"You would never guess," said Calista. "I don't know how to believe it myself." Calista spoke gayly. She felt in better spirits than she had done for a long time. Anything like a quarrel was always an annoyance to her; and she was very much pleased at having at last made friends with poor Miss Meeks. Then she had thoroughly enjoyed her hour and a half of teaching. Every one likes to be of use, not to say of consequence. The little girls had been very good and orderly. They had read and spelled well, and recited their small portion of Pinnock's "Catechism" without a mistake; and Calista had rewarded them with the story of King Alfred learning to read and afterward watching the cakes. She had a great talent for narration, and had the pleasure of seeing her small audience listening with rapt attention, and of hearing a universal cry of: "Oh, please, Miss Stanfield, go on. Tell us some more." She had promised another story "some time;" and had promised to tell Miss McPherson and Miss Meeks how good they had been. So teacher and pupils had parted with mutual satisfaction. "I am not good at guessing," said Mary. "Well—but don't look incredulous, however strange my tale may appear—I have been sitting upon the throne of Miss Meeks and wielding her sceptre for a full hour and a half. In other words, I have been keeping order and hearing lessons in the little school-room. I—even I, myself. Think of that!" Mary did think of it, and it did not please her. For the last year she had been used to being called upon to hear the little ones on emergencies; and though she was not fond of teaching, and often complained of the trouble, she did not dislike the consequence it gave her any more than did Calista. So it came to pass that there was some sharps in her tone as she said: "How in the world did that happen? I should say you were the last one in the school likely to be called on to help Miss Meeks. I thought you had a quarrel only this morning." "So we had, and that was exactly the way the wonderful event came to pass." "You must speak more plainly if you want me to understand you." "Well, it happened even so: Miss Meeks and I did have—well, not just a quarrel, but an outcome, as Miss Jessy says. It began with Antoinette in the first place, who called Miss Meeks to take her part, which she did, and scolded me as usual. I was vexed, and answered her back. Miss McPherson said I was rude—or, what was still worse, she made me say so,—" continued Calista, laughing and blushing—"and sent me to Miss Meeks's room to apologize. I found the poor thing very ill, and all but fainting away with a pain in her side, or something of the sort. She would not let me call any one, and I waited on her as well as I could, till she was better.