lest and most unselfish of all the
native women, and these qualities, transmitted to her son, were the
means of neutralising the evil which he inherited from his father.
After him came Elizabeth Mills, whose pretty little whitey-brown face
was the counterpart of her mother's in expression. Indeed, all of these
little ones inherited in a great degree that sweet pliability of
character for which the Otaheitan women were, and we believe still are,
famous. Last, but not least, sat Charlie Christian at the bottom of the
class.

"Now, hol' up your heads an' pay 'tention," said the teacher, with the
air of authority suitable to her position.

It may be observed here, that Sally's knowledge of schooling and
class-work was derived from Edward Young, who sometimes amused himself
and the children by playing at "school," and even imparted a little
instruction in this way.

"Don't wink, Dan'l McCoy," said Sally, in a voice which was meant to be
very stern, but was laughably sweet.

"P'ease, Missis, Toc's vinkin' too." Thus had Dan learned to express
Thursday's name by his initials.

There was a touch of McCoy senior in this barefaced attempt to divert
attention from himself by criminating another.

"I know that Toc is winking," replied Sally, holding up a finger of
reproof; "but he winks with _both_ eyes, an' you does it with only
_one_, which is naughty. An' when you speaks to me, sir, don't say
vink--say wink."

"Yis, mum," replied little Dan, casting down his eyes with a look of
humility so intense that there was a sudden irruption of dazzling teeth
along the whole class.

"Now, Toc, how much does two and three make?"

"Six," replied Thursday, without a moment's hesitation.

"Oh, you booby!" said Sally.

"P'ease, mum, he ain't booby, him's dux," said Dan.

"But he's a booby for all that, sir. You hold you tongue, Dan'l, an'
tell me what three and two makes."

"P'ease, mum, I can't," answered Dan, folding his hands meekly; "but
p'r'aps Charlie can; he's clebber you know. Won't you ax 'im?"

"Yes, I will ask 'im. Challie, what's three an' two?"

If Charlie had been asked how to square the circle, he could not have
looked more innocently blank, but the desire to please Sally was in him
a sort of passion. Gazing at her intently with reddening face, he made
a desperate guess, and by the merest chance said, "Five."

Sally gave a little shriek of delight, and looked in triumph at Dan.
That little creature, w