r, with his cloak thrown over one shoulder, leading Knut and
Otto by the hand; and behind them the rest of the pupils in single
file--depressed and gloomy, but resigned to whatever Fate might have
in store for them.

Fru Bjornson ran forward, and clasped her children in her arms.

It was a happy meeting; and as she thought the Schoolmaster would
already have gone through all the scolding that was necessary, she
refrained from adding a word more.

"I've got the class together, ma'am," said Herr Badger triumphantly,
"and I'm never going to let it go again! The new School system
commences from to-morrow!"

* * * * *

All the parents agreed that the children had been sufficiently
punished during their wanderings in the forest, and they were
therefore allowed to return to their homes, without anything more
being said on the subject.

The next morning the scholars assembled at the School-house in
excellent time; but most of them unfortunately, having lost their
satchels, were obliged to carry their books and luncheon, wrapped up
in untidy brown paper parcels--which was certainly very mortifying.

"My dear pupils," commenced Herr Badger, as he entered the room and
bowed graciously, "on this auspicious occasion, I wish to call the
Arithmetic class for ten minutes only. We will begin, if you please,
with 'twice one'--repeating it three times over _without a failure_!"

BOBBIE'S TWO SHILLINGS.

A Guinea-Pig Story.

CHAPTER I.

On a sloping lawn, before an old-fashioned, rambling house, Bobbie and
Jerry were playing at nine-pins on a hot day in August.

Under the shade of a cedar tree the under-nurse sat working; and "Aunt
Lucy"--an old lady with snow-white hair, crowned by a black mushroom
hat--was slowly pacing the gravel walk, digging out a weed here and
there with a long spud she carried for the purpose.

Jerry was only playing nine-pins because Bobbie was so fond of them.
She did not care for them herself, for she thought that as she was ten
years old they were too babyish, but Bobbie was only eight, so of
course it was not to be expected of him that he would care for
"grown-up" things.

There was a pleasant buzzing in the air, as old Jeptha Funnel led the
donkey in the mowing machine, up and down the wide lawn, pausing every
now and then to exchange a few words with the children.

"When are you a-coming to tea with us, Master Bobbie, and
Missy?" he enquired, stopping