"Now, I suppose, aunty, that I am to be tied down to old musty books, slate, pencil and pen, and everlasting thrumming on the old piano--good-bye to the wild woods, and the sea-shore. I know I shall get sick; I always get sick over school-books; and then papa will have to send. Miss Prosy away; we'll see, that we will," tapping her little foot impatiently on the velvet carpet, and darting a quick mischievous glance at her aunt, she continued, "I'll make this house too warm for Miss Prosy. I tell you, aunty, she'll be glad to get rid of Madeline Hamilton before long," and tossing aside her ringlets, she dashed out of the room, humming a lively tune. Madeline sought her maid, Nanny, into whose ears she poured all her grievances. "Nanny, is it not too bad? There's papa gone off to Boston, to bring back some horrid old teacher to spoil all my fun. I expect she is tall and thin, and yellow and cross. I know I shan't like her; I never did like a teacher yet." "I'm real sorry, Miss Maddy, for I think you know more now than half of the little girls. You can say Cinderella, and can act Queen Elizabeth, and Queen Mary, and can make verses, and ever so much." Madeline was a shrewd child, and knew very well that such foolish things were of no manner of use to any little girl. She could not help smiling at Nanny's simplicity, and said, "Why, you see, Nanny, these things only amuse me. I know that there is a great deal more to learn, but I don't want to take the trouble." "Don't be afraid, miss; your papa won't make you learn if you don't want to; and if you don't like the teacher, I can help you to get her away." "That is a dear good Nanny; I'll give you a new dress, and pretty collar, if you'll only be my friend." "I know what to do, miss; if I tell your papa that you don't sleep well, and that you are getting pale, he'll think that you are going to be sick, and will send her away, I know." "Well, Nanny, I am not sick now. I feel as merry as a lark. Do you want to hear my little song, Nanny?" Dancing about the room, in a sweet clear voice, she commenced singing, Away, away to the woods for me, Away, away to the dear old sea; Away up the hills, and down the lanes, As I give to Selim the lightest reins. Then away we scamper in many a race, Giving old Hector a good wild chase; Books and slates are very good things, But Mad-cap would rather dance and sing. Away, away to the woods for me, Away, away to the dear old sea. "Did you really make up that song, Miss Maddy?" asked the wondering Nanny. Madeline burst out laughing as she replied, "Why, yes, Nanny, I often make up such little pieces." "Why, how do you do it, Miss Madeline?" "I don't know, Nanny; the words just come to me themselves." "Why sure! what a wonderful child! What's the use of getting a teacher; I guess Miss Prosser can't make verses." CHAPTER III. MADDY'S TRIUMPH.