“You never do,” returned Carl, dryly, “but you’ve got to go all the same. I bet you don’t play hookey again in a hurry.”
“H’m?” said Jane, “why not?”
“Why not?” the first really mirthful grin that Carl had shown that day spread slowly over his serious features. “Didn’t you catch it hot enough last time? You’re such an idiot anyway. If you’d only do your work conscientiously you wouldn’t mind school. I’d hate it too if I were as big a dunce as you.”
“Oh,—you would, would you, Goody-goody?” retorted Jane with spirit. “I’m not a dunce. I’m the brightest girl in my class.”
“Whoo-ee!” whooped Carl, staggered by this cool conceit. “Well! If you haven’t got cheek!”
“’Tisn’t cheek,” said Jane, calmly, “I am. I heard Dr. Andrews say so to Miss Trowbridge.”
“Well—he must have been talking through his hat, then,” observed Carl. “He was probably talking about someone else.”
“No, he wasn’t. They were standing outside the school-room door, at lunch-hour, and I was in there, and I heard Dr. Andrews say, ‘That little Jane Lambert has brains. She’s one of the brightest children—’”
“That’s the trouble with you!” broke in Carl, thoroughly exasperated. “You’ve got such a swell-head that you won’t work at all. And I don’t see how anyone could say that you were clever when you get about one problem right out of a dozen.”
“I don’t see how either,” said Jane placidly; “but he did. Oh, look—Miss Clementina has got a new canary!”