Then came the translation lesson, and choosing a fable that would
specially lend itself, she started the class off translating it into an
English fabrication that convulsed both pupils and mistress. Hal, of
course, followed suit, and the merriment grew fast and furious after a
few positively rowdy lessons.

Mademoiselle herself gave the fun away at the governesses' dinner, a
very precise and formal meal, which took place at seven o'clock, to be
followed at eight by the pupils' supper of bread-and-butter with
occasional sardines. She related in broken English what an amusing
book they had to read, repeating a few slang terms, that would
certainly not, under anu circumstances, have been allowed to pass the
lips of the young ladies.

After that it was deemed advisable Lorraine should translate French
alone, and Hal be severely admonished.

Then there was the dreadful affair of the Boys' College. It was not
unusual for them to walk past the school on Sunday afternoons; but it
was only after Lorraine came that a system was instituted by which, if
the four front boys all blew their noses as they passed, it was a
signal that a note, or possibly several, had been slipped under the
loose brick at the school entrance.

Further, it was only Lorraine who could have sent the answers, because
none of the other girls had an uncle often running down for a breath of
sea air, when, of course, he needed his dear niece's company. He was
certainly a very attentive uncle, and a very generous one too, judging
by the Buszard's cakes and De Brei's chocolates, and Miss Walton could