a pupil. What if he should laugh at her behind his slate?

Here Barbara and Lucy appeared upon the veranda, holding Edith's new
kitty between them.

"We're going. We'll sit together and cut out paper dolls and eat figs
under the seat," declared Lucy, never doubting that this would be
pleasing news to the young teacher.

Before Kyzie had time to say, "Why, Lucy!" little Eddo ran up the steps
to ask in haste:--

"Where's Lucy going? I fink I'll go too."

Kyzie could bear no more. She ran and hid in the hammock and cried. They
all thought she was to have a sort of play-school; did they? They were
going just for fun. She must talk to mamma. Mamma thought the school was
foolish business; but mamma always knew what ought to be done, and how
to help do it. Or if mamma ever felt puzzled, there was papa to go
to,--papa, who could not possibly make a mistake. Between them they
would see that their eldest daughter was treated fairly.

Monday morning came. Kyzie's courage had revived. Eddo would be kept at
home; Lucy and Bab had been informed that they were not to cut paper
dolls, though they might write on their slates. All that they thought of
just now, the dear "little two," was of dressing to "look exactly
alike." As Bab had learned once for all that her hair would not curl,
she spent half an hour that morning braiding her auntie's ringlets down
her back, and tying the cue with a pink ribbon like her own. But for all
the little barber could do the flaxen cue would not lie flat. It was an