The next day lessons began. Miss Hart and Mrs. Spencer agreed that it would be better for the two little girls to have regular school hours, and Delight was glad to have Marjorie at her lessons with her.

Midge herself was not overpleased at the prospect, but her parents had approved of the plan, and had sent over her school-books.

The play-room was used as a school-room, and a pleasant enough room it was.

When the girls went in, at nine o'clock, it didn't seem a bit like school.

Miss Hart, in a pretty light house-dress, sat in a low rocker by the window. There was nothing suggesting a desk, and on a near-by table were a few books and a big bowl of flowers.

The girls sat where they chose, on the couch or in chairs, and as Midget told her mother afterward, it seemed more like a children's party than school.

"First, let's read a story," said Miss Hart, and Marjorie's eyes opened wider than ever.

"Aren't we going to have school to-day?" she asked.

"Yes, Marjorie; this is school. Here are your books,—we'll each have one."

She gave them each a copy of a pretty looking book, and asked them to open it at a certain page.

Then Miss Hart read aloud a few pages, and the girls followed her in their own books. Then she asked Delight to read, and as she did so, Miss Hart stopped her occasionally to advise her about her manner of reading. But she did this so pleasantly and conversationally that it didn't seem at all like a reading-lesson, although that's really what it was.

Marjorie's turn came next, and by this time she had become so interested in the story, that she began at once, and read so fast, that she went helter-skelter, fairly tumbling over herself in her haste.

"Wait, Marjorie, wait!" cried Miss Hart, laughing at her. "The end of the story will keep; it isn't going to run away. Don't try so hard to catch it!"

Marjorie smiled herself, as she slowed down, and tried to read more as she should.

But Miss Hart had to correct her many times, for Midget was not a good reader, and did not do nearly so well as Delight.

And though Miss Hart's corrections were pleasantly and gently made, she was quite firm about them, and insisted that Marjorie should modulate her voice, and pronounce her words just as she was told.

"What a fine story!" exclaimed Delight, as they finished it.

"Oh, isn't it great!" exclaimed Marjorie; "do you call this book a
'Reader,' Miss Hart?"

"Yes, I call it a Reader. But then I call any book a Reader that I choose to have my pupils read from. This book is named 'Children's Stories From English Literature,' so you see, by using it, we study literature and learn to read at the same time. The one we read to-day, 'The Story of Robin Hood,' is a story you ought to know well, and we will read other versions of it some day. Now, we will talk about it a little."

And then they had a delightful talk about the story they had read, and Miss Hart told them many interesting things concerning it, and the children asked questions; and then Miss Hart had them read certain portions of the story again, and this time she said Marjorie read much better.

"For I understand now," said Midge, "what I'm reading about. And, oh,
Miss Hart, I'm crazy to tell King all about it! He'll just love to play
Robin Hood!"

"Yes," said Miss Hart, "it makes a fine game for out-of-doors. Perhaps some day we'll find a story that we can play indoors, while you poor prisoners are kept captive."

Marjorie gave a little sigh of pleasure. If this was school, it was a very nice kind of school indeed, but she supposed that arithmetic and spelling and all those horrid things were yet to come. And sure enough, Miss Hart's next words brought sorrow to her soul.

"Now, girlies, we'll just have a little fun with arithmetic. I happen to know you both hate it so perhaps if you each hold a kitten in your arm it will cheer your drooping spirits a little."

Marjorie laughed outright at this. Kittens in school were funny indeed!

"Yes," said Miss Hart, laughing with Marjorie, "it's like Mary's little lamb, you know. I never forgave Mary's teacher for turning him out I think kittens in school are lovely. I'll hold one myself."

Then the girls drew nearer to Miss Hart, who had a large pad of paper and a pencil but no book.

And how she did it Marjorie never knew, but she made an example in Partial Payments so interesting, and so clear, that the girls not only understood it, but thought it fun.

Miss Hart said she was Mr. White, and the two children were Mr. Brown and Mr. Green, who each owed her the same sum of money. It was to be paid in partial payments, and the sharp and business-like Mr. White insisted on proper payments and exact interest from the other two gentlemen, who vied with each other to tell first how much was due Mr. White. There was some laughing at first, but the fun changed to earnest, and even the kittens were forgotten while the important debts were being paid.

"Good-bye, arithmetic!" cried Miss Hart, as the problem entirely finished, and thoroughly understood, she tossed the papers aside; "good-bye for to-day! Now, for something pleasanter."

