"I should think it was," Pliny answered, laughing a little though at Tode's tone. "I've a confounded sick headache, that's what's the matter." "Pliny!" Mrs. Hastings said, rebukingly. "Oh bother, mother! Excruciating headache then, if that suits you better. Tode, have you seen Ben to-day?" "Not a sign of him. Couldn't think what had become of you two. You're as thick as hops, ain't you?" Pliny glanced uneasily at his mother, but a summons to the parlor relieved him, and the three were left alone. Dora returned to her writing, and her small fingers glided swiftly over the page. Tode watched her with wondering and admiring eyes. "Be you writing?" he exclaimed at last. "Why, yes," said Dora. "Don't you see I am?" "How old be you?" "I'm eleven years old. You never studied grammar, did you?" "And you know how to write?" "Why, yes," said Dora again, this time laughing merrily. "I've known how more than a year." Tode's answer was grave and thoughtful: "I'm fifteen." "Are you, though?" said Pliny. "That's just my age." "And can't _you_ write?" questioned Dora. "Me?" said Tode, growing gleeful over the thought. "I shouldn't think I could." "Aren't you ever going to learn?" "Never thought of it. Is it fun? No, I don't suppose I'll ever learn. Yes, I will, too. You learn me, will you?" "How could I? Do you mean it? Do you truly want to learn? Dear me! I never could teach you; mamma wouldn't allow it." For an answer Tode stepped boldly forward, deterred by no feeling of impropriety, and looked over the little lady's shoulder at the round fair letters. "What's that?" he asked, pointing to the first letter of a sentence. "That is T; capital T. Why, that's the very first letter of your name." "I don't see anything capital about it; it twists around like a snake. What do you curl it all up like that for?" "Why, that's the way to make it. Mamma says I make a very pretty letter T, and it's a capital because--because--Oh, Pliny, why is it a capital?" "Because it is," answered Pliny, promptly. "Oh yes," said Tode, quickly. "Course that's the reason. Queer we didn't think of it." Then to Dora. "Let's see you snarl that thing around." Dora quickly and skillfully obeyed. "Do it again, and don't go so like lightning. How can a fellow tell what you're about?" So more slowly, and again and again was the feat repeated until at last Tode seized hold of the pen as he said: "Let me have a dab at the fellow; see if I can draw him." "Why, you do it real well. Really and truly he does, Pliny," said the delighted Dora. "But do you know there are two t's?" she added, turning again to her pupil. "One has a cross to it, just so. You make a straight mark with a little crook to it; then you cross it, _so_."