the room itself looked most inviting, with its neat matting, its
windows draped with snow-white muslin, its comfortable chairs, and
pretty rosewood desks.

Within this pleasant apartment sat Miss Day with her pupils, six
in number. She was giving a lesson to Enna, the youngest, the
spoiled darling of the family, the pet and plaything of both
father and mother. It was always a trying task to both teacher and
scholar, for Enna was very wilful, and her teacher's patience by
no means inexhaustible.

"There!" exclaimed Miss Day, shutting the book and giving it an
impatient toss on to the desk; "go, for I might as well try to
teach old Bruno. I presume he would learn about as fast."

And Enna walked away with a pout on her pretty face, muttering
that she would "tell mamma."

"Young ladies and gentlemen," said Miss Day, looking at her watch,
"I shall leave you to your studies for an hour; at the end of
which time I shall return to hear your recitations, when those who
have attended properly to their duties will be permitted to ride
out with me to visit the fair."

"Oh! that will be jolly!" exclaimed Arthur, a bright-eyed,
mischief-loving boy of ten.

"Hush!" said Miss Day sternly; "let me hear no more such
exclamations; and remember that you will not go unless your
lessons are thoroughly learned. Louise and Lora," addressing two