Once, over her copy,
Elizabeth exclaimed, "Now! yes, this is necessary, Miss Fosbrook!
May not we wear our white frocks?"
"They are not ironed," answered Susan.
"Oh, do let me go and tell Mary! There's lots of time," said Bessie,
who had lately thought it cruel of the clock to point only to half-
past ten, and never bethought herself how Mary would like to be
called off from her scrubbing to iron three white frocks.
"Would your Mamma wish it?" asked Christabel.
"Oh dear no," was Susan's answer; "we always wear clean ones of our
every-day frocks. Our white ones are only for dinner-parties and
Christmas-trees."
Bessie grumbled. "How cross! I hate those nasty old spotty
cottons;" and Johnnie returned to the old story--"Little vain pussy-
cat."
Up went Miss Fosbrook's warning pencil, she shook her head, and held
out her hand for two fines. Elizabeth began to gulp and sob.
"Oh, don't, Betty!" cried Susan. "Stop while you can. You won't
like going up with red eyes. There, I'll pay your fine; and there's
another for my speaking."
"No, Susie; that was not foolish speaking, but kind words," said Miss
Fosbrook; "but no more now; go on, Annie.
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