"No," returned Mrs. Huntington, firmly, "Miss Turner will know best what is needed for your grade. You are learning _nothing_. Only forty in history." "Well," sighed Jeanne, "I'm not surprised. I said that Benedict Arnold wrote 'The Star-Spangled Banner' and that Lafayette painted Gilbert Stuart's portrait of Washington. I _knew_ better, but oh, dear! When Miss Turner looks me in the eye and asks a question, my poor frightened tongue always says the wrong thing." "She'd freeze a lamp-post," said Harold, for once agreeing with his cousin. "I had her last year. Don't look at her eyes--look at her belt-buckle when you recite." "I _have_ to look at her eyes," sighed Jeanne, miserably. "One is yellow, the other is black. I _hate_ to look at them, but I always have to." "I know," agreed Harold. "I had ten months of those eyes myself. I hope you'll never meet a snake. You'd be so fascinated that you couldn't run." "Miss Turner's eyes have nothing to do with the question," said Mrs. Huntington. "Mrs. Bailey said she made an excellent tutor, so I shall certainly engage her." "Perhaps," suggested Harold, consolingly, when his mother had left the room, "she won't be able to come. She _may_ want a vacation." "Oh, I _hope_ so." "So do I," said Harold, making a face. "You see, my marks in Latin are about as bad as they make 'em. It _may_ occur to mother to let Miss Turner use up her spare time on _me_. Wow!" "Anyhow," said Jeanne, "I'm much obliged to you for trying to help." All too soon it was June. School was out and Jeanne hadn't passed in a single study. Even her deportment had received a very low mark. Miss Turner, contrary to Jeanne's fervent hope, had gladly accepted the position Mrs. Huntington had offered her. Mrs. Huntington broke the discouraging news at the breakfast table. "Your lessons will begin at nine o'clock next Monday, Jeannette," said she, firmly believing that she was doing the right thing by a strangely backward student. "With only one pupil, Miss Turner will be able to give all her attention to you." Again Harold agreed with his cousin. "I'm sorry for you," said he. "All of Miss Turner's attention is more than any one human pupil could stand." "Mother," suggested Clara, not without malice, "why don't you let Miss Turner help Harold with _his_ lessons--ouch! you beast! stop pinching me." "Why, that," approved Mrs. Huntington, "is a _very_ good idea. I'm glad you mentioned it. Still, you are going to your grandmother's so soon--I fear Harold's Latin will have to be postponed." So great was Harold's relief that he collapsed in his chair.