But then perceiving that something was the matter with her word, Susan sat and looked at it, till at last, perceiving that her _u_ and _o_ had changed places, she tried putting a top to the _u_, and made it like an _a_; while the filling up the _o_ made it become a blot, such as caught Bessie’s eye. “O Susie, you won’t send such a thing as that up to Ida?” “No—that _would_ be a ‘horrible note,’” said her governess; and she ruled the lines again. “Dear me,” said Susan impatiently; “can’t one send a message up by the man that we’ll all come, without this fuss?” But Miss Fosbrook said that would be very uncivil; and Susan, groaning, stretched every finger till the lines were finished, and began again, in her scraggy round-hand—getting safely through the “should,” and also through “like to come very much;” but when Miss Fosbrook looked up next, she saw that the rest of the note consisted of— Mamma is at Grandmamma’s, No. 12,—St., Grovensor Place. I am your affectionate SUSANNA MERRIFIELD. “My dear, I am very sorry.” “What! won’t that do?” sighed Susan, beginning to get into despair. Miss Fosbrook pointed to the word “Grovensor.” “Oh dear! oh dear! I thought I had got that tiresome word this time. Why can’t it put its _ss_ and _ns_ into their proper sensible places?” cried poor Susan, to whom it was a terrible enemy. She used to try them in different places all the way round, in hopes that one might at last be right. “Can’t you remember what I told you, that the first Grosvenor was the grand huntsman? _Grosveneur_ in French; that would show you where to put the _s—gros_, great.” But Susan never wished to remember anything French; and Sam observed that “the man deserved to be spelt wrong if he called himself by a French name. Why couldn’t he be content to be Mr. Grandhunter?” “But as he is not, we must spell his name right, or Mrs. Greville will be shocked,” said Miss Fosbrook. “Please can’t you scratch it out?” said the disconsolate Susan. “_I_ should not like to send a note with a scratch in it. Besides, yours is hardly civil.” “No, indeed,” said Elizabeth; “don’t you know how people answer invitations, Susie? I’ll tell you. ‘Miss Susanna, and Miss Elizabeth, and Miss Annie Merrifield will be very happy to do the honour of dining with —’ Sam, why do you laugh at me always?” “Why, you are telling Ida you will do her honour by dining with her.” “People always do honour when they dine,” said Elizabeth. “I know they do.” “They profess to receive the honour, not confer it, Bessie,” said Miss Fosbrook, laughing; “but I don’t think that is the model for Susie’s note. It would be as much too formal as hers was too blunt.” “Must I do it again?” said Susan. “I had rather not go, if it is to be such a plague.”