r prose. Now
for the first composition. I am going to ask all the new students to
write a letter giving some description of the town and a hint of the
school life."

"Shall I have to be myself?" asked Rebecca.

"What do you mean?"

"A letter from Rebecca Randall to her sister Hannah at Sunnybrook Farm,
or to her aunt Jane at the brick house, Riverboro, is so dull and
stupid, if it is a real letter; but if I could make believe I was a
different girl altogether, and write to somebody who would be sure to
understand everything I said, I could make it nicer."

"Very well; I think that's a delightful plan," said Miss Maxwell; "and
whom will you suppose yourself to be?"

"I like heiresses very much," replied Rebecca contemplatively. "Of
course I never saw one, but interesting things are always happening to
heiresses, especially to the golden-haired kind. My heiress wouldn't be
vain and haughty like the wicked sisters in Cinderella; she would be
noble and generous. She would give up a grand school in Boston because
she wanted to come here where her father lived when he was a boy, long
before he made his fortune. The father is dead now, and she has a
guardian, the best and kindest man in the world; he is rather old of
course, and sometimes very quiet and grave, but sometimes when he is
happy, he is full of fun, and then Evelyn is not afraid of him. Yes,
the girl shall be called Evelyn Abercrombie, and her guardian's name
shall be Mr. Adam Ladd."

"Do you know Mr. Ladd?" asked Miss Maxwell in surprise.

"Yes, he's my very best friend," cried Rebecca delightedly. "Do you
know him too?"

"Oh, yes; he is a trustee of these schools, you know, and often comes
here. But if I let you 'suppose' any more, you will tell me your whole
letter and then I shall lose a pleasant surprise."

What Rebecca thought of Miss Maxwell we already know; how the teacher
regarded the pupil may be gathered from the following letter written
two or three months later.

Wareham, December 1st

My Dear Father,--As you well know, I have not always been an
enthusiast on the subject of teaching. The task of cramming
knowledge into these self-sufficient, inefficient youngsters
of both sexes discourages me at times. The more stupid they
are, the less they are aware of it. If my department were
geography or mathematics, I believe I should feel that I was
accomplishing something, for in those branches application
an