"That's a likely story. We'll talk more of it presently."
He went over the sum to himself, making a sort of humming noise without unclosing his lips. This "um-m-m-m!" was the only sound in the room. When he read the quotient, he snorted violently.
"Your father is a good hand at long division. You can tell him that I said so when you go home."
She met his eyes full. Slander of her father made her fearless.
"He did not help me to do that sum, Mr. Tayloe."
"Beatrice Grigsby! what have you to say of this matter?"
Bea stammered and blushed in giving the testimony upon which the inquisitor insisted. At last he drew out the admission that her father had sat with Flea in the dining-room all the evening, and let nobody else come in.
There was no color in the face Flea turned upon her sister, but plenty of fight in flaming eyes and working lips.
"Bea Grigsby! you know that father wouldn't have helped me! He only told me once that the sum was not right."
"Silence!" thundered the teacher, bringing down the ruler upon the desk. "What more help did you want than that? David Grigsby, come here, sir!"