h and
your algebra and your English history?"

Genevieve was too absorbed even to notice the taunt, much less to reply
to it.

"Harold," she sighed, "I wish you'd tell me something."

"Certainly! You have only to command me," bowed the lad, with mock
pomposity, as he fell into step with her.

Genevieve was frowning. She did not even smile.

"Harold, if you had something that belonged to somebody else, and they
didn't know you had it and would feel dreadfully if they found out you
had it, do you think you ought to give it back to them, and so let them
know you had it, when all the time if they _didn't_ know you had it,
they wouldn't care at all?"

"W-w-well!" whistled Harold. "Do you mind--er--giving me that again,
now--say, in pieces a foot long this time? If I were Cordelia I might
give you my answer right off the handle, but--I'm not Cordelia, you
see."

Genevieve laughed a little ruefully.

"There wouldn't anybody know, of course, unless I told the rest; and I
can't tell the rest."

"Maybe not," smiled Harold, oddly; "but I'll wager you'll have to be
telling something to Miss Jane pretty quick now. I saw you when you flew
out of the yard an hour ago, and I fancy Miss Jane must have seen you,
too. At any rate, she's been to the door three times since, to my
knowledge, to look for you."

Genevieve clapped her hand to her lips.

"Mercy! I never thought to tell them a word. I just ran."

"Yes, I noticed you--ran," observed Harold, dryly.

"And they always want to know just where I am," sighed Genevieve. "O
dear! if you do something bad in order to do something good, which is
it--bad or good?"

Harold shook his head.

"That's not in mine, either," he retorted whimsically. "Really, Miss,
your questions on ethics this afternoon do you credit--but they're too
much for me."

"Well, I reckon this one is for me," sighed Genevieve again, as she came
in sight of the house and saw Miss Jane Chick at the window. "But the
other one--I know the answer to that. I shall burn it up," she said
decisively, clutching even more tightly the roll of papers in her hand,
as she turned in at the Kennedys' front walk.

CHAPTER XXII

A TEXAS "MISSIONARY"

October passed and November came. School was decidedly more bearable
now, in the opinion of Genevieve, perhaps because it was a rainy month;
but Genevieve preferred to think it was because of Miss Hart. It was
strange, really, how much Miss Hart had improved as