Lines to a Frinjed Water Foul I tear her teetered end side down! Dear Teacher. This is all I can remember of it though I liked the peace when Jim Thompson resited it. TOMMY. Undine Berry had no sense of humor, or this gem would have given her sufficient joy to last through the afternoon; she was only irritated that such dullness could exist in any human being. Had not the stirring lines of "Old Ironsides" been recited on three successive Fridays? Had not Jim Thompson roared, "Aye! tear her tattered ensign down!" with appropriate gestures and been loudly applauded? Had she not explained what an ensign was, and that "Ay" was pronounced like "I" and "Aye" like "A"? The teacher glanced out of the window now and then, noting in the distance a little cottage covered with vines and a somewhat-too-stout young man working in a flower garden. Some of the fragrant products of his growing were in a tumbler on her desk at the present moment, having been plucked by his own hand, tied neatly with twine, protected by a portion of the Lewiston _Journal_, and sent by the hand of the aforesaid Tommy, whose outward mien was respectful, but who declared in secret conclave that Matt Milliken was "stuck on teacher." Undine herself was distinctly aware of this fact, but she was so discreet, so impartial, in her treatment of Riverboro's masculine eligibles--above all, so uncertain of her own attitude in this particular matter--that the coupling of her name with that of Matt Milliken had never been heard, even by the school committee. "To be Mrs. Matthew Milliken is one thing," thought Undine as she moved her chair out of sight of the young gardener, who was doing more gazing than weeding, "but what would they say at home in Greenford if I married a farmer in a one-horse village? I wonder if he'd be able to keep a hired girl for me. If I had to cook three meals a day and wash dishes the rest of the time, I might as well teach school, though goodness knows that's a dog's life!--I'd like to put these compositions in the stove and set a match to them! Even after they are corrected, I've got to study three pages of geometry to keep ahead of Jim Thompson. The good scholars are a sight more trouble than the stupid ones, after all." She could bear her work no longer, and opening the desk to fling in the offending papers, she closed it with a bang, shook the dust of toil from her white dress, put on her broad-brimmed hat and white silk gloves, took a green parasol from the closet, locked the school door behind her thankfully, and strolled away on her homeward walk to Mrs. Wilkins's boarding-house.