Dicky grinned. “Hooking jack!”

“Hooking jack?” Maida repeated in a puzzled tone.

“Hooking jack—playing hookey—playing truant.” Dicky watched Maida’s
face but her expression was still puzzled. “Pretending to go to
school and not going,” he said at last.

“Oh,” Maida said. “I understand now.”

“She just hates school,” Dicky went on. “They can’t make her go. Old
Stoopendale, the truant officer, is always after her. Little she
cares for old Stoopy though. She gets fierce beatings for it at
home, too. Funny thing about Rosie—she won’t tell a lie. And when
her mother asks her about it, she always tells the truth. Sometimes
her mother will go to the schoolhouse door with her every morning
and afternoon for a week. But the moment she stops, Rosie begins to
hook jack again.”

“Mercy me!” Maida said. In all her short life she had never heard
anything like this. She was convinced that Rosie Brine was a very
naughty little girl. And yet, underneath this conviction, burned an
ardent admiration for her.

“She must be very brave,” she said soberly.

“Brave! Well, I guess you’d think so! Arthur Duncan says she’s
braver than a lot of boys he knows. Arthur and she hook jack
together sometimes. And, oh cracky, don’t they have the good times!