The bairns simply howled, and when Dorothy took out her wee handkerchief and pretended to cry, laughter was dissolved in tears. It was minutes time, and she insisted on blowing the "Dismiss" on the bugle. Her efforts brought the house down. The girls refused to dismiss, they crowded round Dorothy and touched her furs. She was in high spirits. "You know, girls, I'm an actress and this big bad teacher of yours is a very old pal of mine. He isn't such a bad sort really, you know," and she put her arm round my shoulders. "See her little game, girls?" I said. "Do you notice that this woman from a disreputable profession is making advances to me? She really wants me to kiss her, you know. She--" But Dorothy shoved a piece of chalk into my mouth. What a day we had! Dorothy stayed all day, and by four o'clock she knew all the big girls by their Christian names. She insisted on their calling her Dorothy. She even tried to talk their dialect, and they screamed at her attempt to say "Guid nicht the noo." In the afternoon I got her to sing and play; then she danced a ragtime, and in a few minutes she had the whole crowd ragging up and down the floor. She stayed to tea, and we reminisced about London. Dear old Dorothy! What a joy it was to see her again, but how dull will school be tomorrow! Ah, well, it is a workaday world, and the butterflies do not come out every day. If Dorothy could read that sentence she would purse up her pretty lips and say, "Butterfly, indeed, you old bluebottle!" The dear child! * * * The school to-day was like a ballroom the "morning after." The bairns sat and talked about Dorothy, and they talked in hushed tones as about one who is dead. "Please, sir," asked Violet, "will she come back again?" "I'm afraid not," I answered. "Please, sir, you should marry her, and then she'll always be here." "She loves another man, Vi," I said ruefully, and when Vi whispered to Katie Farmer, "What a shame!" I felt very sad. For the moment I loved Dorothy, but it was mere sentimentalism, Dorothy and I could never love, we are too much of the pal to each other for emotion to enter. "She is very pretty," said Peggy Smith. "Very," I assented. "P--please, sir, you--you could marry her if you really tried?" said Violet. She had been thinking hard for a bit. "And break the other man's heart!" I laughed. Violet wrinkled her brows. "Please, sir, it wouldn't matter for him, we don't know him." "Why!" I cried, "he is a very old friend of mine!" "Oh!" Violet gasped. "Please, sir," she said after a while, "do you know any more actresses?" I seized her by the shoulders and shook her. "You wee bissom! You don't care a rap about me; all you want is that I should marry an actress. You want my wife to come and teach you ragtimes and tangoes!" And she blushed guiltily. * * *