lightest elevation
in the tones of her voice was sure to catch his ear; and a warning look
generally proved sufficient to put her on her guard, and check the
rising storm of anger.

There were several reasons why it was--as she often asserted--easier to
be good with him than with Mr. Dinsmore: he was more patient and
sympathizing, less ready to speak with stern authority, though he could
be stern enough when he deemed it necessary. Besides, he was her father,
whom she greatly reverenced and dearly loved, and who had, as she
expressed it, a right to rule her and to punish her when she deserved
it.

One morning, after several very happy weeks at Woodburn, the quiet of
the schoolroom, which had been profound for many minutes, was broken by
a slight exclamation of impatience from Lulu.

Her father, glancing up from the letter he was writing, saw an ominous
frown on her brow, as she bent over her slate, setting down figures upon
it, and quickly erasing them again, with a sort of feverish haste,
shrugging her shoulders fretfully, and pushing her arithmetic peevishly
aside with the free hand.

"Lulu, my daughter," he said, in a quiet tone, "put on your hat and
coat, and take a five-minutes' run on the driveway."

"Just now, papa?" she asked, looking up in surprise.

"Yes, just now. When you think you have been out the specified number of
minutes, you may come back; but I shall not find fault with you if you
are not quite punctual, as you will not have a timepiece with you."

"Thank you, sir," she said, obeying with alacrity.

She came in again presently, with cheeks glowing and eyes sparkling, not
a cloud on her brow.

"Ah! I see you feel better," her father remarked, smiling kindly upon
her; "and I have finished my letter, so have time to talk with you. Max
and Gracie, you may take your turn at a run in the fresh air now."

Donning their outdoor garments, while Lulu took hers off, and put them
in their proper place, they hurried away.

"Bring your slate and book here, daughter," was the next order, in the
kindest of tones, "and let me see what was troubling you so."

"It's these vulgar fractions, papa," she said, giving herself an
impatient shake. "I don't wonder they call them vulgar, for they're so
hateful! I can't understand the rule, and I can't get the examples
right. I wish you wouldn't make me learn them."

"Daughter, daughter!" he said, in grave, reproving accents, "don't give
way to an impatient tempe