ect "that he was in heaven any time if he could jest lay a boy
out flat"! And there was a place by Moses, but he was very much of a fop
just then, owing to a new "second-hand" coat, and might make scathing
allusions to Patsy's abbreviated swallow-tail.

But a pull at my skirt and a whisper from the boy decided me.

"Please can't I set aside o' you, Miss Kate?"

"But, Patsy, the fun of it is I never do sit."

"Why, I thought teachers never done nothin' but set!"

"You don't know much about little boys and girls, that's sure! Well,
suppose you put your chair in front and close to me. Here is Maggie
Bruce on one side. She is a real little Kindergarten mother, and will
show you just how to do everything. Won't you, Maggie?"

We had our morning hymn and our familiar talk, in which we always
"outlined the policy" of the new day; for the children were apt to be
angelic and receptive at nine o'clock in the morning, the unwillingness
of the spirit and weakness of the flesh seldom overtaking them till an
hour or so later. It chanced to be a beautiful day, for Helen and I were
both happy and well, our volunteer helpers were daily growing more
zealous and efficient, and there was no tragedy in the immediate
foreground.

In one of the morning songs, when Paulina went into the circle and threw
good-morning kisses to the rest, she wafted a dozen of them to the
ceiling, a proceeding I could not understand.

"Why did you throw so many of your kisses up in the air, dear?" I asked,
as she ran back to my side.

"Them was good-mornings to Johnny Cass, so 't he wouldn't feel
lonesome," she explained; and the tender bit of remembrance was followed
out by the children for days afterward. Was it not enough to put us in a
gentle humor?

Patsy was not equal to the marching when, later on, the Lilliputian army
formed itself in line and kept step to the music of a lively tune, and
he was far too shy on the first day to join in the play, though he
watched the game of the Butterfly with intense interest from his nook by
the piano.

After the tiny worm had wriggled itself realistically into a cocoon it
went to sleep; and after a moment of dramatic silence, the little one
chosen for the butterfly would separate herself from the still cocoon
and fly about the circle, sipping mimic honey from the child-flowers.

To see Carlotty Griggs "being a butterfly," with utter intensity of joy
and singleness of purpose, was a sight to be remembered. F