LITMIR.BIZ

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cried Laura. “I’m glad to see you here. What does the doctor say about the scheme of our forming an athletic association?”

      “I don’t know what he thinks about the proposed association,” returned the physician’s daughter; “but I’m sure he approves of athletics for girls. He told mother only yesterday that I ought to do at least half the sweeping, and so relieve mother and the maid,” and Nellie Agnew laughed. “What do you think of that? Father says I am getting round shouldered and flat chested. I do hope we’ll go in for athletics. I don’t like housework.”

      “Lazy girl!” said Laura. “That is the way it will be with lots of them – I know. If it is play, they’ll like it; but anything like real work – ”

      “There goes Laura Belding again – telling us all how we should be good and proper,” said a sneering voice behind Laura. “Really, I should think you’d be tired of telling us all how to conduct ourselves. You ought to run a ‘Heart to Heart Talks’ department in the Evening Awful.”

      “Hessie Grimes! Mean thing!” hissed Jess in Laura’s ear. But the latter turned an unruffled countenance upon the rather overdressed, red-faced girl whose strident voice had broken in upon the good-natured conversation of the group.

      “Oh, no, Hester. I don’t think my forte is journalism. We’ll let Jess take that position,” Laura said. “I see you and Lily Pendleton are both here, so there is nobody else to wait for. We can go upstairs, I guess.”

      “Oh, I don’t know as I want to join the silly old society,” giggled Lily, who was a slender, white faced girl, who always clung to Hester and instead of giving the more assertive girl the benefit of her support, “clung like the ivy to the oak-tree’s branch.”

      “Lil and Hessie expect to be ‘touched’ for the M. O. R.’s,” said Jess, quickly.

      “Huh!” exclaimed Bobby Hargrew. “Perhaps they’ve another guess coming. The Middle of the Road Girls are not taking in many Sophs – we can make up our minds to that.”

      “And do Hessie and Lily wish to join such a solemn conclave as the Mothers of the Republic,” demanded Nell Agnew, laughing, and making another play upon the initials of the most popular society of Central High. “I wouldn’t believe it.”

      “You don’t know whether I wish to join or not, Miss!” snapped Hester Grimes.

      “Say!” cried Bobby. “Heard the latest? Know what Chet and Lance and Short and Long call the M. O. R. girls?”

      “What is it?” asked the twins, in chorus.

      “The Mary O’Rourkes! And Mary O’Rourke is a member – she’s a senior, you know, and just the nicest girl! But her initials are the same as the society’s – and nobody knows what the initials stand for. That is, nobody outside the society.”

      There had begun a general advance into the school building and up the broad stairway, ere this. Chattering and laughing, in little groups and by couples, the girls mounted the two flights and advanced slowly into the hall, or into the main office next to it. The windows of this office were over the front entrance of the building, and although the room was a very long one, it was brilliantly lighted, the windows reaching almost from ceiling to floor.

      A large globe of water with goldfish and some aquatic plants and coral in it had the post of honor on a stand in the center of the bowed windows. Before the window was Principal Franklin Sharp’s great table-desk, and a big rubbish basket beside it. The janitor had not yet dusted and cleaned these rooms for the week, knowing that the girls were to hold their meeting there.

      “Mrs. Case and Gee Gee are here already, girls,” whispered Bobby Hargrew, after peering in somewhat cautiously at the door of the music room.

      Laura and her chum, with the doctor’s daughter and some of the older girls, approached the hall where the meeting was to be held. There were already fifty or more girls gathered in the music room and as many more were strolling through the corridors, or in the office.

      Suddenly a burst of half-stifled laughter arose from the office. A crowd of the more mischievous girls were about Bobby Hargrew. Miss Carrington stepped down from the platform at the end of the music room and marched steadily toward the office.

      “Oh! Bobby’s going to catch it again!” whispered Jess in Laura’s ear.

      But there was no opportunity for her friends to warn the sprightly Clara of the approach of her nemesis. And when Miss Carrington, otherwise Gee Gee, came to the doorway and through her eye-glasses beheld the heinous offense of Bobby the teacher was, indeed, very much horrified.

      Bobby was perched on the corner of Mr. Sharp’s desk, in a most unladylike attitude, and apparently just removing a burning cigarette from her rosy lips! The blue smoke curled away from the horrid thing, and Bobby was leaning back, with her roguish glance following the smoke-rings, and apparently enjoying the weed immensely.

      “Miss Hargrew!”

      The awful voice startled everybody but Bobby herself. Perhaps the wicked one had been expecting it.

      “What do I see, Miss Hargrew?” demanded Gee Gee, in a tone of cold horror.

      “I really do not know, Miss Carrington,” replied Bobby, as the girls shrank away from her vicinity, and she herself hopped down to the floor, hiding her hands behind her. “I never did know just how far you could see with your glasses.”

      “Miss Hargrew, come here!” snapped the teacher, in no mood for frivolity.

      Bobby approached slowly. She held her hands behind her back like a naughty child.

      “Let me see what is in your hand, Miss!” commanded the teacher

      Bobby brought forth her right hand – empty.

      “Your other hand, Miss!”

      Back snapped the culprit’s right hand and then her left hand appeared – likewise empty.

      “Miss Hargrew! I demand that you give me what you are hiding in your hand, at once!” cried Miss Carrington.

      Slowly, and with drooping mien, the culprit brought forth both hands. In the fingers of one still smoked the brown object the teacher had spied.

      “A vile cigarette!” she gasped.

      “No, ma’am,” replied Bobby, quite bravely. “Only a piece of Chinese punk-stick left over from last year’s Fourth of July celebration. I wouldn’t smoke a cigarette, Miss Carrington. I don’t think they’re nice – do you?”

      It was impossible for the other girls to smother their laughter. A ripple of merriment spread back to the music room. Now, Miss Carrington was a very unfortunate woman. She had no sense of humor. There should be a civil service examination for educational instructors in the line of “sense of humor.” For those who could not “pass” would never make really successful teachers.

      “Clara Hargrew!” snapped Miss Carrington, her glasses almost emitting sparks. “You will show me a five hundred word essay upon the topic ‘Respect to Our Superiors’ when you come to the classes, Monday morning. And you may go home now. Until your standing in deportment is higher, you can have no part in athletics, save those gymnastic exercises catalogued already in the school’s curriculum. After-school athletics are forbidden you, Miss Hargrew.”

      Bobby at first paled, and then grew very red. Tears stood in her usually sparkling eyes.

      “Oh, Miss Carrington!” she cried. “I was only in fun. And – and this is not a regular school session. This is Saturday.”

      “You are in the precincts of the school, Miss.” said Gee Gee. “Do as you are bid. And throw that nasty thing away.”

      She swept back to the platform at the upper end of the music room, and those girls who had not already gone ahead of her were quick to leave the culprit to herself. Hester Grimes smiled sneeringly at poor little Bobby.

      “Got taken up that time pretty short, didn’t you, Miss Smarty?” she jeered.

      Miss

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