the mischief you can think of, and that will give me a headache; and
then you will be cross and rude, and that will give me great, deep lines
in the forehead; and last of all, you will do vulgar things, that will
make my mouth get into the 'don't' shape, which is so ugly, you know;
and, by and by, when I look at myself in the glass, I shall find myself
turned into a grey-headed old woman, and I shall say, 'Sissy gave me
those wrinkles between my eyes, I always had to frown at her so;' and
then, 'Those ugly lines by my mouth came when Lottie vexed me so.' What
a funny thing it will be to have to remember you in that way when you
are grown-up people!"

Of course, we did not like this way of taking it for granted that we
were rude, troublesome children, yet there was a funny look in Miss
Grant's eyes that seemed as if she didn't really mean what she said. And
the end of it all was that we made a compact, as she called it, that we
would be ever so good-tempered, and then she and we would have the
happiest time together that you can fancy.

And I think it all came true. Thanks to our papas and mammas, we were
not quite the rude children we might have been. They had saved us ever
so much trouble, and ever so many tears, by teaching us that hardest
lesson "do as you are told," before we were old enough to understand its
difficulty. And Miss Grant was always so bright and happy that she
scarcely ever let us suspect, even in the naughtiest times, that we were
"making the lines come." Out of doors she was the merriest among us, and
grandmamma would often say to Lottie that she was ever so much older
than Miss Grant, because she would walk soberly about with a book, while
Miss Grant was having all sorts of fun with the boys. At last she, too,
caught the infection, and then we all had the merriest romps together!
How well I remember those early summer days, and the luxury of flowers