, briskly. "Nan is
quite right: we all dote on children. I should dearly like to be a
governess myself; it would be more play than work; but I am only
wondering who would engage us."

"Who?--oh, anybody!" returned Nan, feeling puzzled by the smothered
satire of Phillis's speech. "Of course we are not certificated, and I
for one could only teach young children; but----" here Phillis
interrupted her:

"Don't think me horrid if I ask you and Dulce some questions, but
do--do answer me just as though I were going through the Catechism: we
are only girls, but we must sift the whole thing thoroughly. Are we
fit for governesses? what can you and I and Dulce teach?"

"Oh, anything!" returned Nan, still more vaguely.

"My dear Nanny, anything won't do. Come, I am really in earnest; I
mean to catechise you both thoroughly."

"Very well," returned Nan, in a resigned voice; but Dulce looked a
little frightened. As for Phillis, she sat erect, with her finger
pointed at them in a severely ominous fashion.

"How about history, Nan? I thought you could never remember dates; you
used to jumble facts in the most marvellous manner. I remember your
insisting that Anne of Cleves was Louis XII.'s second wife; and you
shocked Miss Martin dreadfully by declaring that one of Marlborough's
victories was fought at Cressy."

"I never could remember historical facts," returned Nan, humbly.
"Dulce always did better than I; and so did you, Phillis. When I teach
the children I can have the book before me." But Phillis only shook
her head at this, and went on:

"Dulce was a shade better, but I don't believe she could tell me the
names of the English sovereigns in proper sequence;" but Dulce
disdained to answer. "You were better at arithmetic, Nan. Dulce never
got through her rule of three; but you were not very advanced even at
that. You write a pretty hand, and you used to talk French very
fluently."

"Oh, I have forgotten my French!" exclaimed Nan, in a panic-stricken
voice. "Dulce, don't you remember me quite settled to talk in French
over our work three times a week, and we have always forgotten it; and
we were reading Madame de Sevigne's 'Letters' together, and I found
the book the other day quite covered with dust."

"I hate French," retuned Dulce, rebelliously. "I began German with
Phillis, and like it much better."

"True, but we are only beginners," returned the remorseless Phillis:
"it was very nice, of course, and the Taugenich