s bright--"

"She's big, and awful old, and not half as nice as Nettie!" cried
Claude.

"Indeed, no wonder you stand up for her! You don't even know the
alphabet!"

"Yes, I do!"

"Well, see here!" Ivy picked up his primer.

"I don't want to study--it's vacation!" said Claude, drawing back.

"He may injure his brain by overstudy; such a precocious scholar!"

Nettie pursed out her lip. "Precious scolder herself!" she muttered.

"Come, Claude, I'll give you this big red apple if you say it
correctly," urged Ivy.

"A--B--C," commenced Claude bravely, "A--B--C--Poke Bonnet."

"No, that's D!"

"Well, it looks like a poke," returned Claude.

"How funny! It only needs a bow and string, see?" cried the little
girl.

Claude proceeded with the letters:

"L--M--N--the same old hoop--I ought to know its name."

"O," whispered Nettie.

He turned upon her indignantly--

"I was just going to say O--that's easy! P--Q--R--little wormy
thing--Oh, bother T--U--V--W--let's see, see-saw, X--wizie!" he
concluded triumphantly and with a sudden movement he snatched the apple
from Ivy's lap.

"Come back, you didn't earn it!" commanded Ivy.

"I did, didn't I, Nettie?" he cried, digging his uneven little teeth
into the rosy cheek of the apple.

"Come here at once!"

Ivy reached for her crutches but Nettie, too quick for her, grabbed one
and fled with Claude, while Ivy in a rage threw the other after them.
Across the floor it sailed and hit against the wall with a resounding
clap.

"That's the end of my teaching, and everything I do trying to help
others ends just that way! Now in the story-books the children are
good and no matter how dull, anxious to learn and thankful to be
taught, and the teacher gets some satisfaction out of it! I believe
the only respectable children are in books; the others are imps! Dear
me! I feel like knocking my head against the wall!" She threw herself
upon the sofa and pressed her face against its fir-scented cushions.

Presently soft footsteps were heard. A lady entered the room, and
glancing from the discarded crutch to the couch, crossed the floor and
placed her hand caressingly on the curly mop of hair.

"Are you asleep, Ivy?" she inquired gently.

"No, mamma, just thinking."

"Is there anything I can do? Here is a cool drink."

"No, thank you--yes, I guess I will, I am rather thirsty!" She sat up
and eagerly drank the lemonade.

"Were the children naughty? I tho