“Now I’ll give you a word to spell,” said Willie; “I bet none of you can spell it right.”

“Don’t say bet, my dear,” said his mother.  “It is not a good word to use.  Beside, you are a teacher now, you know.”

“The boys at school all say bet, mother,” answered Willie.  “I don’t see any hurt in it.”

“But do they really bet?” asked his father.

“O, no, indeed, sir!  It is only a habit they have of saying so.”

“It is a low expression,” said his mother.  “I wish you wouldn’t use it.”

“Well, I won’t, mother, when I can think of it.  But I’ll give you the word.  It is Constantinople.”

“It is a long word,” said mamma.  “But I will try it;” and the lady’s eyes twinkled as she began, “C-o-n, Con; s-t-a-n, Constan!”

“Stop! please stop, mother!” shouted Willie, laughing heartily.  “You know it; let me try father?”

“No, try me,” said Nelly; “try me once!”

“Well, I will.  Spell Con.”

“C-o-n, Con,” repeated Nelly slowly, looking steadily in her cousin’s face.

“That is right; stan.”

“S-t-a-n,” said Nelly.

“Yes; now spell ti,” added Willie.

“T-i, ti.”

“No,” said the boy, shaking his head solemnly.

“T-y,” again tried the little girl.

“No,” said Willie still more seriously.

“T-i-e,” shouted Frankie.

“No,” again repeated Willie.

“N-o, no,” said his father.

Nelly and her cousin looked astonished.

“O father!  That wasn’t fair,” cried Willie.  “They wouldn’t have spelt it at all.”

“When I went to school,” said his father, laughing, “any body in the class had a right to spell the word if the others missed it.”

When the travellers stopped for dinner, it rained so hard, that Mr. Gray said he didn’t know as they would be able to go on.  They were in a small, poorly-furnished tavern; and it did not look as if they would have a very good time if they staid.

“We are quite comfortable behind,” said the lady; “but it must be very bad for you.”

“The boot comes up so high that it keeps the rain out, except from my face,” said Mr. Gray.  “Perhaps I can manage in some way to carry an umbrella.”

“That would be too hard,” replied the lady.  “If you think it best, I am willing to stay.”

After waiting at the tavern about two hours for the horses to rest, Mr. Gray told the children to make haste and put on their clothes, as the carriage was coming to the door.  They did not know, until then, whether they were to go or stay.

“Do you think it best to go?” asked the lady.  “It is raining so hard, I am afraid you will be very wet.”

“O, look at the carriage, papa!” shouted Frankie, as it drove past the window.

“I found a nice leather curtain in the box,” said the gentleman, “which will shield me entirely.”

“What a pity you did not find it this morning!” said Willie.

When they were seated in the carriage, they rode for nearly a mile before there was much said by the children.  The new curtain proved a good screen from the rain, so that Mr. Gray was able to enjoy the ride as well as the rest of the party.

Frankie had been watching the drops as they fell from the lower edge of the curtain upon the leather boot; at last he said, “It seems as if we were in the ark.”

“Why?” asked his mother, with a smile.

“Because ­because it seems as if we were out in the rain, with waters all around us; but we are safe in here, and nothing can harm us.”

“What shall we do now?” asked Willie.  “Play school again?  I call it real good fun.”

“Let us sing,” said Nelly.

“So we will; so we will!” and they began the sweet hymn commencing, ­

    “Jesus, thou heavenly stranger,
       Who dwelt in mortal clay! 
     Thy cradle was a manger,
       Thy softest bed was hay.”

“O, mamma!” cried Frankie, when they had finished the tune, “can I read the pretty verses on my handkerchief?”

“Yes, dear, I should like to hear them,” said mamma.

This was Sally’s birthday present, which he had kept nicely folded in his coat pocket.  I have already described to you the picture, which was of a little boy calling his sister to take a ride.  Frankie could read now quite well, though he was obliged to pronounce the words slowly, once in a while stopping to spell one to himself.  He began, ­

    “The coach is ready, sister; run,
     And put your gloves and bonnet on;
     It is about a week ago
     Our parents promised us, you know,
     If we were good, that we, to-day,
     Should have the coach and ride away. 
     Our cousins, too, are all at home;
     How glad they’ll be to see us come! 
     And they, such lovely girls and boys,
     Will have so many pretty toys! 
     And we shall have the sweetest ride,
     Through trees along the river side! 
     Come, sister; come, make no delay! 
     ’Tis time for us to start away. 
     What ails you, Mary? ar’n’t you well? 
     What makes you cry so? sister, tell!”
    “Harry, I can’t; don’t ask me why;
     And yet I must ­I’ve told a lie! 
     And here shut up I’m doomed to stay,
     And mourn and weep the livelong day. 
     I shall not dare my face to show,
     Nor join the children’s plays, you know;
     They’ll see my tears, and then inquire
     What I have done ­and call me liar. 
     And, Harry, I’m afraid that you
     And Harriet will hate me too. 
     But what is worst of all, mamma
     Don’t speak to me, nor does papa;
     Not once upon me have they smiled,
     Since I was such a wicked child. 
     O, it will break my heart, I’m sure! 
     I never told a lie before,
     And never, never will again,
     If I their pardon can obtain. 
     Go ­it is time that you were gone,
     And leave me here to cry alone.”

Nelly sighed two or three times while her little cousin was reading; and when he had finished, she said, “I’m glad I don’t tell lies now.  I didn’t use to know how wicked it was.”

Mrs. Gray bent down and kissed her little niece, and then said, “I am sure, my dear, God will forgive the past, if you ask him, for the sake of his dear Son.”

“I wonder whether her mother let her go to ride,” said Frankie, fixing his eyes on the picture.  “I should think she would, when the little girl was so sorry.”

As no one replied to his remark, he said, presently, “Here is another pretty piece; may I read this too, mamma?”

“Perhaps Nelly would like to read,” said the lady.

“O, yes, aunty,” said the little girl; “may I, Frankie?”

He passed her the handkerchief, though he did not do it very cheerfully.

“Thank you,” said Nelly.  “You can look over with me, if you want to.”  Then she began to read the verses that were underneath the picture of the little girls and the poor beggar: ­

    “Look, sister, see how rich I be! 
     Six cents mamma has given me,
     Because it is a holiday;
     And now I’m going off to play. 
     But let me think:  what shall I buy? 
     A cake ­or else some pretty toy! 
     I’ve wanted long a Jumping Jack. 
     Well, that I’ll buy, and not a cake. 
     But stop, dear sister; who is this? 
     A poor old man! ­how lame he is! 
     How lean he looks, and ragged too! ­
     Give him some dinner, sister, do. 
     Now he will have to go away,
     And beg his dinner every day. 
     I wish I had a dollar now;
     Six cents will buy some dinner, though;
     And as he travels on the road,
     Some biscuits would taste very good;
     And he shall have them ­so I’ll play
     Without a Jumping Jack to-day.”