a staid and well-known step was heard on the stairs. It was that of the younger Miss Smythe. "What shall we do with the pie?"
"Put it on the top of the bed," said one of the girls. Mabel jumped up, placed it rapidly on the bed head, and when Miss Smythe entered, all was seeming sleep and quiet. Her unexpected visit urned out to be one of great length: a press stood in the room, and its whole contenst that night were put to rights. All were too sleepy when their governess departed to even think of the pie.
The next morning, an exclamation of horror from Mabel awoke all the girls. The pie, turned upside down in the scuffle, had let all its juice run through on the bed—the pretty French bed, white as snow, on which the Misses Smythes so prided themselves—the furniture was utterly spoiled. In the midst of their dismay, and their unkindly reproaches to Mabel, who was called "such a stupid awkward thing," one of the teachers entered. The alarm was given, and Miss Smythe's anger at its height. The next day, when Mr. Dacre called to take Mabel home for the holidays, he was told that his grandaughter was quite incorrigible, and really required severer discipline than was practised
