pen!"

In spite, however, of these little annoyances, Mary was contented and
happy. She knew that her pupils loved her and that the greater part of
the district were satisfied, so she greeted the widow with her
pleasantest smile, and by always being particularly polite to Sally
Ann, finally overcame their prejudices to a considerable extent.

One afternoon about the middle of July, as Mrs. Perkins was seated by
her front window engaged in "stitching shoes," a very common
employment in some parts of New England, her attention was suddenly
diverted by a tall, stylish-looking young man, who, driving his
handsome horse and buggy under the shadow of the apple-trees, alighted
and entered into conversation with a group of little girls who were
taking their usual recess. Mrs. Perkins's curiosity was roused, and
Sally Ann was called to see who the stranger was. But for a wonder,
Sally Ann didn't know, though she "guessed the hoss was one of the
East Chicopee livery."

"He's talkin' to Liddy Knight," said she, at the same time holding
back the curtain, and stepping aside so as not to be visible herself.

"Try if you can hear what he's sayin," whispered Mrs. Perkins; but a
class of boys in the school-house just then struck into the
multiplication table, thus effectually drowning any thing which Sally
Ann might otherwise have heard.

"I know them children will split their throats. Can't they hold up a
minute," exclaimed Mrs. Perkins, greatly annoyed at being thus
prevented from overhearing a conversation, the nature of which she