imer, in wooden covers, and having funny, tiny pictures
for each letter of the alphabet, and beside each, a jingle. There were
verses to be learned from the Bible, too. Patience held her primer up
close to her nose and studied very diligently, but Peregrine's eyes
wandered out of the window and toward the blue sky. He was thinking
of a kite he planned to make when school was over.

"Class stand, and recite," Mistress Endicott said suddenly, stopping
the whir of her spinning wheel only a moment to call the children, for
industry and learning had to go on at the same time in those old days
in the Colonies.

At once the boys and girls rose and stood in front of their teacher,
the copper toes of their stout shoes placed exactly on a long crack in
the bare floor. Then they read aloud, while Mistress Endicott's wheel
whirred on. It sounded as if a hive of bees were humming in the
schoolroom, but the good dame could listen and spin at the same time.
She knew very well if a child made a mistake.

Across the room there were some long benches made of logs, split in
two, and with other logs to support them. When the class had finished
reading, they took their places at these benches, the boys to do sums,
and the girls to work on their samplers. Each little Puritan girl had
brought her sewing bag to school, and was working her name, the date
of her birthday, and a verse of some kind on a square of canvas, which
made her sampler. Patience was working a very fine sampler indeed. Her
mother had given her some bright crewels that she had brought from
England, and Patience was using them to embroider a basket of flowers
in cross-stitch in one corner of her sampler. Patience bent low over
her sewing, until her long flaxen braids almost touched the floor. At
last, though, she looked up.

Where was Peregrine, she wondered? He was not on the bench with the
other boys. At last Patience saw her brother. Oh, dear, how disgraced
she felt! Peregrine had not learned his lesson well, because he had
looked out of the window. He had not recited well, so Mistress
Endicott had put the dunce's cap on his head and he stood in a corner
where all could see him.

But Peregrine's punishment did not last for long. He was soon forgiven
and busy bringing in logs of wood to pile on the fire. Already the
days had a touch of frost in them, and Peregrine's father had sent the
school-mistress a load of wood. This was to pay her for teaching
Patience and Pereg