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The other members of the study club looked at each other in mock despair. “Must we endure the torture?” Babs moaned.

“Get it over with as soon as you possibly can, if it must be done,” Margaret pleaded.

Virginia interposed. “Girls, how dreadful of you! It might be good.”

Betsy solemnly bowed, her hand on her heart. “Lady, I thank you for them kind words,” she said. Then looking about the room, she inquired, “Where’ll be the most effective place to stand?”

“I’d keep real close to the door if I were you,” Barbara suggested.

“Thanks, I will, though I won’t mind at all if you do pelt me with fudge.”

“Indeed, not a piece shall you get unless your poetry pleases us,” threatened Margaret.

Babs hastened to add, “I choose Betsy’s portion for it’s a foregone conclusion that she won’t get any.”

“Silence, young ladies, IF you please.” This in exact imitation of Miss King’s voice and manner. Then making another elaborate bow, Betsy began to read:

“There is a young lady named Virg.

Who said Life is surely a scourge.