Mrs. Farren shuddered to think what Monday might bring forth.

The day began ominously at breakfast with general target practice,
ammunition consisting of projectiles pinched from the interior of hot
muffins. Later, when Mrs. Farren ventured into the schoolroom, she found
Scott Seagrave drawing injurious pictures of Howker on the black-board,
and Geraldine sorting lumps of sugar from the bowl on the
breakfast-tray, which had not yet been removed.

"Dearies," she began, "it is after nine o'clock and----"

"No school to-day, Mrs. Farren," interrupted Scott cheerfully; "we
haven't anything to do till Kathleen comes back, and you know it
perfectly well!"

"Yes, you have, dearie; Mrs. Severn has just sent you this list of
lessons." She held out a black-edged envelope.

Geraldine, who had been leisurely occupied in dropping cologne on a lump
of sugar, thrust the lump into her pink mouth and turned sharply on Mrs.
Farren.

"What list?" she demanded. "Give that letter to me.... Oh, Scott! Did
you ever hear of anything half so mean? Kathleen's written out about a
thousand questions in geography for us!"

"I can't stand that sort of interference!" shouted Scott, dropping his
chalk and aiming a kick at the big papier-maché globe. "I'm sorry
Kathleen's mother is probably going to die, but I've had enough
geography, too."