CHAPTER X.

Although Fräulein had charge over the girls’ education, Mr. Asplin reserved to himself the right of superintending their studies and dictating their particular direction. He was so accustomed to training boys for a definite end that he had no patience with the ordinary aimless routine of a girl’s school course, and in the case of his daughters had carefully provided for their different abilities and tastes. Esther was a born student, a clear-headed, hard-thinking girl, who took a delight in wrestling with Latin verbs and in solving problems in Euclid, while she had little or no artistic faculty. He put her through much the same course as his own boys, gave her half an hour’s private lesson on unoccupied afternoons, and cut down the two hours’ practising on the piano to a bare thirty minutes. Esther had pleaded to give up music altogether, on the ground that she had neither love nor skill for this accomplishment, but to this the Vicar would not agree.

“You have already spent much time over it, and have passed the worst of the drudgery; it would be folly to lose all you have learnt,” he said. “You may not wish to perform in public, but there are many other ways in which your music may be useful. In time to come you would be sorry if you could not read an accompaniment to a song, play bright airs to amuse children, or hymn tunes to help in a service. Half an hour a day will keep up what you have learned, and so much time you must manage to spare.”

With Mellicent the case was almost exactly opposite. It was a waste of time trying to teach her mathematics, she had not sufficient brain power to grasp them, and if she succeeded in learning a proposition by heart like a parrot, it was only to collapse into helpless tears and protestations when the letters were altered, and, as it seemed to her, the whole argument changed thereby.

Fräulein protested that it was impossible to teach Mellicent to reason, but the Vicar was loath to give up his pet theory that girls should receive the same hard mental training as their brothers. He declared that if the girl were weak in this direction, it was all the more necessary that she should be trained, and volunteered to take her in hand for half an hour daily to see what could be done. Fräulein accepted this offer with a chuckle of satisfaction, and the Vicar went on with the lessons several weeks, patiently plodding over the same ground without making the least impression on poor Mellicent’s brain, until there came one happy never-to-be-forgotten morning when Algebra and Euclid went spinning up to the ceiling, and he jumped from the table with a roar of helpless laughter.

“Oh, baby! baby! this is past all bearing! We might try for a century, and never get any further. I cannot waste any more time.” Then, seeing the large tears gathering, he framed the pretty face in his hands, and looked at it with a tender smile. “Never mind, darling! there are better things in this world than being clever and learned. You will be our little house-daughter; help mother with her work, and play and sing to father when he is tired in the evening. Work hard at your music, learn how to manage a house, to sew and mend, and cook, and you will have nothing to regret. A woman who can make a home has done more than many scholars.”

So it came to pass that Mellicent added the violin to her accomplishments, and was despatched to her own room to practise exercises, while her elder sister wrestled with problems and equations.

When Peggy Saville arrived, here was a fresh problem, for Fräulein reported that the good child could not add five and six together without tapping them over on her finger; was as ignorant of geography as a little heathen, and had so little ear for music that she could not sing “Rule Britannia” without branching off into “God save the Queen.” But when it came to poetry!--Fräulein held up her hands in admiration. It was absolutely no effort to that child to remember, her eyes seemed to flash down the page, and the lines were her own, and as she repeated them her face shone, and her voice thrilled with such passionate delight that Esther and Mellicent had been known to shed tears at the sound of words which had fallen dead and lifeless from their own lips. And at composition, how original she was! What a relief it was to find so great a contrast to other children! When it was the life of a great man which should be written, Esther and Mellicent began their essays as ninety-nine out of a hundred school-girls would do, with a flat and obvious statement of birth, birth-place, and parentage, but Peggy disdained such commonplace methods, and dashed headlong into the heart of her subject with a high-flown sentiment, or a stirring assertion which at once arrested the reader’s interest. And it was the same with whatever she wrote; she had the power of investing the dullest subject with charm and brightness. Fräulein could not say too much of Peggy’s powers in this direction, and the Vicar’s eye brightened as he listened. He asked eagerly to be allowed to see the girl’s MS. book, and summoned his wife from pastry-making in the kitchen to hear the three or four essays which it contained.

“What do you think of those for a girl of fourteen? There’s a pupil for you! If she were only a boy! Such dash--such spirit--such a gift of words! Do you notice her adjectives? Exaggerated, no doubt, and over-abundant, but so apt, so true, so strong! That child can write: she has the gift. She ought to turn out an author of no mean rank.”

“Oh, dear me! I hope not. I hope she will marry a nice, kind man who will be good to her, and have too much to do looking after her children to waste her time writing stories,” cried Mrs. Asplin, who adored a good novel when she could get hold of one, but harboured a prejudice against all women-authors as strong-minded creatures, who lived in lodgings, and sported short hair, inky fingers, and a pen behind the ear. Mariquita Saville was surely destined for a happier fate. “When a woman can live her own romance, why need she trouble her head about inventing others!”

Her husband looked at her with a quizzical smile.

“Even the happiest life is not all romance, dear. It sometimes seems unbearably prosaic, and then it is a relief to lose oneself in fiction. You can’t deny that! I seem to have a remembrance of seeing someone I know seated in a big chair before this very fire devouring a novel and a Newtown pippin together on more Saturday afternoons than I could number.”

“Tuts!” said his wife, and blushed a rosy red, which made her look ridiculously young and pretty. Saturday afternoon was her holiday-time of the week, and she had not yet outgrown her school-girl love of eating apples as an accompaniment to an interesting book, but how aggravating to be reminded of her weakness just at this moment of all others! “What an inconvenient memory you have,” she said complainingly. “Can’t a poor body indulge in a little innocent recreation without having it brought up against her in argument ever afterwards. And I thought we were talking about Peggy! What is at the bottom of this excitement? I know you have some plan in your head.”

