f in frequent
fits of idleness, both talking and laughing a great deal, and
generally forgetting everything but the pleasure of being together.
They wrote little notes as exercises--Amy in French, Casimer in
English, and each corrected the other's.

All very well for a time; but as the notes increased the corrections
decreased, and at last nothing was said of ungrammatical French or
comical English and the little notes were exchanged in silence.

As Amy took her place that day she looked forlorn, and when her pupil
came her only welcome was a reproachful--

"You are very late, sir."

"It is fifteen of minutes yet to ten clocks," was Casimer's reply, in
his best English.

"Ten o'clock, and leave out 'of' before minutes. How many times must I
tell you that?" said Amy, severely, to cover her first mistake.

"Ah, not many times; soon all goes to finish, and I have none person
to make this charming English go in my so stupide head."

"What will you do then?"

"I _jeter_ myself into the lake."

"Don't be foolish; I'm dull to-day, and want to be cheered up; suicide
isn't a pleasant subject."

"Good! See here, then--a little _plaisanterie_--what you call joke.
Can you will to see it?" and he laid a little pink cocked-hat note on
her lap, looking like a mischievous boy as he did so.

"'Mon Casimer Teblinski;' I see no joke;" and Amy was about to tear it
up, when he caught it from destruction, and holding it out of reach,
said, laughing wickedly,--

"The 'mon' is one abbreviation of 'monsieur,' but you put no
little--how do you say?--period at the end of him; it goes now in
English--_My_ Casimer Teblinski,' and that is of the most charming
address."

Amy colored, but had her return shot ready.

"Don't exult; that was only an oversight, not a deliberate deception
like that you put upon me. It was very wrong and rude, and I shall not
forgive it."

"_Mon Dieu_! where have I gone in sinning! I am a _polisson_, as I say
each day, but not a villain, I swear to you. Say to me that which I
have made of wrong, and I will do penance."

"You told me '_Ma drogha_' was the Polish for 'My pupil,' and let me
call you so a long time; I am wiser now," replied Amy, with great
dignity.

"Who has said stupidities to you, that you doubt me?" and Casimer
assumed an injured look, though his eyes danced with merriment.

"I heard Hoffman singing a Polish song to little Roserl, the burden of
which was, '_Ma drogha, Ma drogha_,' an