Late on Saturday evening, Mr. Hamilton arrived with a pale sad looking lady, whom he introduced as Miss Prosser. Aunt Matilda received her as a lady, but wilful little Madeline, with a cunning glance of her eye, extended her hand reluctantly, and saluted her as Miss Prosy. "Prosser, my dear," corrected the father. "Oh, yes, I forgot--Miss Prosser; do you give hard lessons, Miss Prosy?" continued the child. "I do not think that you will have any cause to complain, if you will only be diligent and obedient." "Those are two words which I have never been taught yet, Miss Prosy." "Prosser, my dear, Prosser," interrupted the father. "I hope that you will find Madeline all that you desire after awhile. She is a wild little girl now; lessons will be hard at first, and you must not keep her too close." Monday morning arrived, and Madeline was summoned to the library, where her studies were to be pursued. Miss Prosser was one of the rigid school of disciplinarians; and Madeline, with the quick instinct of a bright child, soon felt that there would never be any bond of union between herself and the sad lady, who appointed her daily tasks. The first hour passed tolerably, the second wearily, but the third, which introduced her wild imaginative mind to the severe discipline of arithmetic, was insufferable; and throwing down her book impatiently, she said, "I'm tired of this stuff; I can't do any more this day; good-bye, Miss Prosy," and away started the wild child, ere her governess could express her surprise. Running to her father, who was just going out to ride, she begged so bewitchingly to accompany him, that papa could not refuse her; and Miss Prosser had the mortification of seeing her out of the library window, galloping down the avenue on Selim, with her flat set jauntily upon her bright young head, and she, poor lady, mourning over her wilful scholar. "Really, my dear, you must not do this again; Miss Prosser will be offended." "I was so tired, dear papa; I felt as if I would smother in that warm room; and when she placed the multiplication table before me, I knew it was of no use to try; I shall never learn the horrid old thing, I know." Day after day, Madeline wearied the patience of her teacher. Sometimes, when it was her whim, she would apply herself most earnestly to some favorite exercise, and surprise her at the quickness with which she mastered even difficult lessons; but as to regular, systematic study, it was out of the question. Sometimes she would teaze Miss Prosser with endless questions. "Miss Prosy, why did you not get married? you are very good-looking," inquired the teazing child. "Miss Madeline, study that lesson, and don't spend your time in asking such foolish questions." "I'm not in the humor, Miss Prosy; I feel lazy; I'd much rather talk; and papa says he don't like me forced to study." "Don't you want to be an intelligent woman, Madeline?"