Bobby's eyes flashed a reply. But her lips "ran o'er with honey," as Jess
Morse quoted, _sotto voce_.

"No, Miss Carrington. I am merely holding it," said the girl softly.

Miss Carrington flushed. She knew she was unfair; and Bobby's unexpected
reply pilloried the teacher before the whole class. There was a bustle in
the room and a not-entirely-smothered snicker.

Had there been any way of punishing the girl Miss Carrington would
certainly have done it. She was neither just nor merciful, but she was
exact. She could see no crevice in Bobby's armor. The incident had to pass,
and the girl remained unpunished.

However, it did seem as though Miss Carrington were more watchful each day
of the girls who belonged to the Players Club. She was evidently expecting
those who had parts to learn to show some falling off in recitation, or the
like. Her sharp tongue lashed those who faltered unmercifully. The girls
began to show the strain. They became nervous.

"I really feel as though I must scream sometimes!" said Nellie Agnew,
almost in tears, one afternoon as the particular chums of Central High left
the building for home. "I know my lessons just as well as ever, but Gee Gee
has got me so worked up that I expect to fail every time I come up to
recite to her."

"She is too old to teach, anyway," snapped Jess. "My mother says so. She
ought to have been put on the shelf by the Board of Education long ago."

"Oh, oh!" gasped Dora Lockwood. "What bliss if she were!"