In the winter, when the leaves had fallen off from the trees, the sun shone in at the school-room windows, and it was so light and cheerful that the teacher and her scholars liked to be there better than anywhere else. Harry Linn’s father used to say that Mary’s face was sunshiny, because it was so good-humoured. When her little flock went out to play, at recess-time, she sometimes went too, for the sake of the exercise; and they were always glad when Mary went with them. She would take turns with them in jumping rope, and playing “Let us see who can run fastest;” and she would show the boys how to trundle their hoops; and she knew how to fix the paper sails to the little boats which the boys made for themselves; and then she would take them along by the side of the little brook of water that was down in the woods, and find a place for them where they could stoop down without getting their feet wet, to sail their boats. One of the home-made boats was such a fast sailer that Charles Linn, who was quite a little carpenter, asked Mary to print a name on his boat. She asked, “What shall its name be?” But they could not agree upon a name, for one wanted one name, and another wanted something different. So Mary cut up a piece of paper which she had in her hand into nine slips; and then she went round to each scholar, and told every one to whisper to her the name he or she liked best; and she wrote down the choice of each one on a separate slip of the paper, and lastly, on the ninth slip, she wrote down the name which she herself preferred. After this was done, Mary read the names written down, aloud. Two of the scholars had chosen the name of “Swan.” Three had chosen the name of “Mary,” and four had chosen the name of “Water-witch.” So the little fast-sailing boat was named “Water-witch.” I suppose they had talked about this name before. “Now,” said Mary, “we will all go back to school;” and her happy little scholars were ready to do as she wished. “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.” Mary remembered her promise to Harry Linn, to read him a story which would teach him how a little girl of four years old could be useful and happy. And she said all who wished to hear it might put by their books and slates, while she read it to them. They all liked to have Mary read to them, and all the scholars put up their work to listen to her. Story of Anne Lyle, A LITTLE GIRL OF FOUR YEARS OLD. A little girl am I, With sisters, two, three, four, A father, and a mother, One brother, and no more. My name is Anne Lyle, I hardly ever cry, And in a little trundle-bed, In mother’s room, I lie. I wait on my mamma, And tend our little Will, I play with him, and sing to him, And try to keep him still.