"I don't think any thing _about_ it," says Miss Purdie, with a stamp of her little foot. "That _stu_-pid question of yours! _How_ often have I told you not to use it?" Very like a little bird, Miss Purdie, with her sharp little glances, with her nimble little hops to and fro, and with her perky little cockings of the head on this side and the other as she encourages an answer. "Now the grammar lesson and I hope you've both prepared it. Gender of nouns. Masculine, Govern-_or_. Feminine?" "Govern-_ess_," venture the boys, a trifle apprehensively. "Good boys! Masculine, Sorcer-er. Feminine?" "Sorcer-_ess_," says the chorus, gathering courage. "Masculine, Cater-_er_. Feminine?" "Cater-_ess_," bawls the chorus, thoroughly enjoying itself. "_Not_ so loud! Masculine, Murder-_er_. Feminine?" "Murder-_ess_," howls the chorus, recklessly delighted. "Good boys! Now be careful! Prosecutor? Take time over it. Masculine, Prosecut-_or_. Feminine?" "Prosecutr-_ess_!" thunders the chorus, plunging to destruction on the swing of the thing; and "Oh, you _stu_-pids! you _stu_-pids!" cries Miss Purdie. "You intol-er-able _stu_-pids!" and the unhappy chorus hangs its head and cowers beneath the little storm it has let loose. Delightfully appreciative, though, Miss Purdie, when the "break" of ten minutes comes and when the boys gorge plum-cake and milk and make her positively quiver with recitals of the terrible gallops on the pony; and delightfully concerned, too, when, as happens once or twice, Rollo is discovered to have a headache and is made to lie on the sofa in a rug and with a hot-water bottle, while the lessons are continued with Percival in fierce whispers and hissed "_stu_-pids." Delightfully inconsequent, moreover, Miss Purdie, who at the end of an especially exasperating morning, when Hunt is heard with the pony outside the gate, will suddenly cry: "Well, _go_ away then, you thorough little _stu_-pids; _go_ away!" and will drive them to the door and then at once will go into ecstatics over the pony and hurry Percival in for sugar, and quake with terror while the pony nibbles it from her hand, and stand and wave at her gate while they go flying down the road, one in the saddle, the other gasping behind. Delightfully appreciative, Miss Purdie, and they learn to love her for all their terrible fear of her.