udy, 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 practicin