ir intentions, they came down the length of the room with
what Monsieur called a _chasse_ step, and curtsied gracefully hand in
hand.

"Well, at any rate," thought Pennie with a sigh of relief, "_I_ shall
never be able to dance well enough to do that; that's one comfort."

The class lasted two long hours and finished by a march round the room,
the tallest pupil at the head and the shortest bringing up the rear.

"Why," asked Monsieur, "do we begin with the left foot?"

And the old pupil immediately answered:

"Because it is the military rule."

This impressed Pennie a good deal; but afterwards when she found that
Monsieur never failed to ask this before the march began, the effect
wore off, and she even felt equal to answering him herself. But that
was after many lessons had passed; at present everything seemed strange
and difficult, and she was so nervous that she hardly knew her right
foot from her left.

After the marching was over it was time for Monsieur to put his fiddle
into its case, and to say with a graceful sweeping bow, "Good evening,
young ladies!" A joyful sound to Pennie. In a minute she had torn off
her mittens, changed her shoes, and was on her way back to Miss Unity's
house.

"It was much worse than I thought it would be," she said as she sat at
tea with her godmother; "but I sha'n't see any of them again for another
week, that's one good thing."

CHAPTER SEVEN.

PENNIE AT NEARMINSTER.

Miss Unity was surprised to find, as time went on, that Pennie's weekly
visits were neither irksome nor disturbing; there was something about
them, on the contrary, that she really liked. She could not account for
it, but it was certainly true that instead of dreading Thursday she was
glad when it came, and quite sorry when it was over. And then it was
such a comfort to find that Betty, far from making any objection or
difficulty, was pleased to approve of the arrangement, and even when
Pennie, who was very untidy, rumpled the anti-macassars and upset the
precise position of the drawing-room chairs, she neither murmured nor
frowned.

Miss Unity was happier just now than she had been for a long while, for
although her life flowed on from year to year in placid content it had
not much active interest in it. If it had few anxieties it also had few
pleasures, and each day as it came was exactly like the one which had
gone before. But now there was one day, Pennie's day, as Miss Unity
called it in