“I mean to see that she reads good books, and only books that will help, and not hinder her progress! The rest will come in time. She must learn before she can teach, have some experience of her own before she can imagine the experiences of others; but writing is Peggy’s gift, and she has been put in my charge. I must try to give her the right training.”

From that time forward Mr. Asplin studied Peggy with a special interest, and a few evenings later a conversation took place among the young people which confirmed him in his conclusion as to her possibilities. Lessons were over for the day, and girls and boys were amusing themselves in the drawing-room, while Mr. Asplin read the _Spectator_, and his wife knitted stockings by the fire. Mellicent was embroidering a prospective Christmas present, an occupation which engaged her leisure hours from March to December; Esther was reading, and Peggy was supposed to be writing a letter, but was, in reality, talking incessantly, with her elbows planted on the table, and her face supported on her clasped hands. She wore a bright pink frock, which gave a tinge of colour to the pale face, her hair was unbound from the tight pig-tail and tied with a ribbon on the nape of her neck, from which it fell in smooth heavy waves to her waist. It was one of the moments when her companions realised with surprise that Peggy could look astonishingly pretty upon occasion, and Oswald, from the sofa, and Max and Bob, from the opposite side of the table, listened to her words with all the more attention on that account.

She was discussing the heroine of a book which they had been reading in turns, pointing out the inconsistencies in her behaviour, and expatiating on the superior manner in which she--Mariquita--would have behaved had positions been reversed. Then the boys had described their own imaginary conduct under the trying circumstances, drawing forth peals of derisive laughter from the feminine audience, and the question had finally drifted from “What would you do?” to “What would you be?” with the result that each one was eager to expatiate on his own pet schemes and ambitions.

“I should like to come out first in all England in the Local Examinations, get my degree of M.A., and be a teacher in a large High School,” said Esther solemnly. “At Christmas and Easter I would come home and see my friends, and in summer time I’d go abroad and travel, and rub up my languages. Of course, what I should like best would be to be head mistress of Girton, but I could not expect that to come for a good many years. I must be content to work my way up, and I shall be quite happy wherever I am, so long as I am teaching.”

“Poor old Esther! and she will wear spectacles, and black alpaca dresses, and woollen mittens on her hands! Can’t I see her!” cried Max, throwing back his head with one of the cheery bursts of laughter which brought his mother’s eyes upon him with a flash of adoring pride. “Now there’s none of that overweening ambition about me. I could bear up if I never saw an improving book again. What _I_ would like would be for some benevolent old millionaire to take a fancy to me, and adopt me as his heir. I feel cut out to be a country gentleman and march about in gaiters and knickerbockers, looking after the property, don’t you know, and interviewing my tenants. I’d be strict with them, but kind at the same time; look into all their grievances, and put them right whenever I could. I’d make it a model place before I’d done with it, and all the people would adore me. That’s my ambition, and a very good one it is too; I defy anyone to have a better.”

“I should like to marry a very rich man with a big moustache, and a beautiful house in London with a fireplace in the hall,” cried Mellicent fervently. “I should have carriages and horses, and a diamond necklace and three children; Valentine Roy--that should be the boy--and Hildegarde and Ermyntrude, the girls, and they should have golden hair like Rosalind, and blue eyes, and never wear anything but white, and big silk sashes. I’d have a housekeeper to look after the dinners and things, and a governess for the children, and never do anything myself except give orders and go out to parties. I’d be the happiest woman that ever lived.”

Lazy Oswald smiled in complacent fashion.

“And the fattest! Dearie me, wouldn’t you be a tub! I don’t know that I have any special ambition. I mean to get my degree if I can, and then persuade the governor to send me a tour round the world. I like moving about, and change and excitement, and travelling is good fun if you avoid the fag, and provide yourself with introductions to the right people. I know a fellow who went off for a year and had no end of a time; people put him up at their houses, and got up balls and dinners for his benefit, and he never had to rough it a bit. I could put in a year or two in that way uncommonly well.”

Rob had been wriggling on his chair and scowling in his wild-bear fashion all the while Oswald was speaking, and at the conclusion he relieved his feelings by kicking out recklessly beneath the table, with the result that Peggy sat up suddenly with a “My foot, my friend! Curb your enthusiasm!” which made him laugh, despite his annoyance.

“But it’s such bosh!” he cried scornfully. “It makes me sick to hear a fellow talk such nonsense. Balls and dinners--faugh! If that’s your idea of happiness, why not settle down in London and be done with it! That’s the place for you! I’d give my ears to go round the world, but I wouldn’t thank you to go with a dress suit and a valet; I’d want to rough it, to get right out of the track of civilisation and taste a new life; to live with the Bedouin in their tents as some of those artist fellows have done, or make friends with a tribe of savages. Magnificent! I’d keep a note-book with an account of all I did, and all the strange plants and flowers and insects I came across, and write a book when I came home. I’d a lot rather rough it in Africa that lounge about Piccadilly in a frock coat and tall hat.” Robert sighed at the hard prospect which lay before him as the son of a noble house, then looked across the table with a smile: “And what says the fair Mariquita? What _rôle_ in life is she going to patronise when she comes to years of discretion?”

Peggy nibbled the end of her pen and stared into space.

