Phoebe.

(_She seats him on her knee, and he thinks of a way to please her._)

If any boy says you can't cane I will blood him, Miss Phoebe.

(PHOEBE _shudders, and_ MISS SUSAN _again darts in. She signs to_
PHOEBE _to send_ ARTHUR _away._)

MISS SUSAN (_as soon as_ ARTHUR _has gone_). Phoebe, if a herring and
a half cost three ha'pence, how many for elevenpence?

PHOEBE (_instantly_). Eleven.

MISS SUSAN. William Smith says it is fifteen; and he is such a big
boy, do you think I ought to contradict him? May I say there are
differences of opinion about it? No one can be really sure, Phoebe.

PHOEBE. It is eleven. I once worked it out with real herrings.
(_Stoutly._) Susan, we must never let the big boys know that we are
afraid of them. To awe them, stamp with the foot, speak in a ferocious
voice, and look them unflinchingly in the face. (_Then she pales._)
Oh, Susan, Isabella's father insists on her acquiring algebra.

MISS SUSAN. What is algebra exactly; is it those three cornered things?

PHOEBE. It is _x_ minus _y_ equals _z_ plus _y_ and things like that.
And all the time you are saying they are equal, you feel in your heart,
why should they be.

(_The music of the band swells here, and both ladies put their hands to
their ears._)

It is the band for to-night's ball. We must not grudge their
rejoicings, Susan. It is not every year that there is a Waterloo to
celebrate.

MISS SUSAN. I was not thinking of that. I was thinking that he is to
be at the ball to-night; and we have not seen him for ten years.

PHOEBE (_calmly_). Yes, ten years. We shall be glad to welcome our
old friend back, Susan. I am going in to your room now to take the
Latin class.

(_A soldier with a girl passes--a yokel follows angrily._)

MISS SUSAN. Oh, that weary Latin, I wish I had the whipping of the man
who invented it.

(_She returns to her room, and the sound of the music dies away_. MISS
PHOEBE, _who is not a very accomplished classical scholar, is taking a
final peep at the declensions when_ MISS SUSAN _reappears excitedly._)

PHOEBE. What is it?

MISS SUSAN (_tragically_). William Smith! Phoebe, I tried to look
ferocious, indeed I did, but he saw I was afraid, and before the whole
school he put out his tongue at me.

PHOEBE. Susan!

(_She is lion-hearted; she remembers_ ARTHUR'S _instructions, and
practises with the cane._)

MISS SUSAN (_frightened_). Phoebe, he is much too big. Let i