had a
pair of ears which heard altogether too much, and when we said
anything which was not remarkably wise, he had a habit of crying
"Pooh!" which was very provoking. We went hand in hand, Fel and I, and
counted the steps we took, or hopped on one foot like lame ducklings,
and "that great Gust" would look on and laugh. I had so much to say to
Fel that I couldn't help talking, though I knew he was there to hear.

"I'd like to be a _skurrel_ once," said I.

"O, pooh!" said Gust.

"I'd like to be 'em _once_, Gust Allen. I'd like to be 'em long enough
to know how they feel. Once there was a boy, and he was turned into a
skurrel, and his name was Bunny."

"_That's_ a whopper, miss!"

Such were "the tricks and the manners" of Fel's disagreeable brother.
Do you wonder I called him a trial? But Fel didn't mind him much, for
he was good to her, and never laughed at her as he did at me. She was
"a lady-child," and her disposition was much sweeter than mine.

Mr. Clifford, who was fitting for college then, used to pass us with
a book under his arm and pat our sun-bonnets, and call us "Juno's
swans." We had never seen any swans, and did not know who Juno was,
but presumed it was some old woman who kept geese and hens.

When we reached the school-house we were sure of a good time, for the
teacher lent us an old blunt penknife, with pretty red stones on the
back, the like of which was never seen before in this world. Nobody
else ever asked for the knife but us two little tots, and we went up
hand in hand; and I spoke the words, while Fel asked with her eyes.
Miss Lee smiled blandly, and said,--

"Well, now, the best one may have the knife a little while."

That always happened to be Fel; but it was all the same, for we sat
together, and she let me play with it "more than my half." We were
really very forward children, and learned so fast that Miss Lee says
now she was very proud of us. I think she was, for I remember how she
showed us off before the committee men. We could soon read in the
Second Reader, and Fel always cried about the poor blind fiddler to
whom Billy gave his cake, and I poked her with my elbow to make her
stop. For my part I was apt to giggle aloud when we came to the story
of the two silly cats, and the cheese, and the monkey.

Ah, that dear old school-house, where we studied the "Primary's
Joggerphy," and saw by the map that some countries are yellow and some
fire-red, and the rivers no bigger than cr