“I’ve not quite decided,” she said slowly. “I should like to be either an author or an orator, but I’m not sure which. I think, on the whole, an orator, because then you could watch the effect of your words. It is not possible, of course, but what I should like best would be to be the Archbishop of Canterbury, or some great dignitary of the Church. Oh, just imagine it! To stand up in the pulpit and see the dim cathedral before one, and the faces of the people looking up, white and solemn.... I’d stand waiting until the roll of the organ died away and there was a great silence; then I would look at them, and say to myself--‘A thousand people, two thousand people, and for half an hour they are in my power. I can make them think as I will, see as I will, feel as I will. They are mine! I am their leader.’--I cannot imagine anything in the world more splendid than that! I should choose to be the most wonderful orator that was ever known, and people would come from all over the world to hear me, and I would say beautiful things in beautiful words, and see the answer in their faces, and meet the flash in the eyes looking up into mine. Oh--h! if it could only--only be true; but it can’t, you see. I am a girl, and if I try to do anything in public I am as nervous as a rabbit, and can only squeak, squeak, squeak in a tiny little voice that would not reach across the room. I had to recite at a prize-giving at school once, and, my dears, it was a lamentable failure! I was only audible to the first three rows, and when it was over, I simply sat down and howled, and my knees shook. Oh, dear, the very recollection unpowers me! So I think, on the whole, I shall be an authoress, and let my pen be my sceptre. From my quiet fireside,” cried Peggy, with a sudden assumption of the Mariquita manner, and a swing of the arms which upset a vase of chrysanthemums, and sent a stream of water flowing over the table--“from my quiet fireside I will sway the hearts of men----”

“My plush cloth! Oh, bad girl,--my new plush cloth! You dreadful Peggy, what will I do with you!” Mrs. Asplin rushed forward to mop with her handkerchief and lift the dripping flowers to a place of safety, while Peggy rolled up her eyes with an expression of roguish impenitence.

“Dear Mrs. Asplin, it was not I, it was that authoress. She was evolving her plots.... Pity the eccentricities of the great!”

(_To be continued._)

ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.

MEDICAL.

HERMIA.--We have never seen nor heard of cancer occurring in a girl of eighteen. The earliest age at which we have seen cancer of the breast was twenty-four. The disease is exceedingly rare before thirty-five. You have probably got a simple swelling. Go to a surgeon and ask his advice. Possibly a trivial operation may be needed to remove the lump.

MA TANTE.--What is your work? This is the first question to ask anyone who is troubled with roughness of the arms. We would have been pleased if you had given us a description of the roughness of which you complain. Roughness above the elbows may be due to so many causes. If there is nothing to see upon your arm, no spots or patches, but simply a slight scaliness of the arm, wash the place in warm water and soap, and then smear on a very little lanoline or simple ointment.

COMPLEXION.--1. We have published many long “Answers” on the subject of face-spots. In last year’s volume you will find a very long account of “acne” in an answer to “Fair Isabel.” In 1896 we published an article on face-spots. You should read these and they will tell you practically all that you require. The little article on the complexion, recently published, will also help you.--2. The soap that you mention is made for household and not for toilet use. We strongly dissuade you from using it for washing your face.

TIGER.--We are always pleased to answer questions about the feet and hands, for the subject has great fascination for us. The cause and treatment of flat-foot are well understood; but it is far more easy to prevent the feet from becoming flat, than it is to restore the natural arch of the foot after it has once been broken down. The causes of flat-foot are numerous. Occupations which necessitate prolonged standing. How often we see flat-foot in policemen. Occupations in which you sit down all day. The office clerk is generally flat-footed. Weakness of the muscles of the legs, whether part of a general weakness or not, is another cause. Lastly, and vastly the most important cause of all is ill-fitting foot-gear. We do not believe that flat-foot would ever occur if people did not wear boots or shoes. If your boots are very well made, and do not bend at the waist, but are flexible in the toes, they will not produce flat-foot. But by far the greater number of boots bend in the waist only, the result is, that the centre of the foot, where nature intended that but little movement should take place, is the only part of the civilised foot which is free to bend. Its joints are dragged open at every step, the tendons and ligaments give way, the arch collapses and the foot becomes quite flat. To treat flat-foot, get boots which fit well, and which are prevented from bending in the centre by being stiffened with a steel waist. Pads are often used for this complaint. The pads are shaped like a division of an orange and are placed in the boots to support the instep. If they fit and are comfortable they are useful. If, as is usually the case, they do not fit, they cause extreme discomfort and do great harm. Walking on tip-toe for half an hour a day, without boots or shoes on, will help to strengthen the foot and relieve the flatness. Walking, running and jumping, are excellent exercises for the relief or flat-foot. Skipping is a pleasant and useful pastime for flat-footed girls.

FORGET-ME-NOT.--1. We are much pleased to hear that your daughter’s hair has improved from using the wash. Continue to wash her hair once a week with the boracic acid. After having washed and dried her hair rub a little sulphur ointment into the scalp. It is useless to apply the ointment to the hair itself.--2. Your second question is rather difficult to answer. Your daughter is certainly suffering from blepharitis--a most intractable disease. The treatment that you are carrying out is the best we know; but we would suggest that she should bathe her eyes twice a day in warm solution of bicarbonate of soda (5 grains to the ounce). In your daughter’s case it is probable that something more than lotions and ointments is needed. It is well worth your while to consult an ophthalmic surgeon. The longer the disease has lasted the more difficult it is to cure. You should attend to the general health of your daughter and feed her well.

