sunlight streamed in across the hall, giving a cheery greeting.

On the rug sat Pompey, the cat, his fine coat sleek and glossy, and his
white bosom as pure as much washing could make it. His paws were snugly
tucked in, and he purred softly to himself as if he knew that it was
nearly time for the pupils to arrive, and remembered that the little
girls had been very fond of him.

In the cheery sitting-room, which was used as a schoolroom, sat Aunt
Charlotte Grayson, looking over some books which lay upon the table.

Her soft gray gown and broad lace collar were most becoming, and she
looked every inch the gentlewoman that she really was. She had once been
Mrs. Dainty's governess, and now, as mistress of a thriving private
school, she was independent and happy. The class was not a large one,
but the little pupils belonged to families who were well able to pay
generously for fine instruction, and her home at the stone cottage was a
loving gift from Mr. and Mrs. Dainty. Mrs. Grayson had permitted
Dorothy and Nancy to call her "Aunt Charlotte," and now it had become
the loving title by which all her pupils addressed her.

She was eager to have her little class assemble, and, wondering if they
were late, she looked at her watch.

"Quarter of nine," she said, and as if he understood what she had said,
Pompey blinked up at the tall clock, yawned, and looked at the door.

The sound of merry voices made him prick up his ears. A moment more, and
Dorothy and Nancy, Mollie and Flossie, Nina and Jeanette Earl ran up the
steps and in at the open door. Pompey received his usual number of