Charleston. Grace never failed to point them out to the little northern
girl, and to repeat their names:

"Castle Pinckney," she would say, pointing to the one nearest the city,
and then to the long dark forts at the mouth of the harbor, "Fort
Sumter, and Fort Moultrie."

"Don't stop to tell me the names of those old forts this morning," said
Sylvia. "I know just as much about them now as you do. We shall be late
if we don't hurry."

Miss Patten's house stood in a big garden which ran nearly to the
water's edge. The schoolroom opened on each side to broad piazzas, and
there was always the pleasant fragrance of flowers in the big airy room.
Sylvia was sure that no one could be more beautiful than Miss Patten.
"She looks just like one of the ladies in your 'Godey's Magazine,' "she
had told her mother, on returning home from her first day at school.

And with her pretty soft black curls, her rosy cheeks and pleasant
voice, no one could imagine a more desirable teacher than Miss Rosalie
Pattten. There were just twelve little girls in her school. There were
never ten, or fourteen. Miss Patten would never engage to take more than
twelve pupils; and the twelve always came. Mrs. Waite, Grace's mother,
had told Mrs. Fulton that Sylvia was very fortunate to attend the
school.

School had opened the previous week, and Sylvia had begun to feel quite
at home with her new schoolmates. The winter before, Mrs. Fulton had
taught her little daughter at home; so this was her first term at Miss
Patten's.