HESPERUS.--Do not feed your children on condensed milk alone. If you continue to do so you will have five rickety children to look after. Cow’s milk diluted with fresh barley water is the best artificial food (excluding asses’ milk which is very expensive) for infants. The elder children may be allowed to eat much the same as you do yourself. It is always well to let children have plenty of milk even when they can digest ordinary adult diet. Give the child with “weak legs” a little cream with her milk.

URSULA.--1. A pale swollen tongue is a symptom of many complaints. Usually it denotes indigestion, constipation or anæmia. It is constantly present in atonic and amylaceous dyspepsia.--2. The incubation period of mumps is rather variable. It is usually from two to three weeks.

ROLY POLY.--1. The usual expedient adopted to cure children from the habit of biting their nails is to dip their fingers into tincture of aloes or solution of alum. If you cannot cure yourself of the habit by rational means, you might try one of these measures; but surely a girl of seventeen can restrain herself from such a habit. It is a very silly trick to get accustomed to, for it interferes with the proper development of the nails, and, consequently, spoils the look of the hands.--2. Clean your nails well and rub a very little lanoline into them.

JANET.--Go to an ophthalmic surgeon and get your eyes seen to at once. If taken in time squint is usually cured without operation.

MIRIAM.--We cannot too strongly insist upon the foolishness of taking patent medicines. How anyone can trifle with her health in this way we cannot conceive. When you take patent medicine, what are you doing? You are throwing into your blood a decoction of which you know nothing. You are feeding yourself upon drugs which, for all you know, may poison you. And what do you take these drugs for? Oh, for a headache, or for biliousness! And yet you have no stronger authority for taking the stuff for your ailment than the assurance of the company who sells the medicine. Of course we know that most patent medicines are inert; but only this morning a case is related in the newspapers of a woman who died from taking somebody’s pills. Give up your silly habit of taking drugs at all. If you were not careless with your health you would probably not be suffering from your present troubles.

MISCELLANEOUS.

SOLDIER’S FRIEND.--The Royal Artillery College is at Woolwich. The Royal School of Military Engineering is at Chatham. We do not quite comprehend your question. The candidate would have to pass the entrance examination, of course.

FIANCÉE.--At a reception after a two o’clock wedding the refreshments would consist of tea, coffee, or iced coffee, cups of any kind you may like; sandwiches, jellies, blancmanges, trifles, ices, cake, bread and butter; plenty of flowers, and the wedding-cake. You could have some tiny tables arranged about the room, but the refreshments are what are called “standing up,” exactly like a large afternoon tea. The bride’s father provides carriages for the bride and the family in the house. Her bridesmaids should meet her at the church, and if needful a carriage should be provided for their return; but it is not customary to provide any for the guests, unless the church be at a great distance off. In this case it is better to invite the guests to the reception only, but this is optional. You would take your father’s left arm to walk up the aisle, and you return in the same carriage that brought you, unless the bridegroom should possess a carriage of his own, when the bride sometimes returns in that, but not always.

MABEL.--For a mayor’s reception held in the evening you and your husband should both wear evening dress. The lady mayoress generally receives her guests, and you should give your names to the servant who announces you, and then go forward and shake hands.

SOPHIA.--“The King’s Daughters” form an order of Christian service, which was first founded in America, where it has over 200,000 members. It has now been made international. The branch for Great Britain was formed in 1891. The object of the Order is to develop spiritual life and to stimulate Christian activity by creating a world-wide sisterhood of service among all women who are doing anything to uplift humanity. Their badge is a small silver cross, bearing the initials of their watchword--“In His Name.” It is now worn all over the world. In all 400,000 men, women, and children have taken the little cross as the outward symbol of their pledge of love and service for Christ’s sake, and there are more than 1,000 different lines of work carried out by the Order. It was founded by ten women in New York City on January 13th, 1886, and its progress may be considered quite unique, as it is one of the most remarkable of the great religious societies of the day. In England the Hon. Secretary and Treasurer is Miss M. Stuart, 17, Morpeth Mansions, Victoria Street, London, S.W., from whom all information can be obtained.

ROWENA.--The personal property of an unmarried sister would be equally divided between mother, brothers, and sisters; but if the father were living, the whole would go to him. Real property would all go to the eldest brother, unless there were a father, when it would all go to him. You will find all about intestates’ estates in _Whitaker’s Almanack_, from which we take the above.

CLEMATIS.--The word “Beryl” is pronounced as having two syllables--Ber-ril; and the word “minx” is pronounced as spelt--minks.

ISABEL.--February 13th, 1847, was a Saturday.

THE GIRL’S OWN QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS COMPETITION.

_The sixth and last instalment of questions in this instructive Competition is given below. Full details as to prizes and certificates of merit appeared on page 14._

QUESTIONS 61-72.

61. Is what is known as the poisonous upas tree of Java a fact or a hoax?

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62. What is the best way of treating a fainting fit?

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63. What public punishment was once in use in England for scolding women?

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64. What was the origin of the phrase “The Wise Fools of Gotham?”

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65. Is length of life greater now than it used to be?

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66. Of what literary work has it been said that it is “perhaps the only book about which the educated minority has come over to the opinion of the common people?”

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67. Who was the young Fellow of Oxford who, during the latter half of last century, eloped with a banker’s daughter and came in the end to be Lord Chancellor of England?

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68. What plant was introduced early in the seventeenth century into this country as an ornamental plant but is now a favourite vegetable?

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69. Who was the father of English Cathedral music?

