"Elizabeth! Elizabeth!" called the voice, "Come in at once
to your lessons--Elizabeth! Elizabeth!"

"It's Miss Robinson," whispered the little girl,
twinkling with excitement; then, catching sight of my face,
she said once more with eager insistence, "Who are you?"

"Oh, I'm a ghost!" I cried with conviction, pressing my hands
to my forehead and looking round fearfully.

"Pooh," said the little girl.

It was the last remark I heard her make, for there was a creaking
of approaching boots in the bushes, and seized by a frightful panic I
pulled the gate open with one desperate pull, flung it to behind me,
and fled out and away down the wide, misty fields.

The Gotha Almanach says that the reigning cousin married
the daughter of a Mr. Johnstone, an Englishman, in 1885,
and that in 1886 their only child was born, Elizabeth.
November 20th.--Last night we had ten degrees of frost
(Fahrenheit), and I went out the first thing this morning to see
what had become of the tea-roses, and behold, they were wide awake
and quite cheerful--covered with rime it is true, but anything
but black and shrivelled. Even those in boxes on each side
of the verandah steps were perfectly alive and full of buds,
and one in particular, a Bouquet d'Or, is a mass of buds,
and would flower if it could get the least encouragement.
I am beginning to think that the tenderness of tea-roses