"Tell her you won't go till she has it right," said Sam; at which Annie made a vehement outcry of "No, no!" such as made them all laugh at her thinking him in earnest.

Susan's note began -

My dear Ida,

We shuold -

But then perceiving that something was the matter with her word, Susan sat and looked at it, till at last, perceiving that her u and o had changed places, she tried putting a top to the u, and made it like an a; while the filling up the o made it become a blot, such as caught Bessie's eye.

"O Susie, you won't send such a thing as that up to Ida?"

"No--that WOULD be a 'horrible note,'" said her governess; and she ruled the lines again.

"Dear me," said Susan impatiently; "can't one send a message up by the man that we'll all come, without this fuss?"

But Miss Fosbrook said that would be very uncivil; and Susan, groaning, stretched every finger till the lines were finished, and began again, in her scraggy round-hand--getting safely through the "should," and also through "like to come very much;" but when Miss Fosbrook looked up next, she saw that the rest of the note consisted of -

Mamma is at Grandmamma's, No. 12, St., Grovensor Place.

I am your affectionate SUSANNA MERRIFIELD.

"My dear, I am very sorry."

"What! won't that do?" sighed Susan, beginning to get into despair.

Miss Fosbrook pointed to the word "Grovensor."

"Oh dear! oh dear! I thought I had got that tiresome word this time.

Why can't it put its ss and ns into their proper sensible places?"

cried poor Susan, to whom it was a terrible enemy. She used to try them in different places all the way round, in hopes that one might at last be right.

"Can't you remember what I told you, that the first Grosvenor was the grand huntsman? Grosveneur in French; that would show you where to put the s--gros, great."

But Susan never wished to remember anything French; and Sam observed that "the man deserved to be spelt wrong if he called himself by a French name. Why couldn't he be content to be Mr. Grandhunter?"

"But as he is not, we must spell his name right, or Mrs. Greville will be shocked," said Miss Fosbrook.

"Please can't you scratch it out?" said the disconsolate Susan.

"_I_ should not like to send a note with a scratch in it. Besides, yours is hardly civil."

"No, indeed," said Elizabeth; "don't you know how people answer invitations, Susie? I'll tell you. 'Miss Susanna, and Miss Elizabeth, and Miss Annie Merrifield will be very happy to do the honour of dining with--' Sam, why do you laugh at me always?"

"Why, you are telling Ida you will do her honour by dining with her."

"People always do honour when they dine," said Elizabeth. "I know they do."

"They profess to receive the honour, not confer it, Bessie," said Miss Fosbrook, laughing; "but I don't think that is the model for Susie's note. It would be as much too formal as hers was too blunt."

"Must I do it again?" said Susan. "I had rather not go, if it is to be such a plague."

"Indeed, I fear you must, Susie. It is quite needful to learn how to write a respectable note; really a more difficult thing than writing a long letter. I am sorry for you; but if you were not so careless in your letters to Mamma this would come more easily to you."

But this time Miss Fosbrook not only ruled another sheet, but wrote, in fair large-hand on a slate, the words, that Susan might copy them without fresh troubles:

We are much obliged to your Mamma for her kind invitation, and shall have much pleasure in coming with Miss Fosbrook to dine with you and spend the day. I am sorry to say that Mamma was not quite so well when last we heard. Her address is--No. 12,--St., Grosvenor-place.

Susan thought that here were a very serious number of words, and begged hard for leave to leave out her sorrow. Of course she was sorry, but what was the use of telling Ida so?

Miss Fosbrook thought it looked better, but Susan might do as she pleased.

"I wouldn't say it, then," said Sam. "I wouldn't say it only to look better to Ida." With which words he and Hal walked off to the garden.

Would it be believed? Susan, in her delight at being near the end, forgot the grand huntsman, and made the unlucky Place "Grovesnor,"

and then, in her haste to mend it, put her finger into the wet ink, and smeared not only that word, but all the line above!

It was a shame and a wonder that a girl of her age should be so incapable of producing a creditable note; and Miss Fosbrook was very near scolding her but she had pity on the tearful eyes and weary fingers, and spoke cheerfully: "There, that was almost the thing.

One more trial, Susan, and you need never be afraid of Ida's notes again."

If Susan could not write notes, at least she was not cross; and it would be well if many who could send off a much better performance with far less difficulty could go to work as patiently as she did, without one pettish word to Miss Fosbrook, though that lady seemed to poor Susie as hard a task mistress as if she could have helped it.

This time Miss Fosbrook authorized the leaving out of the spending the day, and suggested that S. would be enough without the whole Susanna, and she mercifully directed the cover to Miss Greville.

"There, my dear, you have worked hard for your pleasure," she said, as Susan extended each hand to its broadest stretch to uncramp them, and stretched herself backwards as if she wanted to double her head down to her heels. "I shall give you a good mark, Susie, as if it had been a lesson."

Susan deserved it, for her patient perseverance had been all out of obedience, not in the mere desire of having her note admired.

Indeed, good child, at the best it was a very poor affair for a girl of twelve, and Miss Fosbrook was ashamed of it when she looked at Ida's lady-like little billet.

"But I wonder," said she to herself, "whether I shall feel as if I would change my dear stupid Susan for Miss Ida?"

Meanwhile Susan flew screaming and leaping out into the garden in a mad tom-boy fashion; but that could well be pardoned, as there were only her sisters to see her; and the pleasure of having persevered and done her best was enough to make her heart and her limbs dance for merriment.

Depend upon it, however wretched and miserable hard application to what we do not like may seem at the moment, it is the only way to make play-times really delicious.

CHAPTER IX.

Miss Fosbrook soon knew what Mrs. Merrifield meant by saying that visits at the Park unsettled the children. Susan indeed, though liking anything that shortened lessons by an hour, and made a change, was not so fond of being on her good behaviour at the Park as to be greatly exalted at the prospect; but Elizabeth and Annie were changed beings. They were constantly breaking out with some new variety of wonder. They wondered whether they should dine in the school-room, or at Mrs. Greville's luncheon; they wondered if Mr. Greville would speak to them; they wondered whether Fraulein Munsterthal would be cross; they wondered if Ida still played with dolls; and they looked as if they thought themselves wonderful, too, for going out for a day!

Nay, the wonders were at their tongues' end even when lessons began, and put their farthings in great peril; and when they had nothing else to wonder at, they wondered when it would be twelve o'clock, and took no pains to swallow enormous yawns. Once, over her copy, Elizabeth exclaimed, "Now! yes, this is necessary, Miss Fosbrook!