Charlie ran to the door, wondering very much what Mrs. Greenwell could have called about. She spoke a few kind, pleasant words to him, and asked to see his mother. Charlie ushered her into the best room, placed a chair for her with great state, closed the door quietly, and then hastened upstairs to find his mother, taking two stairs at a time, missing one, and coming down on his hands and knees in a lump. "Dear me, Charlie," said Mrs. Heedman, who had come in at the back door, and was standing at the foot of the stairs looking on in amazement at his extraordinary scrambling; "what ever are you doing? is it a mouse?" remembering he had once chased a mouse upstairs with much the same sort of noise. "A mouse! no, mother," said Charlie, coming down very mildly. "I wanted to tell you that Mrs. Greenwell is here, and waiting for you." Mrs. Greenwell's errand was to ask if Charlie could be spared to attend a Bible class at her house twice a week. As well as instruction in the Bible and catechism, she intended to read instructive books to them on different subjects: natural history, travels in foreign lands, English history, the lives of good and noble men who had risen from the working classes, and on many other subjects that would be interesting and give them a taste for reading. Charlie was younger than most of the boys she expected, but she knew he was more intelligent and thoughtful than the generality of boys of his age, principally because he had such good home training. Mrs. Heedman very gladly agreed for him to attend regularly. As for Charlie himself, his delight knew no bounds, especially when he heard that they were all to have tea, and spend the evening at Mrs. Greenwell's the next day. The moment she had left and the door was closed, Charlie broke into a dance of triumph round the room that would have done credit to a wild Indian, and kept it up so long that Jumper became seriously concerned: he stood at a safe distance, barking, as if asking for an explanation, or expostulating with his master; but Charlie only snapped his fingers at him, and went on with his dance. Poor Jumper thought it was an order to sit up, and sat up accordingly, but soon finding his mistake out he dropped his fore-feet disconsolately. At last, as if a bright thought had struck him, he made a sudden rush at poor puss, who was sitting very upright with her tail over her toes, gazing innocently at the fire, and I am sorry to say he caught her rather savagely by the ear. Jumper knew puss to be his own particular enemy, and whenever anything went wrong he always seemed to conclude that she must be at the bottom of it. This brought the dance of triumph to an end, much to Mrs. Heedman's satisfaction.