The children called it "teasing Miss Jones," and the aboriginal savagery in their behaviour was as unconscious as their daily speech or fashion of eating their food--some instinct inherited, perhaps, from the days when the gentleman with the biggest muscles extracted for his daily amusement the teeth and nails of his less happily muscular friends.
There were many games to be played with Miss Jones.

She always began her morning with a fine show of authority, accumulated, perhaps, during hours of Spartan resolution whilst the rest of the household slept.
"To-morrow I'll see that they do what I tell them--" "Now, children," she would say, "I'm determined to stand no nonsense this morning.

Get out your copy books." Five minutes later would begin: "Oh, Miss Jones, I can't write with this pencil.

May I find a better one ?" Granted permission, Mary's head and large spectacles would disappear inside the schoolroom cupboard.

Soon Jeremy would say very politely: "Miss Jones, I think I know where it is.