[Illustration: Tony ... nosed almost every inch of the shed]
The really important things in a person's life underlie the daily
occurrence like the sand that is at the bottom of the rose-bushes.
School is the sand-bank of a girl's life, rather heavy, but supporting
the roses of debates and picnics and commencement and expression
impersonations like the one Friday night is to be.
Of course Byrd Academy graduated Judge Luttrell and the Colonel and
Roxanne's Father as well as Miss Prissy, and all the other learned
ladies in the Browning Society; but for all its historical antiquity,
it is one of the most advanced places of learning in the South, and
mostly on account of the progressiveness of the Junior Class, which is
Tony and Roxanne and the rest of us.
The Senior Class this year is a great failure, because all are girls
but the Petway boy, who is terribly feminine, and crochets his own
silk ties, Tony says. I don't approve of the seniors at all, and both
Roxanne and I are worried over the way Helena Kirby, Belle's sister,
will insist on talking to the Idol when we come out of church. We both
know how important it is for a great man to have lady friends that are
great enough to appreciate him.
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