daughter was treated fairly.

Monday morning came. Kyzie's courage had revived. Eddo would be kept at
home; Lucy and Bab had been informed that they were not to cut paper
dolls, though they might write on their slates. All that they thought of
just now, the dear "little two," was of dressing to "look exactly
alike." As Bab had learned once for all that her hair would not curl,
she spent half an hour that morning braiding her auntie's ringlets down
her back, and tying the cue with a pink ribbon like her own. But for all
the little barber could do the flaxen cue would not lie flat. It was an
old story, but very provoking.

"Oh dear," wailed Lucy, "'most school-time and my hair is all _over_ my
head!"

It did look wild. You could almost fancy it was angry because it had
not been allowed to curl after its own graceful fashion.

The "little two" started off in good season, hoping not to be seen by
Eddo; but he espied them from the window, and they heard him calling
till his baby voice was lost in the distance:--

"You ought to not leave me! You ought to not leave m-e-e!"

"He wants to go everywhere big people go."

"Yes," responded Bab. "Such babies think they are as old as anybody. Oh,
see that Mexican dog, how straight his tail stands up!"

"Like your hair," sighed Lucy. "If my hair would only be straight like
that!"

And neither of them smiled at this droll remark.

"But there's one thing we must remember, Bab. I'm glad I thought of it.
We must say, 'Miss' to Kyzie."

"Miss what?"

"Miss Dunlee. If we forget it, she'll feel dreadfully." And then they
began to hum a tune and keep step to the music. They often did this as
they walked.

Kyzie had gone on before them. Her father was with her, but she had the
key in her hand and opened the schoolhouse door. They walked in
together, and Kyzie locked the door behind them, for several children
were waiting about who must not enter till the bell rang.

The schoolhouse floor was very clean; the new teacher herself had swept
it. On the walls were large wreaths of holly, which had been left over
from last Christmas, when the Sunday-school had had a celebration here.
At one end of the room was a raised platform with a large desk on it.
On the wall over the desk was a motto made of red pepper berries, only
the words were so close together that you could not make them out unless
you knew beforehand what they were.

"That means, 'Christ is risen,'" explained Kyzie. "It