lroom. Minute Hetty Ferguson begged to be allowed to
do her hair in the dinner-hour. "_Please_, Betty dear," she urged. But
Betty was looking for John and did not heed.

Cyril was there and grumbling. He was pushing a boy who had pushed him,
and pressing his lips together as he pushed, when, all at once, he saw
Betty, and left the field to the other boy.

"You're going to catch it, Betty Bruce!" he whispered. "You'll just see!
I'm going to tell of you when I go home. Teach you to sneak off to
school by yourself."

But Betty's eyes were looking past Cyril, looking for a squarely built
figure in grey.

Cyril drew nearer. "You never washed up the porridge plates," he said.
"I found them in the dresser cupboard. An' the knives an' forks. An'
baby's basin. I'll tell of you."

Then he fell into line and carried his fair pretty face into the
schoolroom, where Miss Sharman patted his cheeks when he went to present
a little bunch of Czar violets to her.

Miss Sharman presided over Class A for grammar upon Mondays and
Thursdays, and Cyril, who was but very weak on adverbs and prepositions,
always gave her a sweet-smelling nosegay to begin the day with.

And Miss Sharman had a very tender spot in her heart for pretty Cyril,
where she had none for scapegrace Betty. She had doctored Cyril for
bruises, had washed his face in her own room and brushed his wavy hair;
had kissed him, and given him cakes, and acid drops, and bananas. And
although these small sweet matters were just between Miss Sharman and
Cyril--their influence might be felt upon grammar days.

Nancy came into school crying--crying noisily. She was rubbing her eyes
with one hand, a moist dirty hand, and leaving her face the worse for
the contact.

The master inquired sternly what was the matter, and called her to his
side. And Nancy told him sobbingly that she "fort she was late, an' now
she wasn't." And he patted her head so kindly that the little maid
lowered her sobs at once and finally let them die away in an occasional
hiccough of sorrow.

Betty came in at last. She had run as far as the store and back again in
search of John Brown--and had found him not. She felt quite certain now
that he was away practising his genius upon some wall in the great
world.

When she came into the schoolroom her face was red with running and
excitement, her hair was rough, and her bonnet under her arm still, so
oblivious was she to the things of this very every-day and co