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70. What may fairly claim to be the greatest work of imagination in the world?

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71. What Scottish sovereign, looking out of the window of the prison in which he was once confined, caught sight for the first time of the lady whom he afterwards married?

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72. How many different kinds of clouds may be seen floating in the sky?

The answers to the above questions, Nos. 61-72, together with the answers to questions 49-60, which appeared on page 135, must be sent in on or before February 24, 1899.

Address to THE EDITOR, THE GIRL’S OWN PAPER Office, 56, Paternoster Row, London, E.C., and at the left-hand top corner of the envelope or wrapper write the words “QUESTIONS COMPETITION.”

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THE FAIRY GOVERNESS.

A MUSICAL STORY.

Written and Composed by HERBERT HARRADEN.

_Characters:_

HYACINTHIA The Fairy of the Dell. FAIRY GOVERNESS (Elderly looking). FLIBBIE An Elf. ALICE A Mortal Child.

Fairies and Elves in attendance on HYACINTHIA (but these can be dispensed with).

_Introduction:_ Play the Accompaniment of No. 3 for the Introduction.

_Scene: A DELL._

_Enter FAIRY GOVERNESS._

No. 1. SAD AND SORROWFUL.

(SONG.--GOVERNESS.)

[Music]

1. For me the sun doth ne - ver shine, For me there is no peace, A wea - ry, drea - ry lot is mine, My troubles nev - er cease, A wea - ry, drea - ry lot is mine, My troubles nev - er cease.

A stranger to joy and glee, With ne - ver a mo - ment free, There’s rest for me ne - ver, For ev - er and ev - er A Go - ver - ness I must be, A sad and sor - row - ful, tired - out Go - ver - ness I must ev - er be.

2. And will the sun ne’er shine a - gain As in the days of yore? Ah, no! my hopes _have_ been in vain, And will be ev - er - more. Ah, no! my hopes _have_ been in vain, And will be ev - er - more.

A stranger to joy and glee, With ne - ver a mo - ment free, There’s rest for me ne - ver, For ev - er and ev - er A Go - ver - ness I must be, A sad and sor - row - ful, tired - out Go - ver - ness I must ev - er be.

GOV. (_sitting down_). Ah! it is a cruel punishment! Once I was a mortal child, but that was years ago, and when I came into Hyacinth Dell I was made a Fairy, and was appointed Governess to the most trying and perverse Elf in all Fairy Land. I don’t dare to think that _I_ was as trying and perverse to _my_ Governess. She told me that this Dell was enchanted, and forbade me to enter it, and only when it was _too late_ did I regret my disobedience. Here comes my precious pupil.

_Enter FLIBBIE._

GOV. Now, Flibbie, late again! You are always unpunctual. It is very wrong to be unpunctual. Come here at once!

FLIB. (_slyly_). Please, Governess, is it worse to be unpunctual than disobedient?

GOV. Whatever you do that is not right is wrong.

FLIB. That is rather an artful answer.

GOV. How dare you speak to me like that?

FLIB. (_laughs slyly_).

GOV. Don’t laugh!

FLIB. (_serious_). I’m not laughing.

GOV. But you _were_ laughing. And how many times have I told you not to twiddle your thumbs?

FLIB. I really don’t know, Governess; it never occurred to me to count.

GOV. We will commence with History. How was William Rufus killed?

FLIB. With an arrow.

GOV. There’s a good Flibbie! You see you _can_ be good if you try. And who killed him?

FLIB. A sparrow.

GOV. A sparrow?

FLIB. Yes, Governess. “I, said the sparrow, with my bow and arrow.” Shakespeare!

GOV. But I was asking about William Rufus.

FLIB. Oh, I beg your pardon, Governess, I thought you were asking about Cock Robin. Of course, William Rufus was killed by Sir Walter Squirrel.

GOV. “Sir Walter” is right, Flibbie, but not “Squirrel.”

FLIB. Oh, I beg your pardon, Governess, I saw one on that oak-tree, and it diverted my thoughts. Of course, it was Sir Walter Tyrrel.

GOV. Quite right, Flibbie. And why was William called Rufus?

FLIB. On account of the colour of his hair.

GOV. And what colour was his hair?

FLIB. Blue; and he had a big beard of the same colour, and he had ever so many wives, and he cut off their heads, and, and--hung them up in the drawing-room, and locked the door--and----

GOV. No, no, Flibbie! You are thinking of Blue Beard. What colour was the hair of William Rufus?

FLIB. Green.

GOV. No.

FLIB. Magenta.

GOV. No.

FLIB. Vandyke brown.

GOV. No.

FLIB. Crimson lake.

GOV. Oh, Flibbie, how trying you are!

FLIB. Pink.

GOV. No.

FLIB. Vermilion.

GOV. No.

FLIB. I recollect, now. Red.

GOV. Quite right, Flibbie.

FLIB. And for this reason the boys at school called him “Carrots.”

GOV. I don’t think that’s in history, Flibbie.

FLIB. Then, please, Governess, I think it ought to be.

GOV. Now for Geography. What is an Island?

FLIB. An Island is a piece of water surrounded by land.

GOV. Oh, Flibbie, how _can_ you be so irritating? I must insist upon knowing what an Island is.

FLIB. Don’t you know? As you are a Governess, you ought to know.

GOV. Of course I know, but I want you to tell me what an Island is, so that _I_ may know that _you_ know.

FLIB. An Island is a piece of land surrounded by water.

GOV. Quite right! Why didn’t you say that at first?

FLIB. Didn’t I?

