he shadow of the overhanging trees along the shore. Once they
paddled softly around the little island at the end, and a colony of baby
mud-turtles went scrambling madly from a log into the water. When the
brother began to fish for one with an oar, Bea protested in a grieved
tone.

"But you don't seem to realize that I am worrying about freckles every
minute that we stay out here in the broad sunlight. What are trees for if
not to provide shade for girls without hats? And anyhow it is unkind to
seek to tear a turtle from his happy home. If you do that, I shall never,
never consent to admit you to our highest class in manners."

"Highest class in manners," he echoed, "that sounds promising. Is it
another story?"

"It certainly is," replied Bea, "and if you are very good indeed and will
keep the boat close to the bank from the first word to the last, I will
tell you all about it."

Berta called it our classes in manners, but Miss Anglin, our sophomore
English teacher, said that it was every bit as bad as gossip. When Berta
told her that she was the one who had started us on it by advising us to
read character in the street-cars, she looked absolutely appalled, and
groaned, "What next?"

This was the beginning of it. When Miss Anglin took charge of our essay
work the second semester, she explained that we should be required to
write a one-page theme every day except Saturday and Sunday. Lila almost
fainted away, because she hates writing anything, even letters home.
Robbie Belle looked scared, and I opened my mouth so wide that my jaw
ached for several minutes afterward. But Berta kept her wits about her.
She said, "Miss Anglin, we are all living here together, and we see the
same things every day. I'm afraid you'll be bored when you read about
them over and over. Why can't some of us choose intellectual topics?"

By intellectual topics she meant subjects that you can read up in the
encyclopaedia. Miss Anglin sort of smiled. "Do you truly think that you
all see the same things day after day? How curious! Have you ever played
a game called Slander?"

"Yes, Miss Anglin," said Berta, and went on to tell how the players sit
in a circle, and the first one whispers a story to the second; and the
second repeats it as accurately as she can remember to the third; and the
third tells it to the fourth, and so on till the last one hears it and
then relates it aloud. After that the first one gives the story exactly
as he started