Meanwhile Susan flew screaming and leaping out into the garden in a mad tom-boy fashion; but that could well be pardoned, as there were only her sisters to see her; and the pleasure of having persevered and done her best was enough to make her heart and her limbs dance for merriment. Depend upon it, however wretched and miserable hard application to what we do not like may seem at the moment, it is the only way to make play-times really delicious. CHAPTER IX. MISS FOSBROOK soon knew what Mrs. Merrifield meant by saying that visits at the Park unsettled the children. Susan indeed, though liking anything that shortened lessons by an hour, and made a change, was not so fond of being on her good behaviour at the Park as to be greatly exalted at the prospect; but Elizabeth and Annie were changed beings. They were constantly breaking out with some new variety of wonder. They wondered whether they should dine in the school-room, or at Mrs. Greville’s luncheon; they wondered if Mr. Greville would speak to them; they wondered whether Fräulein Munsterthal would be cross; they wondered if Ida still played with dolls; and they looked as if they thought themselves wonderful, too, for going out for a day! Nay, the wonders were at their tongues’ end even when lessons began, and put their farthings in great peril; and when they had nothing else to wonder at, they wondered when it would be twelve o’clock, and took no pains to swallow enormous yawns. Once, over her copy, Elizabeth exclaimed, “Now! yes, this is necessary, Miss Fosbrook! May not we wear our white frocks?” “They are not ironed,” answered Susan. “Oh, do let me go and tell Mary! There’s lots of time,” said Bessie, who had lately thought it cruel of the clock to point only to half-past ten, and never bethought herself how Mary would like to be called off from her scrubbing to iron three white frocks. “Would your Mamma wish it?” asked Christabel. “Oh dear no,” was Susan’s answer; “we always wear clean ones of our every-day frocks. Our white ones are only for dinner-parties and Christmas-trees.” Bessie grumbled. “How cross! I hate those nasty old spotty cottons;” and Johnnie returned to the old story—“Little vain pussy-cat.” Up went Miss Fosbrook’s warning pencil, she shook her head, and held out her hand for two fines. Elizabeth began to gulp and sob. “Oh, don’t, Betty!” cried Susan. “Stop while you can. You won’t like going up with red eyes. There, I’ll pay your fine; and there’s another for my speaking.” “No, Susie; that was not foolish speaking, but kind words,” said Miss Fosbrook; “but no more now; go on, Annie.”