er was tired of praising them up to the skies, to mortify the rest
of us into good behavior. She was the wonder for the girls' side and he
for the boys',--two copies that we were to sing up to. I think they were
a little proud of the distinction. They were kind of brought together by
it, so that they did not see any harm at all in singing out of the same
note-book."

"I suppose not," said Jerusha.

"Well, there was one girl in the school,--I dare say she _was_ a
giggling, mischief-making thing, for everybody said so--"

"Is she living now?" I asked.

"Yes, indeed."

"Does _she_ sing now?" asked Jerusha.

"Well,--not much."

"Then," said I, "she must be married, too."

"No, she is not," said Aunt Clara, with a plaintive and very positive
emphasis on the negative particle,--"no, she is not."

"Then why does she not sing?" I asked.

"Nobody will look over the same note-book with her," said Jerusha.

"O, you girls may have your own fun now," said Aunt Clara. "You will see
the world with a sadder face by and by."

"Not if we look at it through your spectacles, aunty," I answered.

"Dear me; well, the Lord _has_ been kind, to me," said Aunt Clara, "if I
am a spinster still. But we must make haste. The old folks are coming
back."

"Old folks!" I thought, and Aunt Clara is older than either of them.
Father stopped and gave an ugly weed a whack with his cane. Then he
stooped and rooted it up, Sabbath-day though it was. I presume he
considered it an ox in a pit, for the moment.

Aunt Clara continued:--"The same tune you were at this afternoon used to
be a great favorite in our school. It's as old as the hills. I wonder if
Israel did not let out his voice in it! And Sally, she wouldn't be
behind _him_, I warrant you."

Jerusha and I exchanged glances.

"It happened, one evening,--and that's what I was laughing at this
afternoon. You see, the singing-master, if the music was not going to
suit him, would pull the class straight up in the middle of it, and make
them begin again. The giggling girl that I was speaking of, she was
always fuller of her own nonsense than of learning. This particular
evening she was tempted of the Evil One to alter the words to her own
purposes, just for the confusion of those close to her; and a dreadful
mess she would get them into. It was wrong, very wrong indeed," Aunt
Clara added, with a face that was meant to be serious, while her voice
laughed, in spite of her.

"On this even