ta_, but I wouldn't, so I shoved it into the water myself, and
shouted _Carlotta_. That's the name of a girl that goes to my school,
and I like her."

"You say Floretta hemmed your sails," said Mrs. Tiverton.

"Well, I thanked her for that, and I let her go to the launching, and I
let her christen it, but I don't see that I need name it for her," said
Jack, stoutly.

Mrs. Fenton had not heeded what the children were saying. One might have
fancied that she did not hear, although both Floretta and Jack stood
quite near her chair.

A large spool that she had wound with colored silk slipped from her lap,
and rolled toward Floretta.

"Pick it up, dear," Mrs. Paxton said.

"Don't want to," said Floretta.

Mrs. Fenton stooped, and recovered the spool, and, taking her embroidery
frame in her hand, left the piazza, and mounted the stairs to her room.

"Why _were_ you so rude?" said Mrs. Paxton, but Floretta, perching upon
the low railing, began softly humming "Yankee Doodle."

Jack Tiverton, espying a boy that he knew, whistled loudly, and then, as
the other boy turned, ran after him, the two whooping and shouting like
savages.

"It is almost lunch time, Jack!" Mrs. Tiverton cried, and the boy
turned, and waved his hand to show that he heard her.

"Boys aren't apt to forget meal time," muttered old Mr. Cunningham
behind his paper.

True enough, Jack returned in ample time, and was the first at the
table.

Early in the afternoon Dorothy and Nancy went out for a drive with
Romeo.

It was one of those sunny days that tempt nearly every one to ride or
walk.

The mountain roads were rather lonely, and Mrs. Dainty insisted that
whether Dorothy were riding Romeo, or driving in the phaeton, the groom
must ride at a little distance behind her.

There were the lovely, slender birches on either side of the roads,
there were patches of bright green moss upon which the sunlight rested,
there were blackberry vines and woodbine wreathing the low stone walls,
and here and there a mullein raised its stately head from its base of
velvet leaves.

Oh, it seemed like an enchanted country, where new beauties were to be
found on either hand!

"Look!" cried Dorothy, "close beside that mullein is an evening
primrose, and their blossoms are the same color."

Then a tiny chipmunk sprang upon the wall, sat erect, and watched them
for a moment, then ran up the trunk of a slender tree, where from a low
branch he watched until they