In the afternoon, as Miss Meeks had her hands full with the sole care of the great school-room (Miss Jessy being occupied with the care of her aunt), she sent Calista again to take charge of the little girls and their sewing, giving her permission to choose any one she pleased to help her. Calista chose Mary Settson, of course, and they had a pleasant afternoon. As she observed Mary's manner with the children, she could not but own that Miss Meeks was right, sad that Mary was not cut out for a teacher. Mary had a way with her that was not encouraging. She set a copy or gave instructions in knitting with a tone and manner which seemed to say,— "Well, there it is, but I have not the least idea that you will do it right. I have no doubt you will blot the writing and pucker the seam, and drop half the stitches at least." Calista, on the contrary, was always certain things would be done well, or, if they did not succeed the first time, that they would infallibly do so with a little more practice. The children felt the difference, and so did Mary herself, and it cost her a hard fight with her besetting enemy. But those who were for her were more than those who were against her, and she was able to say to Miss Meeks honestly, and without a quaver in her voice— "Calista manages beautifully, Miss Meeks. I think she would make an excellent teacher in our Sunday-school, if we get one up." "I dare say," replied Miss Meeks. "Well, Miss Stanfield and Miss Settson, I am much obliged to you." "Please, Miss Meeks, may I go up and see Tessy?" asked Calista. "You may go, but do not stay long. I think she is a little disposed to be feverish." "Will you go, Mary?" "I think not. I have a bit of work to finish. I will be ready to go out with you when you come down." Calista found Tessy bolstered up on her little bed, with her French dictionary and a volume of fairy tales which belonged to Miss Jessy, and was only lent as a special favor. She looked pale and suffering, but welcomed her visitor cheerfully. "And what is going on down stairs?" asked Tessy, presently. "I thought I heard one of the girls say something about Mary Burns being in trouble. The old story of mislaying her things, I suppose?" "Well, yes, partly; it all grows out of that," answered Calista, determined not to be the first to tell of what she believed to be Mary Burns's undeserved disgrace. "I don't think it would have come to much if Miss McPherson had been about; but you know people make mountains out of mole-hills sometimes." "Yes, and the mountain sometimes brings forth a ridiculous mouse." "I suspect the mouse in this case will be ridiculous enough," said Calista. "But, Tessy, what made your ankle so much worse all at once? I thought it was almost well." "It was a great deal better," answered Tessy, blushing. "I suppose I walked too much and too fast." "That is to say, you half killed yourself, as usual, running to wait on Antoinette," said Calista.