t is now four o'clock," said Miss Tredgold. "At five tea is served. As
the evening is so fine, I have ordered it to be laid under the cedar-tree
on the lawn. For the next hour I expect close attention to lessons. I
shall not stay in the room, but you, Verena, are monitress during my
absence. Please understand that I expect honor. Honor requires that you
should study, and that you should be silent. Here are your books. Prepare
the lessons I shall require you to know to-morrow morning. Those girls
who have not made due preparation will enter into Punishment Land."

"What in the world is that?" burst from the lips of the irrepressible
Briar.

"Don't ask me," answered Miss Tredgold. "I hope you may never have a
personal acquaintance with that gloomy country. Now farewell. For an hour
fix your attention on your tasks; and adieu."

Never before had the Dale girls found themselves in such a quandary. For
a whole long hour they were prohibited by a code of honor from speaking.
They were all just bursting with desire to launch forth in a fiery
torrent, but they must none of them utter a single word. Verena, as
monitress, could not encourage rebellion. There are some things that even
untrained girls, provided they are ladies, understand by intuition. The
Dales were ladies by birth. Their home had belonged to their father's
family for generations. There was a time in the past when to be a Dale of
The Dales meant to be rich, honored, and respected. But, alas! the Dales,
like many other old families, had gone under. Money had failed; purses
had become empty; lands had been sold; the house had dwindled down to its
present shabby dimensions; and if Miss Tredgold had not appeared on the
scene, there would have been little chance of Mr. Dale's ten daughters
ever taking the position to which their birth entitled them. But there
are some things which an ancient race confers. _Noblesse oblige_, for one
thing. These girls were naughty, rebellious, and angry; their hearts were
very sore; their silken chains seemed at this moment to assume the
strength of iron fetters; but during the hour that was before them they
would not disobey Miss Tredgold. Accordingly their dreary books were
opened. Oh, how ugly and dull they looked!

"What does it matter whether a girl knows how to spell, and what happened
long, long ago in the history-books?" thought Briar.

"Aunt Sophia was downright horrid about poor Nancy," was Pauline's angry
thought. "Oh! mu