ing to put on her hat and
present herself at the printer's in the character of a young person in
search of an elderly lady."

Delays were dangerous, she had been taught by experience, so she ran
up-stairs at once for her out-door attire, and came down in a few
minutes, drawing on her gloves and looking a trifle ruefully at them.

"They are getting discouragingly white at the seams," she said, "and it
seems almost impossible to keep them sewed up. I shall have to borrow
Aimee's muff. What a blessing it is that the weather is so cold!"

At the bottom of the staircase she met Mollie.

"Phemie is in the parlor, Dolly," she announced, "and she wants to see
you. I don't believe Lady Augusta knows she is here, either, she looks
so dreadfully fluttered."

And when she entered the room, surely enough Phemie jumped up with a
nervous bound from a chair immediately behind the door, and, dropping
her muff and umbrella and two or three other small articles, caught her
in a tremulous embrace, and at once proceeded to bedew her with tears.

"Oh, Dolly!" she lamented, pathetically; "I have come to say good-by;
and, oh! what shall I do without you?"

"Good-by!" said Dolly. "Why, Phemie?"

"Switzerland!" sobbed Phemie. "The--the select seminary at Geneva,
Dolly, where th-that professor of m-music with the lumpy face was."

"Dear me!" Dolly ejaculated. "You don't mean to say you are going there,
Phemie?"

"Yes, I do," answered Euphemia. "Next week, too. And, oh dear, Dolly!"
trying to recover her handkerchief, "if it had been anywhere else
I could have borne it, but that," resignedly, "was the reason mamma
settled on it. She found out how I _loathed_ the very thought of it,
and then she decided immediately. And don't you remember those mournful
girls, Dolly, who used to walk out like a funeral procession, and how
we used to make fun--at least, how you used to make fun of the lady
principal's best bonnet?"

It will be observed by this that Miss Dorothea Crewe's intercourse with
her pupils had not been as strictly in accordance with her position as
instructress as it had been friendly. She had even gone so far as to set
decorum at defiance, by being at once entertaining and jocular, though
to her credit it must be said that she had worked hard enough for
her modest salary, and had not neglected even the most trivial of her
numerous duties.

She began to console poor Euphemia to the best of her ability, but
Euphemia refused to