GOV. Flibbie, you know you didn’t. What is Sheffield celebrated for?

FLIB. For the crocodiles that infest its shores.

GOV. Flibbie, your behaviour is shameful.

FLIB. Oh, I beg your pardon, Governess, that’s the answer to “What is the Nile celebrated for?” Sheffield is celebrated for its cutlets.

GOV. For its cutlets?

FLIB. I beg your pardon, Governess, I meant cutlery.

GOV. And now for Grammar. What is Grammar?

FLIB. A nuisance.

GOV. I don’t want your opinion of Grammar, Flibbie, I want your definition of it.

FLIB. Please, Governess, I cannot give _my_ definition of it, but I can give Webster’s.

GOV. Very well, Flibbie.

FLIB. Grammar is “the science of language; the theory of human speech; the study of forms of speech, and their relations to one another.”

GOV. Very good indeed, Flibbie. Now, what is a Conjunction?

FLIB. It is a place where different lines of railways meet. There’s one at Clapham.

GOV. No, Flibbie, you are thinking of a Junction. What is a Conjunction?

FLIB. Oh, I beg your pardon! A Conjunction is “a connective or connecting word; an indeclinable word which serves to unite sentences, clauses of a sentence, or words.” Also Webster. And, please, Governess, there is a little point of grammar that has always puzzled me. Will you kindly explain it?

GOV. Certainly, Flibbie. What is it?

FLIB. Is it correct to say “Four and seven _is_ twelve,” or, “Four and seven _are_ twelve”?

GOV. Why, of course, Flibbie, it is correct to say “Four and seven _are_ twelve.”

FLIB. (_laughing_). Please, Governess, I’m sure it isn’t, for four and seven are eleven. I caught you there!

GOV. Was there ever such an imp! Now for Spelling.

No. 2. SPELLING DUET.

(GOVERNESS AND FLIBBIE.)

[Music]

GOVERNESS. 1. How do you spell Cat?

FLIBBIE. Please, Go - ver - ness, did you say Rat?

GOVERNESS. No, I said Cat.

FLIBBIE. I beg your par - don! I thought you said Rat.

GOVERNESS. No, I said Cat!

FLIBBIE. I thought you said Rat.

GOVERNESS. Spell Cat!

FLIBBIE. I can ea - si - ly do that. K A T, Kat.

GOVERNESS. You are so wil - ful and per - verse, It’s real - ly ve - ry sad; Each day you’re get - ting worse and worse, And soon you’ll drive me mad!

FLIBBIE. I’m ve - ry sor - ry, Go - ver - ness, I real - ly _can’t_ be good; How much I try you can - not guess, I on - ly wish I could.

GOVERNESS. 2. How do you spell Fat?

FLIBBIE. Please, Go - ver - ness, did you say Mat?

GOVERNESS. No, I said Fat.

FLIBBIE. Kind - ly ex - cuse me! I thought you said Mat.

GOVERNESS. No, I said Fat!

FLIBBIE. I thought you said Mat.

GOVERNESS. Spell Fat!

FLIBBIE. I can ea - si - ly do that. P H A T, Phat.

GOVERNESS. You are so wil - ful and per - verse, It’s real - ly ve - ry sad; Each day you’re get - ting worse and worse, And soon you’ll drive me mad!

FLIBBIE. I’m ve - ry sor - ry, Go - ver - ness, I real - ly _can’t_ be good; How much I try you can - not guess, I real - ly wish I could, How much I try you can - not guess, I on - ly wish I could.

{GOVERNESS.} {FLIBBIE. } {You are so wil - ful and per - verse,} {I’m ve - ry sor - ry, Go - ver - ness,}

{It’s real - ly ve - ry sad;} {I real - ly _can’t_ be good;}

{Each day you’re get - ting worse and worse,} {How much I try you can - not guess,}

{And soon you’ll drive me mad,} {I real - ly wish I could,}

{Each day you’re get - ting worse and worse,} {How much I try you can - not guess,}

{And soon you’ll drive me mad!} {I on - ly wish I could.}

FLIB. Please, Governess, I’m tired of lessons. Take me for a little walk.

GOV. Very well, Flibbie, but you must try to walk slower. I am not so active as you are.

FLIB. I’ll try, Governess. (_Aside_) Won’t I lead her a dance! That’s all.

GOV. Come along, then!

_Exeunt GOVERNESS and FLIBBIE._

_Enter ALICE._

No. 3. “I’M NOT TO DO THIS.”

(SONG.--ALICE.)

[Music]

1. I’ve es - caped from my Go - ver - ness! Oh, what a treat! Some fault she has al - ways to find; And when I get home, with a scold - ing I’ll meet, But not in the least shall I mind. She’ll be in a ter - ri - ble fright, I can tell, But she’ll hunt for me vain - ly, I fear; She for - bade me to en - ter this beau - ti - ful Dell, And that is the rea - son I’m here.

I’m not to do this, I am to do that, I’m grum - bled at all the day long; What - ev - er I don’t do, What - ev - er I do do, I’m sure to be told it is wrong, wrong, wrong, Ne - ver right, ne - ver right, al - ways wrong.

2. And this is the Dell that’s en - chant - ed, she said, I’m sure it looks harm - less e - nough; The sto - ry in some chil - dren’s book she has read, So it must all be non - sense and stuff. Of course she will say to me, “Where did you go?” And the truth I will cer - tain - ly tell; And then I can tease her and laugh at her so, For be - liev - ing in Hy - a - cinth Dell.