"But that was pleasant, Miss Hart," said Marjorie; "I didn't think arithmetic could ever be pleasant, but it was. How did you make it so?"

"Because I had such pleasant little pupils, I think," said Miss Hart, smiling. "Now for a few calisthenics with open windows."

The windows were flung up, and under Miss Hart's leadership they went through a short gymnastic drill.

"Doesn't that make you feel good?" said Marjorie, all aglow with the exercise, as they closed the windows, and sat down again.

"That's no sort of a drill, really," said Miss Hart; "but it will do for to-day. When we get fairly started, we'll have gymnastics that will be a lot more fun than that. But now for our botany lesson."

"Botany!" cried Midge; "I've never studied that!"

"Nor I," said Delight, "and I haven't any book."

"Here's the book," said Miss Hart, taking a large white daisy from the bowl of flowers on the table.

"How many leaves has it?"

The girls guessed at the number of petals, but neither guessed right. Then they sat down in front of Miss Hart, and she told them all about the pretty blossom.

She broke it apart, telling them the names of petals, sepals, corolla and all the various tiny parts.

The two children looked and listened breathlessly. They could scarcely believe the yellow centre was itself made up of tiny flowers.

It was all so interesting and so wonderful, and, too, so new to them both.

"Is that botany?" said Marjorie, with wide-open eyes.

"Yes; that's my idea of teaching botany. Text-books are so dry and dull,
I think."

"So do I," said Midge; "I looked in a botany book once, and it was awful poky. Tell us more, Miss Hart."

"Not to-day, dearie; it's one o'clock, and school is over for to-day."

"One o'clock!" both girls exclaimed at once; "it can't be!"

But it was, and as they scampered away to make themselves tidy for luncheon, Marjorie said: "Oh! isn't she lovely! Do you always have a governess like that, Delight?"

"No, indeed! My last one was strict and stern, and just heard my lessons out of books. And if I missed a word she scolded fearfully."

"I never saw anybody like Miss Hart! why that kind of school is play."

"Yes, I think so too. And it's lovely to have you here. It's so much more interesting than to have my lessons alone."

"Oh, Miss Hart would make it interesting for anybody, alone or not. But I'll be here for two weeks, I suppose. I don't mind it so much if we have school like that every day."

"And picture puzzles every evening."

"Yes, and kittens all day long!" Marjorie picked up two or three of the furry little balls, that were always under foot, and squeezed them.

At luncheon they gave Mrs. Spencer such a glowing account of their "school" that Miss Hart was quite overcome by their praise.

"It's all because they're such attentive pupils," she said modestly.

"No, it isn't," said Mrs. Spencer. "I knew what a kind and tactful teacher you were before you came. A little bird told me."

"Now how did the bird know that?" said Miss Hart, smiling, and Midget wondered if Miss Hart thought Mrs. Spencer meant a real bird.

Afternoons the governess always had to herself. If she chose to be with the family, she might, but she was not called upon for any duties. So after Midget and Delight had finished their picture puzzles, and had exchanged, and done each other's, time again seemed to hang heavily on their hands.

It was really because they felt imprisoned, rather than any real restraint. Marjorie wanted to run out of doors and play, and Delight didn't know exactly what she did want.

They were allowed to walk on the side piazza, if they chose, but walking up and down a short porch was no fun, and so they fidgeted.

"Let's get up a good, big rousing game," said Midget, "a new one."

"All right," said Delight, "let's."

"Can we go all over the house?"

"Yes, all except the attic and kitchen."

The sick child and his mother had been put in two rooms in the third story. These were shut off from the main part of the house, and were further protected by sheets sprinkled with carbolic acid which hung over them.

The children had been warned to keep as far as possible from these quarters, but the front of the house was at their disposal.

"Let me see," said Midget, who was doing some hard thinking. "I guess we'll play 'Tourists.'"

"How do you play it?"

"I don't know yet. I'm just making it up. We're the tourists, you know; and the house, the whole house in an ocean steamer. First, we must get our wraps and rugs."

Diligent search made havoc in Mrs. Spencer's cupboards, but resulted in a fine array of luggage.

The girls dressed themselves up in Mrs. Spencer's long cats, and Mr. Spencer's caps, tied on with motor-veils, made what they agreed was a fine tourist costume.

In shawl straps they packed afghans, pillows, and such odds and ends as books and pictures, and they filled travellings bags with anything they could find.

Loaded down with their luggage, they went down in the front hall, where
Marjorie said the game must begin.

"Have you ever been on an ocean steamer, Delight?" she asked.

"No; have you?"

