"What am I going to do?" repeated the Norse princess cheerily. "Why, nothing at all in the way you mean. We never go away, either to the country or the sea-side, or have picnics, or parties, or any excitements of that kind. We just stay quietly at home and go on with the usual work, but I am with Mother, you know--that's my holiday! You have never seen her, you girls; I wish you had, for she is quite different to other peoples' mothers. She is only twenty years older than I am, to begin with, and she is awfully pretty. She is a tiny little thing, with dark eyes, and soft brown hair. She comes to meet me at the station in a sailor hat, and a little blue jacket, looking like a big school-girl herself. I'm so proud of her! Last time I went home I took her up in my arms and carried her across the room. She kicked like anything and said, `You disrespectful child! How dare you! Put me down this instant!' but she wasn't really angry a bit, and we both tumbled over on to the sofa, and laughed till we cried. We do enjoy ourselves so much when we get together--Mother and I. She is lonely when I am away, poor dear, with no one to speak to but the children, so we make up for it in the holidays. I sit up to supper every night, and we have coffee, and hot buttered toast, and all sorts of good things that are bad for us, and in the daytime we bribe the elder children with pennies to amuse the younger ones, so that we may have the room to ourselves, and talk of the good times we shall have when my schooling is over, and I go home to stay!" The girls gazed at Mildred as she spoke, with a mingling of envy and compassion. Envy,--because her intense delight in the mere prospect of being at home made them conscious of their own selfishness in regarding the holidays as a period when parents should occupy themselves in providing amusement for their families;--compassion,--because it was well known that Mrs Moore was a widow, and so poor that she could not afford to leave the country house where she lived with her half-dozen noisy youngsters. Mildred had been sent to a good boarding-school so that she might be able to teach her little brother and sisters in due time, and the other girls were specially pitiful over this prospect. Mary Nicoll referred to the subject now with questionable taste. "But it won't be much fun, Mildred, if you have to teach all day long. You won't be able to go about as you like, or have any time free except in the evenings. And fancy having to go over all the wretched old lessons again, and to drill tables and dates, and latitudes and longitudes into the brains of a lot of stupid children. It will be worse than being at school."