"Oh, yes, she has," groaned Genevieve. "We can sit still and look pleasant, and study, study, study! I reckon I shall have to, all right, too, this term, at the rate my studies and recitation hours are piling up," she finished, as the bell rang for them to go to their seats. All days--even the worst of them--come to an end sometime; and at last Genevieve was free to go home. Half-way to the Kennedy house a soft whistle of the Happy Hexagons' Club song sounded behind her; and a moment later Harold Day caught up with her. "Well?" he queried. "But it isn't 'well' at all," wailed Genevieve, with a shake of her head. "So I judged from your face." "But--have _you_ ever had Miss Hart for a teacher?" "No; she's new this year. We had Miss Holbrook in her place last year, and she was fine; but she got married, you know. She herself recommended Miss Hart for the position, I believe." "Did she?" sighed Genevieve. "What a lugubrious face!" laughed Harold. "Suppose you tell me what is the matter with Miss Hart, eh?" "I can't. It's just an intangible, indefinable 'don't-like-her' feeling. She doesn't sit still a minute, and she's awful on rules. Tilly calls her 'Miss Hartless.'" Harold laughed. "Trust Tilly to call her something!" he rejoined. "But I don't believe the lady will be half bad when you get used to her." "That's what your cousin Alma says." "Well, I believe she's right," declared Harold. "It sounds to me as if Miss Hart were nervous and afraid." Genevieve opened her eyes. "Afraid! A _teacher afraid_!" "Wouldn't you be afraid if you had to follow where you know there had been such favorites as Miss Holbrook and Miss Palmer were?" "Why, I never thought of it that way," frowned Genevieve. "I didn't suppose teachers ever had--er--feelings like that." "Well, I suppose teachers are--folks, like the rest of us," hazarded the youth, as he stopped a minute at the foot of the Kennedys' front walk. Genevieve shook her head mischievously. "I don't," she protested. "They always seem to me like things you buy for school, just like you do the books and chalk, and that they come in boxes all graded and sorted--primary, grammar, high school, French, German, and all that," she flashed over her shoulder, as she skipped up the walk toward the house. "There!" sighed Genevieve, bounding up on to the veranda, and dropping her books into a chair. "I'm going for a ride with Tilly, Aunt Julia, please, if you don't mind." "Very well, dear; but don't stay too long. There's your practicing, you know." Genevieve scowled, and made an impatient gesture--neither of which Mrs. Kennedy seemed to notice. "You have your watch, I see," she went on serenely; "so I don't think you'll forget." Genevieve bit her lip. She threw a hurried glance into Mrs. Kennedy's face; but that, too, Mrs. Kennedy did not appear to notice. "No, Aunt Julia," said Genevieve, a little constrainedly, as she went to saddle her horse, "I sha'n't--forget."