"Yes. I haven't sailed on one, you know, but I went on board to see Aunt Margaret sail. So I know how they are. This house isn't built just right; we'll have to pretend a lot. But never mind that."

"No, I don't mind. Now are we getting on board?"

"Yes, here's the gang plank. Now we go upstairs to the main saloon and decks. Be careful, the ship is pitching fearfully!"

Oblivious to the fact that steamers don't usually pitch fearfully while in port, the two travellers staggered up the staircase, tumbling violently from side to side.

"Oh, one of my children has fallen overboard!" cried Delight, as she purposely dropped Goldenrod over the banister.

"Man overboard!" cried Marjorie, promptly. "A thousand dollars reward! Who can save the precious child?" Swiftly changing from a tourist to a common sailor, Marjorie plunged into the waves, and swam after the fast-disappearing Goldenrod. She caught the kitten by its tail, as it was creeping under a sofa, and triumphantly brought it back to the weeping mother.

"Bless you, good man!" cried Delight, her face buried in her handkerchief. "I will reward you with a thousand golden ducats."

"I ask no reward, ma'am; 'twas but my humble duty."

"Say not so! You have rendered me a service untold by gold."

Delight's diction often became a little uncertain, but if it sounded well, that was no matter.

"My cabin is forty-two," said Marjorie, who was once more a tourist, on her way upstairs.

"Here is a steward," said Delight, "he will show us the way."

The steward was invisible, but either of the girls spoke in his voice, as occasion demanded.

"This way, madam," said Midget, as she led Delight to the door of her own room. "This is your stateroom, and I hope it will suit you."

"Is it an outside one?" asked Delight, who had travelled on night boats, though not across the ocean.

"Yes, ma'am. Outside and inside both. Where is your steamer trunk?"

"It will be sent up, I suppose."

"Yes, ma'am. Very good, ma'am. Now, you can be steward to me, Delight."

"Shure. This way, mum. It's Oirish, I am, but me heart is warrum. Shall I carry the baby for ye?"

"Yes," said Midget, giggling at Delight's Irish brogue, which was always funny; "but be careful. The child isn't well." The child was Blackberry, who was dressed in large white muffler of Mrs. Spencer's pinned 'round its neck.

"The saints presarve us, mum! Ye've got the wrong baby! This is a black one, mum!"

"That's all right," said Midget "She's only wearing a black veil, to,—to keep off the cold air."

"Yis, mum. Now, here's yer stateroom, mum, and 'tis the captain's own. He do be givin' it to you, 'cause ye'r such a foine lady."

"Yes, I am;" said Marjorie, complacently. "I'm Lady Daffodil of—of
Bombay."

"Ye look it! And now if ye'll excuse me, mum, I'll go and get the other passengers to rights."

Delight slipped back to her stateroom, and returned with Goldenrod in her arms. She met Marjorie in the hall.

"I think I have met you before," she said, bowing politely.

"Yes," said Marjorie, in a haughty voice, "we met at the Earl's ball. I am Lady Daffodil."

"Ah, yes, I remember you now. I am the Countess of Heliotrope."

"My dear Countess! I'm so glad to see you again. Are you going across?"

"Why, yes, I think I will."

"I think you'll have to, as the ship has already started. Let us go out on deck."

As they were well bundled up, they opened the door and stepped out on the second story balcony. It was not unlike a deck, and they went and stood by the railing.

"The sea is very blue, isn't it?" said Lady Daffodil, looking down at the bare ground with patches of snow here and there.

"Yes, and see the white caps. Oh, we shall have a fine sail. Are you ever seasick?"

"No; never! Are you?"

"No; I have crossed eighty-seven times, so I'm used to it. Did you know there's a case of diphtheria on board?"

"No, is that so?"

"Yes. Somebody in the steerage, I believe. That's why we're stopped at
Quarantine."

This struck both girls so funny that they had to stop and giggle at it.

"My precious Goldenrod!" cried the Countess of Heliotrope, "I fear she will catch it!"

"You'd better have her vaccinated at once. It's a sure cure."

"I will. But let us go inside, the sea-breeze is too strong out here."

The game seemed full of possibilities, and the tourists were still playing it when dinner time came.

So they pretended it was the ship's dining-saloon to which they went, and Mrs. Spencer and Miss Hart were strangers, passengers whom they had not yet met.

The game once explained to Miss Hart, she grasped it at once, and played her part to perfection.

"I should think," she said, finally, "that some such game as this would be a fine way to study geography!"

"Now what can she mean by that?" thought Marjorie.