The “kid”, however, stood her ground.

“Shan’t move till you’ve answered my question,” she replied with aggravating impudence.

“I want Georgina Gascoyne.”

“Why, there she is all the time!”

“Where?”

“Where?”

“Under your very nose, you stupid baby! Get down from my desk, I tell you!”

 

The Junior cast what was intended to be a withering glance before she descended.

“Georgina Gascoyne, why couldn’t you answer when I called you?” she demanded abruptly.

Georgina paused in the act of sharpening a lead pencil and eyed the intruder.

“Who asked you to come in here?” she retorted.

“You babes must keep to your own classrooms! Hey, presto! Vanish! And be quick about it!” interposed Myra Johnson.

“Shan’t! Not till I’ve spoken to Georgina.”

“Cheek!”

“Suppress that kid!”