he had a mind to; a rude man who could bring tears to my eyes by his gruffness, and then, with the gentleness of a woman, soothe my aching head."
"Oh, Page," chimed in Annie Pore, "how could you want such a ruffian? I like Henry Esmond, so kind and courteous and dignified——"