"No," replied Mrs. Mackenzie. Her lips did not move, but her eyes smiled. "He's handsome," said Beatrice, dispassionately. "I've lived at all the posts--Fort Wayne, Detroit, and Fort Mackinac, and he's the best-looking soldier I've seen. I'd like to paint his picture, if he'd let me." "I'll ask him, dear; I think he'll let you." "Aunt Eleanor!" cried Beatrice, reproachfully. "Why not?" "Oh--because. Where are those soldiers going, Aunty?" Mrs. Mackenzie looked out of the window and saw half a dozen men in the boat belonging to the Fort, headed up-stream. "They're going fishing, I guess. I'll have to go away a little while this afternoon, Bee. Mrs. Burns is sick and she needs me--you won't mind, will you? I'll leave the table all set, and I'll surely be back before dark. Are you afraid to be left alone?" "No. I'm not afraid of anything; but where is Cousin Rob?" "He's teaching the children. They don't seem to get much time, someway, in the morning, so they begin right after dinner and study till supper time. I'm so glad to have Robert here--he's doing wonders with them." "He seems nice," said Beatrice, "and I like him. Can't I go with you, Aunt Eleanor?" "No, dear--somebody has to stay with the baby. He's asleep, though, and I don't think he'll trouble you." "I'll take care of him, Aunty. Don't fret about us." Nevertheless, the house seemed very lonely to Beatrice after Mrs. Mackenzie went away, and she roamed about restlessly. For a time she amused herself by examining the articles on the depleted shelves behind the counters, but the interest soon vanished. She could find nothing to read except a soiled and ragged copy of a paper three months old, which she had already seen at Fort Wayne. The murmur of voices from a distant room, reached her ears with sudden and attractive significance, and her face brightened. "I don't know as I should do it," she said to herself, but she went to the door and tapped softly. Robert opened it, in surprise, and Beatrice stepped into the room. "I've come to visit the school," she said. "Goody!" cried Johnny. She seated herself on the window ledge and smiled radiantly at the embarrassed teacher. Discipline had been difficult from the beginning, and the guest made matters worse. "Now, then, Johnny," Forsyth said, "what were we studying?" "Eight times three." "Yes, and how many are eight times three?" "Twenty----" "Twenty-one," said Beatrice. "Twenty-one," repeated Johnny, readily, with the air of one who has accomplished a difficult feat. Robert frowned and bit his lips. "Eight times three are twenty-four, Johnny. Write it ten times on your slate--that will help you to remember." "What a gift for teaching," murmured Beatrice. Robert flushed, but did not speak, and there was no sound in the room but the pencil scratching on the slate. "Cousin Rob?" "Yes, Johnny. What is it?" "Why, Cousin Bee just said eight times three were twenty-one. Did she tell a lie, or didn't she know?"