gaged to teach
Harriet to make wax flowers. Lucy was up-stairs, writing to Major
Hazleby; and Helen was sitting in the school-room, where Elizabeth was
teaching the children. Little Winifred had just finished her lessons,
and was skipping off in high glee with her medal round her neck, to
tell her mamma that she had gained four good marks. Dora was perched
on a high stool, at Elizabeth's desk, with a broadly ruled paper before
her, on the top of which the words, 'My dear Horace, St. Austin's
Church was consecrated yesterday,' were to be seen in fair round hand.
No more was visible, for the little girl laughingly laid down her rosy
cheek, and all her light wavy curls, flat upon the letter, as Anne
advanced and made a stealthy attempt to profit by the intelligence she
was sending to her brother. Edward was standing by Elizabeth, reading
Mrs. Trimmer's Fabulous Histories, for, though five years old, he made
very slow progress in English literature, being more backward in
learning to read than any of the others had been, excepting Helen. He
did not like the trouble of spelling, and was in the habit of guessing
at every word he did not know; and on his very composedly calling old
Joe the gardener, 'the old gander,' Anne burst into an irrepressible
giggle, and Helen, sedate as she was, could not help following her
example. They had just composed themselves, when Edward made another
blunder, which set them off again, and Elizabeth, who when alone with
the children, could bear anything with becoming gravity, also gave way.

Edward, finding that he was diverting them, began to make absurd
mistakes on purpose, so that Elizabeth was forced to call him to order.
Anne thought it best to leave the room, and Helen followed her, saying,
'We had better leave Lizzie to manage him by herself; she always does
better without me.'

'You have never shewn me your drawings, Helen,' said Anne; 'I should
like very much to see them, if you will let me.'

'If you please,' said Helen. 'Will you come up to my room? I keep all
my own things there, out of the way of the critics.'

'What critics?' inquired Anne.

'Lizzie, to be sure, and Papa,' said Helen; 'I think them the severest
people I know.'

'Do you indeed!' said Anne.

'Do not you?' said Helen; 'does not Lizzie say the sharpest things
possible? I am sure she does to me, and she never likes anything I do.
If there is any little fault in it, she and Papa always look at that,
ra