rls gave Wordsworth's "Lost Love" in a pensive tone,
clasping her hands and bringing out the "O" as if a sudden twinge of
toothache seized her when she ended.

"But she is in her grave, and O,
the difference to me!"

Bab always chose a funny piece, and on this afternoon set them all
laughing by the spirit with which she spoke the droll poem, "Pussy's
Class," which some of my young readers may have read. The "meou" and the
"sptzz" were capital, and when the "fond mamma rubbed her nose," the
children shouted, for Miss Bab made a paw of her hand and ended with an
impromptu purr, which was considered the best imitation ever presented
to an appreciative public. Betty bashfully murmurred "Little White
Lily," swaying to and fro as regularly as if in no other way could the
rhymes be ground out of her memory.

"That is all, I believe. If either of the ladies would like to say a
few words to the children, I should be pleased to have them," said
Teacher, politely, pausing before she dismissed school with a song.

"Please, 'm. I'd like to speak my piece," answered Miss Celia, obeying
a sudden impulse; and, stepping forward with her hat in her hand, she
made a pretty courtesy before she recited Mary Howitt's sweet little
ballad, "Mabel on Midsummer Day."

She looked so young and merry, and used such simple but expressive
gestures, and spoke in such a clear, soft voice that the children sat as
if spell-bound, learning several lessons from this new teacher, whose
performance charmed them from beginning to end, and left a moral which
all could understand and carry away in that last verse,--

"'Tis good to make all duty sweet,
To be alert and kind;
'Tis good, like Littie Mabel,
To have a willing mind."

Of course there was an enthusiastic clapping when Miss Celia sat down,
but even while hands applauded, consciences pricked, and undone tasks,
complaining words and sour faces seemed to rise up reproachfully before
many of the children, as well as their own faults of elocution.

"Now we will sing," said Teacher, and a great clearing of throats
ensued, but before a note could be uttered, the half-open door swung
wide, and Sancho, with Ben's hat on, walked in upon his hind-legs, and
stood with his paws meekly folded, while a voice from the entry sang
rapidly,--

"Benny had a little dog,
His fleece was white as snow,
And everywhere that Benny went,
The dog was sure to go.

He wen