"There, now, Barby, I wasn't speaking to you," said Horace; "I mean I wasn't talking to _her_, Grace. Look here: I've heard you spell, but you didn't ask me my Joggerphy." "_Geography_, you mean, Horace." "Well, Ge-ography, then. Here's the book: we begin at the Mohammedans." Horace could pronounce that long name very well, though he had no idea what it meant. He knew there was a book called the Koran, and would have told you Mr. Mohammed wrote it; but so had Mr. Colburn written an Arithmetic, and whether both these gentlemen were alive, or both dead, was more than he could say. "Hold up your head," said Grace, with dignity, and looking as much as possible like tall Miss Allen, her teacher. "Please repeat your verse." The first sentence read, "They consider Moses and Christ as true prophets, but Mohammed as the greatest and last." "I'll tell you," said Horace: "they think that Christ and Moses was good enough prophets, but Mohammed was a heap better." "Why, Horace, it doesn't say any such think in the book! It begins, '_They consider_.'" "I don't care," said the boy, "Miss Jordan tells us to get the sense of it. Ma, musn't I get the sense of it?" he added, as Mrs. Clifford entered the kitchen. "But, mamma," broke in Grace, eagerly, "our teacher wants us to commit the verses: she says a great deal about committing the verses." "If you would give me time to answer," said Mrs. Clifford, smiling, "I should say both your teachers are quite right. You should 'get the sense of it,' as Horace says, and after that commit the verses." "But, ma, do you think Horace should say 'heap,' and 'no account,' and such words?" "It would certainly please me," said Mrs. Clifford, "if he would try to speak more correctly. My little boy knows how much I dislike some of his expressions." "There, Horace," cried Grace, triumphantly, "I always said you talked just like the Dutch boys; and it's very, very improper!" But just then it became evident that the molasses was boiled enough, for Barbara poured it into a large buttered platter, and set it out of doors to cool. After this, the children could do nothing but watch the candy till it was ready to pull. Then there was quite a bustle to find an apron for Horace, and to make sure that his little stained hands were "spandy clean," and "fluffed" all over with flour, from his wrists to the tips of his fingers. Grace said she wished it wasn't so much trouble to attend to boys; and, after all, Horace only pulled a small piece of the candy, and dropped half of that on the nice white floor. Barbara did the most of the pulling. She was quite a sculptor when she had plastic candy in her hands. Some of it she cut into sticks, and some she twisted into curious images, supposed to be boys and girls, horses and sheep. After Grace and Horace had eaten several of the "boys and girls," to say nothing of "handled baskets," and "gentlemen's slippers," Barbara thought it high time they were "sound abed and asleep."