small task to correct nine years of bad grammar, and I never succeeded
in doing it. Alas! the time was all too short.

It was Patsy who sorted the wools and threaded the needles, and set
right the sewing-cards of the babies; and only the initiated can
comprehend the labyrinthine maze into which an energetic three-year-old
can transform a bit of sewing. It was he who fished the needles from the
cracks in the floor, rubbed the blackboards, and scrubbed the slates,
talking busily the while.

"Jiminy! (I take that back.) Miss Kate, we can't let Jimmy Buck have no
more needles; he sows 'em thick as seed round his chair. Now, now jis'
look yere! Ef that Battles chap hain't scratched the hull top of this
table with a buzzer! I'd lam him good ef I was you, I would."

"Do you think our Kindergarten would be the pleasant place it is if I
whipped little boys every day?"

"No-o-o! But there is times"--

"Yes, I know, Patsy, but I have never found them."

"Jim's stayin' out nights, this week," said he one day, "'nd I hez to
stay along o' Mis' Kennett till nine o'clock."

"Why, I thought Jim always stayed at home in the evening."

"Yes, he allers used ter; but he's busy now lookin' up a girl, don't yer
know."