"It's a lie!" interrupted Eva gently. "I don't make nothing like that.
I stands by my line und Sadie she makes faces on me with her hand. It
ain't polite." This with plaintive self-righteousness. "No ma'an, it
_ain't_ polite--you makes snoots mit your hand like this." And as Eva
illustrated with outspread fingers and a pink thumb in juxtaposition to
a diminutive nose, Teacher, with uncertain gravity, was forced to admit
that snoots of that description are sanctioned by few books of
etiquette.

"Now, my dear little girls," said she, "this quarrelling must stop.
I want you to kiss each other as cousins should."

This suggestion was a distinct failure. Eva and Sadie, with much
fluttering of aprons and waving of curls, sought opposite corners of
the schoolroom, while up started Sarah Schrodsky with: "Teacher, they
couldn't to make no kissing. They're mad on theirselves 'cause their
mammas has a mad. Sadie's mamma says like this on Eva's mamma, 'Don't
you dast to talk to me--you lives by the fifth floor und your man is
a robber.' Und Eva's mamma says--"

When Teacher had managed to silence Sarah she led the weeping
Gonorowskys back to their places and the scholastic world wagged on
in outward tranquillity.

Hostilities were temporarily suspended some days later owing to the
illness of Sadie, by far the more aggressive of the opposing parties.
Eva led a placid life for three peaceful days, and then--as by law
prescribed and postal card invited--Sadie's mother came to explain
her daughter's absence. Large of person, bland of manner, in a heavy