hear what we're saying," and the two girls, arm in arm, strolled off to a
distant part of the court.

The afternoon session wore on. The day grew warmer, the sky became
overcast, and there was the dull muttering of distant thunder. There
seemed a tension in the air--as if something was going to snap. Doubtless
you have often felt it--a sensation as though pins and needles were
pricking you all over. As though you wanted to scream--to cry
out--against an uncertain sensation that gripped you.

In the various classrooms the droning voices were heard--of the
pupils in recitations, or of the teachers as they patiently explained
some point.

The thunder rumbled nearer and nearer. Now and then a vivid flash of
lightning split the sombre clouds. At such times the nervous girls would
jump in their seats, and there would follow hysterical, though quickly
subdued, bursts of laughter from their more stolid mates, or the boys.

The four who were to go on the walking tour together were in the Latin
class. Amy was standing up, translating--or trying to translate--a
passage from Caesar. She halted and stammered, though usually she got
perfect marks in this study.

"Take it a bit slower, Miss Stonington," suggested Miss Greene, the
teacher. "That is very good. You should know that word--_nequaquam_--take
your time."

"_Nequaquam"_ said Amy faintly, "not ever--"