"Well, it was a little hard at first," she answered, "for boys and girls of ten and twelve have surprisingly keen intuitions, and it seemed to me they made a study of my face from the first and concluded I was soft-hearted. I had one little boy that was a born mischief-maker, but he had such winsome ways I had to love him in spite of it. But he had to be punished some way, and so one day I kept him after school and then told him I must whip him hard, but not at that time. I explained to him what I was going to punish him for, 'but,' I said, 'I shall not do it to-night. I may do it to-morrow or the day after, but I will not tell you when the whipping is to come until I am ready to do it.' My little plan was a success, for the next night he waited till all the rest had gone, and then came to me with tears in his eyes, and begged me to whip him then. I didn't, though, and told him I wouldn't until he disobeyed again. He has been the most obedient boy in the school ever since. There is one little girl who has won my heart, though, in the oddest way you can imagine. The day I received your letter, Bert, I was so happy that the school ran riot, and I never knew it. They must have seen it in my face, I think. Well, when school was out, this girl, a shy little body of ten, sidled up to my desk and said, 'Pleath may I kith you, teacher, 'fore I go home?' It was such an odd and pretty bit of feeling, it nearly brought tears to my eyes." "I should like to give that little girl a box of candy, Miss Page," observed Frank, "and then ask her for a kiss myself." For an hour Alice kept both the young men interested in her anecdotes of school-teaching, and then her brother said: "Come, sis, you must sing some, or no box to-night!" "Well," she replied, smiling, "what shall it be? a few gems from Moody and Sankey, or from 'Laurel Leaves'?" And then turning to Frank she added: "My brother just dotes on church music!" "Alice," said her brother with mock sternness, "if you fib like that you know the penalty!" "Do you play or sing, Mr. Nason?" she inquired, not heeding her brother. "I do not know one note from another," he answered. "Well, that is fortunate for me," she said; "I only sing a few old-fashioned ballads, and help out at church." Then without further apology she went to the piano. "Come, Bertie," she said, "you must help me, and we will go through the College Songs." And go through them they did, beginning with "Clementine" and ending with "The Quilting Party." "Now, sis," said her brother, "I want 'Old Folks at Home,' 'Annie Laurie,' 'Rock-a-bye,' and 'Ben Bolt,' and then I'll open the box."