ven Peter Grey himself could scarcely have
finished all she provided.

Harry had now been several months constantly attending school, where he
became a great favourite with the boys, and a great torment to the
masters, while, for his own part, he liked it twenty times better than
he had expected, because the lessons were tolerably easy to a clever
boy, as he really was, and the games at cricket and foot-ball in the
play-ground put him perfectly wild with joy. Every boy at school seemed
to be his particular friend, and many called him "the holiday-maker,"
because, if ever a holiday was wished for, Harry always became leader in
the scheme. The last morning of Peter Grey's appearing at school, he got
the name of "the copper captain," because Mr. Lexicon having fined him
half-a-crown, for not knowing one of his lessons, he brought the whole
sum in half-pence, carrying them in his hat, and gravely counting them
all out, with such a pains-taking, good-boy look, that any one, to see
him, would have supposed he was quite penitent and sorry for his
misconduct; but no sooner had he finished the task and ranged all the
half-pence neatly in rows along Mr. Lexicon's desk, than he was desired,
in a voice of thunder, to leave the room instantly, and never to return,
which accordingly he never did, having started next day on the top of
the coach for Portsmouth, and the last peep Harry got of him, he was
buying a perfect mountain of gingerbread out of an old man's basket, to
eat by the way.

Meantime Laura had lessons from a regular day-governess, who came every
morning at seven, and never disappeared till four in the afternoon, so,
as Mrs. Crabtree remarked, "the puir thing was perfectly deaved wi'
edication," but she made such rapid progress, that uncle David said it
would be difficult to decide whether she was growing fastest in body or
in mind. Laura seemed born to be under the tuition of none but
ill-tempered people, and Madame Pirouette appeared in a constant state
of irritability. During the music-lessons, she sat close to the piano,
with a pair of sharp-pointed scissors in her hand, and whenever Laura
played a wrong note, she stuck their points into the offending finger,
saying sometimes in an angry foreign accent, "put your toe upon 'dis
note! I tell you, put your toe upon 'dis note!"

"My finger, I suppose you mean?" asked Laura, trying not to laugh.

"Ah! fingare and toe! dat is all one! Speak not a word! take hold of
you