I’m not to do this, I am to do that, I’m grum - bled at all the day long; What - ev - er I don’t do, What - ev - er I do do, I’m sure to be told it is wrong, wrong, wrong, Ne - ver right, ne - ver right, al - ways wrong.

ALICE (_looking off_). But who is this coming so slowly along? She certainly looks as if she wanted stirring up a bit.

_Enter GOVERNESS. ALICE retires to the back and listens._

GOV. (_sitting down_). I seem to get weaker and weaker and more tired every day. I’m sure it is hard enough to have to take Flibbie out for a walk, for he goes so fast on purpose, as he knows that I am obliged to keep up with him; but when it comes to have to run after him, it is intolerable. Of course, if he gets into mischief, I get into trouble for it; and as he is always getting into mischief, on purpose, I am always getting into trouble. He’s run away and hidden himself somewhere. I’ve hunted for him high and low, and it’s almost time for his Euclid lesson. Oh, dear me! Who’d be a Governess, a miserable Governess!

ALICE (_coming forward_). Oh, tell me that I have not heard rightly. Tell me that you are _not_ a Governess.

GOV. (_rising_). A mortal child! Unhappy One! Why, oh, why did you venture into Hyacinth Dell. I _am_ a Governess--a Fairy Governess.

ALICE. Then what my Governess told me was true! Why didn’t I believe her?

GOV. What did she tell you?

ALICE. She told me that this Dell was enchanted, and forbade me to enter it.

GOV. History repeats itself. It was the same in my case.

ALICE. She told me of a child called Alice--and my name is Alice, too--and how the other Alice lived with her parents in Ivy Hall, where we are all living now; and my Governess told me how the other Alice disobeyed her Governess and came into this Dell, and how her parents never saw her again, and how they both died broken-hearted, for she was their only child, and was very dear to them. But I only laughed at her.

GOV. Poor child! There will be no more laughter for you. _I_ am that other Alice.

_Enter FLIBBIE._

FLIB. Oh, there you are, Governess! I’ll report you for leaving me during school time.

GOV. (_to ALICE_). This is my pupil.

FLIB. (_seeing ALICE_). Who’s this? What’s this? Why, it’s a mortal child! Oh, naughty, naughty! Haven’t you put your foot into it! (_dancing round her_). What fun, what fun!

ALICE. Oh, let me go! (_To GOVERNESS_) Help me to get away.

_Enter HYACINTHIA with ATTENDANTS._

HYA. No, Alice, that cannot be.

ALICE (_to HYACINTHIA_). Who are _you_?

_FLIBBIE seats himself at the side and silently expresses his delight during the following Trio._

No. 4. THE PUNISHMENT.

(TRIO.--HYACINTHIA, FAIRY GOVERNESS, AND ALICE.)

[Music]

RECIT.--HYACINTHIA. I am the Fai - ry of the Dell, And on it there’s a spell! A - lice! A - lice! You know a - bout it well. The words of your Go - ver - ness scorn - ing, And heed - less of her warn - ing, In - to my realms you’ve dared to stray, And the pe - nal - ty you must pay.

ALICE. This is a dream, a ter - ri - ble dream, Ah! would that I could wake!

HYACINTHIA. This is no dream, un - hap - py child! All hope you must for - sake!

GOVERNESS (_to HYACINTHIA_). Oh! save her from the grief in store! Spare her, spare her, I im - plore! Spare her, spare her, I im - plore!

HYACINTHIA (_to ALICE_) 1. Your Go - ver - ness was good and kind, And pa - tient as could be; But ah! how good and kind she was You nev - er seemed to see. You al - ways did your ve - ry best To vex her in each way, And e’en the slight - est wish of hers, At once you’d dis - o - bey. Such bit - ter pain as you have caus’d, Now, A - lice, you shall know, And com - ing ’neath my ma - gic power, No mer - cy may I show.

HYACINTHIA (_to ALICE_) 2. Your dis - o - be - dience you will rue, Your pun - ish - ment is great; You’ll find it more than hard to bear, So lis - ten to your fate. From hence - forth it will be your task To try to teach this elf, Whom you will find as cru - el and As wil - ful as your - self. He’ll mock at you, and jeer at you, And vain - ly you’ll com - plain, And in this Dell as Go - ver - ness For ev - er you’ll re - main.

{ALICE. } {GOVERNESS.} Spare {me, } I im - plore! {her,}

Oh, spare {me, } I im - plore! {her,}

HYACINTHIA. No! in this Dell as Go - ver - ness,

{HYACINTHIA. } {GOVERNESS & ALICE.} {For ev - er you’ll re - main.} {Oh, spare {her,} I im - plore!} {me, }

FLIB. (_coming forward_). Well, this _has_ been a treat. I haven’t enjoyed myself so much for ever so long.

ALICE (_to HYACINTHIA_). Oh, spare me!

HYA. Why should you be spared? Did you spare your poor, patient Governess?

ALICE. Bitterly, most bitterly do I repent my conduct. Ah! let me go back, and I will make up to her for the past.

HYA. It is too late.

FLIB. (_to ALICE_). Cry-Baby!

GOV. Shame on you, Flibbie! How unkind you are!

ALICE. And am I to remain in this Dell for ever?

HYA. For ever.

ALICE. Shall I never again see my parents, nor my sisters and brother?

HYA. Never!

FLIB. Nor your pet rabbit, Cry-Baby.

GOV. Flibbie, how heartless you are! And besides, how do you know that she has a pet rabbit?

