“Never mind, my dear,” said Miss Fosbrook, “mammas always care for little girls’ letters, and you are quite right to keep a penny for your stamp for her.—You see, Hal, this scheme will never come to good if you sacrifice other duties to it.” Henry twirled round impatiently. “Now suppose,” said Miss Fosbrook, “that we set up a treasury, and put all in that we can properly afford, and then break it open on the day before the fair, and see how much we have.” “Oh! yes, yes,” cried the children in raptures. “Will you help, Miss Fosbrook?” said Susan, clasping her hands. “I should like to do a very little, if you will take this silver threepenny; but I do not think it would be right for me to spare one penny more, for all I can afford is very much wanted at home.” “What shall we have for treasury?” said Hal, looking round. “I know!” cried Susan. “Here, in the baby-house; here’s the Toby, let’s put it inside him.” The so-called baby-house was an old-fashioned cupboard with glass doors, where certain tender dolls, and other curiosities, playthings too frail to be played with and the like, were ranged in good order, and never taken out except when some one child was unwell, and had to stay in-doors alone. Toby Fillpot was a present from Nurse Freeman. It was a large mug, representing a man with a red coat, black hat, and white waistcoat, very short legs, and top-boots. The opening of the cup was at the top of his head, and into this was dropped all the silver and pence at present mustered, and computed to be about four shillings. “And, Miss Fosbrook, you’ll not be cross about fines?” said Johnnie, looking coaxing. “I hope I shall not be cross,” she answered; “but I do not engage to let you off any. I think having so good a use to put your money to should make you more careful against forfeiting it.” “Yes,” said Johnnie disconsolately. “Well, I never get fined,” cried Hal joyfully. “Except for running up stairs in dirty shoes,” said Sam. “Oh! there’s no dirt now.” “Let me see, what are the fines?” said Miss Fosbrook. “Here’s the list,” said Susan; and sighing, she said, “I’m afraid I shall never do it! If Bessie only would help!” The fines of the Stokesley schoolroom were these for delinquencies—each value a farthing— For being dressed later than eight o’clock. For hair not properly brushed. For coming to lessons later than five minutes after ten. For dirty hands. For being turned back twice with any lesson. For elbows on the table. For foolish crying. For unnecessary words in lesson-time. For running up stairs in wet shoes. For leaving things about. Each of these bits of misbehaviour caused the forfeit of a farthing out of the weekly allowance. Susan looked very gloomy over them; but Hal exclaimed, “Never mind, Susie; we’ll do it all without you, never fear!” “And now,” said Sam, “I vote we have some fun in the garden.”