"Chiefly, I reckon I'd like no school," sighed Genevieve; "but if I can't have that, I'd like another box of teachers opened so we could have a new one." "What's the trouble now?" "Oh, I reckon the trouble is with me," admitted Genevieve, ruefully. "Anyhow, Miss Jane would say it was. I flunked in Cæsar--but that's no reason why Miss Hart should have been so disagreeable! But then, I suppose she has to be. She came out of that kind of a box, you know." Harold laughed, though a little gravely. "You still think they come all boxed, sorted, and labeled, do you?" he said. "And that they aren't 'just folks' at all?" "Yes, I still think so. They never seem a bit like 'folks' to me. It's their business to sit up there stiff and solemn and stern, and see that you behave and learn your lessons. I never saw one that I liked, except Miss Palmer and Miss Jones--but then, they came out of a jolly box, anyhow." "Lucky ladies!" Genevieve laughed rebelliously. "Oh, I know I'm horrid," she admitted; "but--well, I went off for a ride with Tilly yesterday after school, instead of paying attention to his Imperial Highness, Cæsar; and that's what was the trouble. But, Harold, it was so perfectly glorious out I had to--I just had to! I tell you, every bit of me was tingling to go! Now what do you suppose Miss Hart knows of a feeling like that? She simply couldn't understand it." "But--Miss Hart doesn't look very old--to me." Genevieve stopped short, and turned half around. "Old! Why, she's a _teacher_, Harold!" Harold chuckled, as they started forward again. "I should like to see some teachers' faces if they could hear you say 'teacher' in that tone of voice, young lady!" "Pooh! I reckon it would take considerable to make me think of any teacher as _young_," retorted Genevieve, with emphasis. "All right; but--aren't you coming out, later, for a walk or--or something?" asked Harold, a little anxiously, as they reached the Kennedy driveway. She shook her head. "No, little boy," she answered, with mock cheerfulness. "I'm going to practise, then I'm going to study my algebra, then I'm going to study my Latin, then I'm going to study my French, then I'm going to study my English history, then--" "_Good-by!_" laughed Harold, clapping his hands to his ears, and hurrying away. Unhesitating as was Genevieve's assertion of her intentions, those intentions were not carried out, even to the practising, first on the list; for, in putting down her books, Genevieve dropped some loose papers to the floor. The papers were some that had that day been returned by Miss Hart; and, as the girl gathered them up now, a sheet of note paper, covered with handwriting entirely different from her own, attracted her attention. She recognized the writing at once as that of Miss Hart, and she supposed at first that the paper must contain some special suggestions or criticisms in regard to her own work. With a quick frown, therefore, she began to read it.