est geography. But if I were to play I was Christopher Columbus, I
should have to _play_ I liked it, because he must have liked geography
very much indeed, you know. So then it might be easier, don't you think
so?"

"Ye-es," said Brighteyes, doubtfully. "It would be easier for geography,
certainly. But I have my arithmetic to study, and nobody could ever have
liked arithmetic, Nibble."

"You might be Mr. Colburn," suggested Nibble. "I suppose he must have
liked it, or he would not have written so much about it."

"Well, I will try," said Brighteyes; "though I don't think Mr. Colburn
is half as nice as Christopher Columbus. But if he had been very nice,
he would not have written arithmetic books, so it can't be helped, I
suppose."

[Illustration]

By this time they had reached the school-room, and Nibble, sitting down
by the big table and opening his atlas, began, in a loud voice: "O King
of Spain, let me inform your Majesty that Alabama is bounded on the
north by Tennessee, on the east by Georgia, on the"--

"But, Nibble! I Mean Christopher!" interrupted Mr. Colburn, in a
piteous tone. "How can I do anything if you study out loud?"

"Oh dear!" said the great discoverer, rather impatiently. "Well, go
ahead, Mr. Colburn, and write your book, while I go on a new voyage of
discovery. Let us see which will finish first."

And now, seeing that the mice were settling down to their books in good
earnest, I turned my attention to the nursery, where I rightly judged
that I should find the three younger mice.

[Illustration]

Well, to be sure, what fine sport they were having, those three little
things! they had evidently been washing the dolls' clothes, for small
clothes-lines of string were all about the room, and Downy's pinafore
looked as if it had been in the tub: but now the wash was all hung out,
and the mice were "playing wind," as they called it: that is to say,
they were running to and fro, puffing out their little fat cheeks, and
blowing at the clothes with might and main, in the hope of making them
dry sooner.

"I am the North Wind!" said Puff. "Whoop! whoop!"

"I am the South Wind!" cried Fluff.

"And I'm some kind of wind, ivn't I?" asked Downy, who was blowing as
hard as any of them.

"Yes, dear, you are the West Wind; whoop! whoop! whoop!" said Puff, as
she pranced about.

Now presently the door opened, and Mrs. Posset came in, with her basket
of stockings to mend. One of the clothes-lines was d