author of this history, or his heirs, executors, administrators, or
assigns, will write another as an appendix. So even though you should
live to be a very old man, like the boy preacher, this history will
always be twenty-three volumes ahead of you. Now, Mary and Rollo, this
will be a hard task (pronounced tawsk) for both of you, and Mary must
remember that Rollo is a very little boy, and must be very patient and
gentle."

The next morning after the one preceding it, Mary began the first
lesson. In the beginning she was so gentle and patient that her mother
went away and cried, because she feared her dear little daughter was
becoming too good for this sinful world, and might soon spread her wings
and fly away and be an angel.

But in the space of a short time, the novelty of the expedition wore
off, and Mary resumed running her temper--which was of the
old-fashioned, low-pressure kind, just forward of the fire-box--on its
old schedule. When she pointed to "A" for the seventh time, and Rollo
said "W," she tore the page out by the roots, hit her little brother
such a whack over the head with the big book that it set his birthday
back six weeks, slapped him twice, and was just going to bite him, when
her mother came in. Mary told her that Rollo had fallen down stairs and
torn his book and raised that dreadful lump on his head. This time
Mary's mother restrained her emotion, and Mary cried. But it was not
because she feared her mother was pining away. Oh, no; it was her
mother's rugged health and virile strength that grieved Mary, as long as
the seance lasted, which was during the entire performance.

That evening Rollo's father taught Rollo his lesson and made Mary sit by
and observe his methods, because, he said, that would be normal