"There was a head girl of St. Chad's, Who was subject to fancies and fads; When we tried to talk slang, She declared it was wrong, And said she considered us cads." "Good!" laughed Ruth. "Only, of course, Vivian wouldn't dream of using such a word as 'cad'. Now, I've got one about you: "There's a girl at our house we call 'Paddy': She's not 'goody-goody', but 'baddy'; She loves practical jokes, Or to play us a hoax, Though we tell her such tricks are not 'Chaddy'." "Very well, Miss Ruth Latimer! I'll return the compliment," said Honor. "How do you like this?-- "There's a girl at our house who's called Ruth: She is fond of an unpleasant truth; She says she is seeking To practise plain speaking, But we think she is merely uncouth." "I don't mind in the least," declared Ruth; "in fact, I'm rather flattered than otherwise." "Make one about Maisie or me," implored Lettice. "You can say as nasty things as you want." "Nothing could possibly rhyme with Lettice," announced Honor after a moment's cogitation, "or with Salad either. I might do better with Maisie. Let me see--crazy, hazy, daisy, lazy--I think those are all. Will this suit you?-- "There's a girl in this garden called Maisie; At lessons she's horribly lazy, But she's splendid at sports, And at games of all sorts, While o'er cricket she waxes quite crazy." "What are you all laughing at?" enquired Flossie Taylor, sauntering up to join the group, and taking a seat on the grass. "Limericks. Honor is winding them off by the yard. Now, Paddy, let us have one about Flossie! Quick, while your genius is burning!" "It's only flickering," laughed Honor, "but I'll try: "There's a girl at St. Chad's who's named Flossie; She tries to be terribly 'bossy', She sets us all straight (Which is just what we hate), And makes us exceedingly cross(y)." "Oh, what a fearfully lame rhyme!" said Lettice. "I know it is, but I couldn't think of any other word. If you're offended, Flossie, you can go away." "I'm not silly enough to care about such trifles," replied Flossie loftily. "You've quite left out Janie," said Lettice, "and there she is sewing all the time, and as usual never offering a single remark. Janie Henderson, why don't you talk?" "You don't give me a chance to put in a word," protested Janie. "Perhaps I'm like the proverbial parrot, which couldn't talk, but thought all the more." "You mean that I do the talking, and not the thinking?" "I didn't say so." "But you implied it. You deserve a horrid Limerick, and I shall make one myself. Wait a moment, while I rack my brains. Oh, now I've got it!-- "Miss Henderson, otherwise Jane, May think very hard with her brain, But it never comes out, So she leaves us in doubt If there are any thoughts to explain.