ntrance had descended swiftly from the
platform, repeated the question.

"Who wrote this?" he asked authoritatively. "Can't you 'ear Mr. Brand?"

"Albert, I reck'n," answered Stanley, taking his cue from his pal.

The door opened, and a girl stood on the threshold.

"Who said Albert?" she asked.

The lads turned.

The young lady wore a long drab coat and had a fair pig-tail. She was
like Boy Woodburn and yet unlike her: the figure much the same, the
colouring identical. But if it was Boy, the years had coarsened her and
altered the expression in her eyes not for the better.

With swift, decisive steps she made for the platform amid the suppressed
giggles of the lads.

Jerry made way for her at once.

The girl proceeded to rub out with the duster all the questions but the
first. Then she turned over the leaves of a Bible, wetting her thumb for
that purpose, seized the pointer, and took her stand by the blackboard.

"The first question that arises h'out of h'our lesson to-day," she began
quietly, "is this 'ere--'_What price Four-Pound-the-Second?_' Now think
afore you answers, there's good little fellers."

It was Jerry who held up his hand.

The girl pointed at him.

"You there, Jerry me boy."

"Depends on who rides him, Mrs. Chukkers," he said.

There was a deadly silence. In it the girl let the handle of the pointer
fall with the noise of a grounded rifle.

"Mrs. Who?" she asked, fatally quiet.

"Chukkers, ma'am," answered the courteous Jerry.

"Go on then," sneered the girl. "Chukkers ain't married. Nobody won't
'ave him."

Jerry had risen.

"No, ma'am. That he ain't," said the polished little gentleman. "You're
his mother--from Sacramento. Anyone could see that by the likeness.
You're the spit of each other, if I might make so bold. And I'm sure,"
said the orator, "speakin' on be'alf of all present, meself included, we
feel honoured by the presence in our umble midst of the mother of the
famous 'orseman--Chukkers Childers."

In the silence the speaker resumed his seat.

The lady addressed was too busy to reply.

She was taking off her drab coat, her picture hat, and her pig-tail, and
she was spitting in her hands.

Soaping them together, she came to the edge of the platform.

"Shall I come down and give it you?" she asked. "Or will you come up and
fetch it?"

"Neever, thank you," said Jerry, puffing imperturbably.

Albert jumped down.

"You're for it, Jerry," said Stanley, glad it