Jane may have tried it or he may not. He preferred a different sort of misbehavior; it was especial balm to his soul to be thought to be misbehaving and then to prove that he was not, for that was a joke on the teacher which was apt, for reasons unknown, to make him hopping mad, and Jane's end seemed to have been attained when he had made the teacher hopping mad. He was apt to appear to be very inattentive in class, thinking--but I do not know what he was thinking. Even Mr. MacDalie was deceived occasionally. Jane would be sitting, looking out of the window, perhaps, with his book face down beside him, while the Latin translation dragged by painful jerks along the other end of the class. Mr. MacDalie would have noted Jane's attitude, as he noted everything, and would call upon him suddenly and, as he supposed, unexpectedly. And Jane would take up his book, deliberately, and, rising, begin at the very word and give a beautiful and fluent translation until he was stopped. Sally saw that happen four times that half-year. The last time, the principal smiled broadly and lowered his book. "Well, Eugene," he said,--he almost called him "Jane,"--"you fooled me nicely. That translation was very nearly perfect." "Thank you, sir," Jane replied gravely; and he sat down and placed his book, face down again, upon the bench beside him and resumed his gazing out of the window. One day during Dick's Christmas vacation there was a great sleighing party. There was no reason in the world why Sally should have expected to be asked or wanted to be. She told herself so, many times; but she was disappointed, grievously. Mr. Hazen saw it,--any one could see it plainly,--and, because he could not bear that Sally should feel so, he asked her if she wouldn't oblige him by going sleighing with him. And because she couldn't bear to disappoint Uncle John, Sally went. She was grateful to him, too. So it happened that two people, who would have much preferred going anywhere on their own feet, were wrapped in a buffalo robe,--one of the last of them; a robe of which Mr. Hazen was very proud,--and, thus protected against the cold, were being drawn easily behind the stout horse. At the bottom of her heart, Sally despised sleighing only a degree less than she despised driving in a carriage. She thought she should like riding, but of riding a horse she knew nothing. She had never in her life been on a horse's back. As for sleighing, she thought, as they drove along, that they might as well be in her room, sitting in a seat that was not wide enough for two, with a buffalo robe tucked around their knees. With the window wide open and bells jingled rhythmically before them and an occasional gentle bounce, the effect would not be so very different. As she thought of this, she began to chuckle at the humor of it. You may not see any humor in the idea, but Sally did.