of her arm, and rocked it for Mary Parsons' benefit; and
Gipsy put an amount of sham sentiment into her execution calculated to
convulse the others. At the end of the lesson the class trooped away in
a state of frank rebellion.

"Really, this is too much!" protested Dilys Fenton. "We can't be
expected to sing her silly songs."

"It's just baby nonsense!" exclaimed Norah Bell.

"The music's pretty," said Joyce Adamson.

"Oh, yes, the music--but look at the words!" scoffed Gipsy, turning over
the pages of the new copies. "Did you ever see anything so absolutely
idiotic in all your life as this?

"'Old hare's little son
Is up to good fun,
And skipping and prancing
He's bent upon dancing.
Just see how he spins
On his dear little pins!'"

"It's an affront to ask us to learn such rubbish!" declared the outraged
girls. "We shall really have to speak to Poppie about it."

"Yes, a good idea! Let's complain to Poppie."

"If she'll listen."

"She's not generally so ready to hear our grievances."

"Well, something will have to be done, for we can't go on week after
week with this baby stuff. It's like turning back to one's ABC. I
declare we'd more sensible songs when I was in the Kindergarten."

"I'll take my book home, and perhaps I can get my mother to write a
letter to Poppie about it," suggested Mary Parsons.

"You! Why, you're the one who's to sit serenading over your infant
brother's cradle!"

"Perhaps Sausage will bring a doll to school next week and make us
practise with it in turns! She'd be quite capable of it," sniggered
Maude Helm.

Nobody plucked up sufficient courage to interview Miss Poppleton on the
subject. It is one thing for schoolgirls to growl, and quite another to
venture to remonstrate with the Principal about the lessons. Miss
Poppleton was not an approachable person, and except in extreme cases
her pupils did not venture to get up deputations. Gipsy voiced the
opinions of the class, however, in airing their grievances to Miss
Edith, and gave her an animated account of their special bug-bear, the
new song book.

"Oh, dear me, Gipsy! I'm very sorry!" said Miss Edith, puckering up her
forehead anxiously. "I'm afraid you girls behave very badly in the
singing class. You ought to have more respect for Fraeulein Hochmeyer. I
hope Mary Parsons' mother won't write about it. It puts Miss Poppleton
in a most awkward position when