e moods were always particularly irritating
to Cynthia, who rarely indulged in causeless hilarity, especially at
study periods. Prudently, however, she made no remarks.

"Let's commence with geometry," she suggested, opening the text-book.
"Here we are, at Proposition XVI."

"All right," assented Joyce, with deceptive sweetness. "Give me a pencil
and paper, please." Cynthia handed them to her and began:

"Angle A equals angle B."

"_Angel_ A equals _angel_ B," murmured Joyce after her.

"Joyce, I wish you would _not_ say that!" interrupted Cynthia, sharply.

"Why not?" inquired Joyce with pretended surprise, at the same time
decorating the corners of her diagram with cherubic heads and wings.

"Because it confuses me so I can't think!" said Cynthia. "Please call
things by their right names."

"But it makes no difference with the proof, what you call things in
geometry," argued Joyce, "whether it's angles or angels or caterpillars
or coal-scuttles,--it's all the same in the end!" Cynthia ignored this,
swallowed her rising wrath, and doggedly began anew:

"Angle A equals angle B!" But Joyce, who was a born tease, could no more
resist the temptation of baiting Cynthia, than she could have refused a
chocolate ice-cream soda, so she continued to make foolish and
irrelevant comments on every geometrical statement, until, in sheer
exasperation, Cynthia threw the book aside.

"It's no use!" she groaned. "You're not in a studying frame of mind,
Joyce--certainly not for geometry. I'll go over that myself Monday
morning; but what _you're_ going to do about it, I don't know--and I
don't much care! But we've got to get through somehow. Let's try the
algebra. You always like that. Do you think you could put your mind on
it?"

"I'll try," grinned Joyce, in feigned contrition. "I'll make the
greatest effort. But you don't seem to realize that I'm actually working
_very_ hard to-night!" Cynthia opened her algebra, picked out the
problem, and read:

"'A farmer sold 300 acres--'" when Joyce suddenly interrupted:

"Do you know, Cynthia, I heard the most interesting problem the other
day. I wonder if you could solve it."

"What is it?" asked Cynthia, thankful for any awakening symptom of
interest in her difficult friend.

"Why, this," repeated Joyce with great gravity. "'If it takes an
elephant ten minutes to put on a white vest, how many pancakes will it
take to shingle a freight-car?'" Cynthia's indignation was rapidly