FLIB. She looks that sort of girl.

HYA. (_to ALICE_). All that you hold dear is forfeited.

ALICE. Spare me! Forgive me!

HYA. I _would_ spare you, I _would_ forgive you, but I am powerless to do so, except under one condition.

ALICE. Oh, what is it? I promise faithfully to perform any condition.

HYA. I may not tell you. It is a secret entrusted to me, and only to me, by the Queen of the Fairies.

GOV. (_to HYACINTHIA_). Mistress, have pity! Long, long ago, when I was a mortal child I disobeyed my Governess and came into Hyacinth Dell. For all these weary years I have borne the bitter punishment of being Governess to this Elf. I have lost every happiness, and there only remains the memory of the bright and golden days of my childhood to make me more unhappy still. Ah! do not doom poor Alice to such a fate as mine. I know that by the laws of Fairy Land the coming of this mortal child releases me from my dreadful post. I know that she will have to fill this, and that I shall be appointed to a lighter punishment; but rather than that she should suffer as I have suffered, ah! let me remain still a Governess, and set Alice free!

HYA. All your pleadings would have been in vain, but you yourself, unknowingly, have fulfilled the condition. Your loving words of self-denial have broken the charm, and Alice is free.

ALICE. Free!

FLIB. Oh, I _am_ sorry! I was _so_ looking forward to having a Cry-Baby for a new Governess. I’d have given her something to cry for. Never mind! I’ll give the old Governess a worse time of it.

ALICE (_to FLIBBIE_). You horrid little monster! (_To GOVERNESS_) Oh, but this is too terrible! How can I leave you to all this misery, and for my sake? I should always be thinking of you. No! you shall not make this sacrifice for me. (_To HYACINTHIA_) Fairy, forget what she has said, and give me my punishment!

HYA. No, Alice, that cannot be, for the charm is broken! But be comforted, for there is also happiness for her who has restored you your happiness. (_To GOVERNESS_) Once having been made a Fairy, you must always remain a Fairy, but the memory of the days when you were a mortal child shall fade away, and only glad thoughts shall be yours. You have aged beneath your constant cares, but a Governess no longer, be young once more, and let a bright raiment be in keeping with your Future!

_HYACINTHIA waves her wand and a change comes over the FAIRY GOVERNESS. She is now young looking, and she wears a glittering dress._

HYA. (_to GOVERNESS_). I appoint you to be Alice’s Good Fairy; to watch over her, and to guide her lovingly all through her life.

ALICE (_to GOVERNESS_). Ah! how beautiful you are, and as good as you are beautiful!

HYA. Look your last on her, Alice, for you will never see her again. When you have left Hyacinth Dell she will be invisible to you, but she will always be with you, and you will only _feel_ her presence.

FLIB. And what about _me_? Without any Governess to tease and torment, life won’t be worth living.

HYA. Then, Flibbie, I will make it worth living. Your nature shall change, and, from being the most wilful and perverse Elf in Fairy Land, in future all the other Elves will look upon you as a model of obedience, sweetness, and goodness, in your new appointment as _aide-de-camp_ to Alice’s Good Fairy.

FLIB. (_to GOVERNESS_). For the last time ask me to spell something!

GOV. (_laughing_). No, Flibbie; you are sure to make a mistake on purpose. I know your tricks.

FLIB. Ask me to spell “A phenomenally exquisite Dear.”

HYA. What a big word for such a little thing.

ALICE. I half think I couldn’t _pronounce_ that long word. It must be at least twelve syllables; and I certainly altogether think that no one could spell it.

FLIB. (_to ALICE_). I beg your pardon! _I_ can. (_To_ GOVERNESS) Please, ask me to spell “A phenomenally exquisite Dear.”

GOV. Oh, Flibbie, Flibbie, I know perfectly well that you’ll spell “phenomenally” with an F instead of with P H; and “exquisite” with K S, instead of with an X; and as to “Dear,” there are two ways of spelling it, and I don’t know which one you mean.

FLIB. Please, ask me to spell it.

GOV. Very well, then. Spell “A phenomenally exquisite Dear.”

FLIB. (_embracing her_). Now hear me spell it, quite correctly, and in _one_ letter.

GOV. In _one_ letter, Flibbie?

FLIB. U.

No. 5. FINALE.

(HYACINTHIA, FAIRY GOVERNESS, FLIBBIE, AND ALICE.)

[Music]

FLIBBIE (_to GOVERNESS_). I’m your hum - ble slave! You’ll see in fu - ture how well I’ll be - have.

GOVERNESS. I’m sure of that.

FLIBBIE. For my bad con - duct your par - don I crave.

GOVERNESS. Is there good rea - son why for that you should ask?

FLIBBIE. Yes!

GOVERNESS. No! To be naughty was your du - ty, and you well performed your task.

HYACINTHIA. Dear A - lice, ne’er we’ll meet again, And now you may de - part; I’m sure this les - son will re - main For ev - er in your heart.

ALICE (_to_ GOVERNESS). Oh, Fai - ry! words I cannot find To tell my thanks to you; Your kind - ness I will bear in mind, For all my lifetime through.

{HYACINTHIA, } {GOVERNESS, FLIBBIE, AND ALICE.} Oh! nev - er {you’ll} for - get the day { I’ll }

That brought {you} to this Dell; { me}

No long - er here must {you} de - lay, { I }

{So } {I’ll} hast - en home, Farewell!

No long - er here must {you} de - lay, { I }

{So } {I’ll} hast - en home, Fare - well!