ally, in raptures with some
new marvel. The bullocks who drew the carts, soft-eyed, clumsy creatures,
looking, she declared, so "sweet and patient;" the endless varieties of
"sisters," with the wonderful diversity of caps; the chatter, and bustle,
and clatter on the market-days; the queer, quaint figures that passed
their gates on horse and pony back, jogging along with their butter and
cheese and eggs from the mountain farms--all and everything was
interesting and marvellous and entertaining to the last degree.

"I don't know how other children find time to do lessons here," she said
to Sylvia one day. "It is quite difficult to remember just practising and
French, and think what lots of other lessons we did at home, and we
seemed to have much more time."

"Yes," said Sylvia, "and do you know, Molly, I think I liked it better.
Just now at the end of the day I never feel as if I had done anything
nicely and settledly, and I think Ralph feels so too. _He_ is going to
school regularly next month, every day. I wish we were too."

"_I_ don't," said Molly, "and it will be very horrid of you, Sylvia, if
you go putting anything like that into grandmother's head. There now, she
is calling us, and I am not _nearly_ ready. Where _are_ my gloves? Oh, I
cannot find them."

"What did you do with them yesterday when you came in?" said Sylvia. "You
ran down to the lodge to see the soldiers passing; don't you remember,
just when you had half taken off your things?"

"Oh yes, and I believe I left them in my other jacket pocket. Yes, here
they are. There is grandmother calling again. Do run, Sylvia, and tell
her I'm just coming."

Molly was going out alone with grandmother to-day, and having known all
the morning at what time she was to be ready, there was no excuse for
her tardiness.

"My dear child," said grandmother, who, tired of waiting, just then made
her appearance in their room, "what have you been doing? And you don't
look half dressed now. See, your collar is tumbling off. I must really
tell Marcelline never to let you go out without looking you all over."

"It wasn't Marcelline's fault, grandmother dear," said Molly. "I'm so
sorry. I dressed in such a hurry."

"And why in such a hurry?" asked grandmother. "This is not a day on which
you have any lessons."

"No-o," began Molly; but a new thought struck grandmother. "Oh, by the
by, children, where are your letters for your father? I told you I should
take them to the