row. She sat down before them in her rocking chair with little
squirming Squealer upon her knees. She gave him a stick of pink candy
to suck, so he would stop squealing while she talked.

"It is very painful," she began slowly, "but I see that I must teach
you some lessons this morning. Sit on your little stools and come to
order for school. Buster, you sit up straight and pay attention. Now
listen every one.

"E--n--e--m--y. Now spell it after me."

"E--n--e--m--y!" piped five shrill little voices.

"Who can tell me what an enemy is?"

Buster waved his paw wildly.

"Something good to eat, Mammy," he answered, smacking his fat little
chops.

"I fear, Buster, that I must make a dunce cap for you," said his
mother, trying hard not to smile.

"An enemy is a trap that pinches off toes," answered Limpy-toes.

"That cross old Norah is an enemy," decided Silver Ears. "But Ruth
Giant is not an enemy."

[Illustration: "That cross old Norah."]