"Show him in quick," demanded Constance, determined to bring the affair to a show-down on the spot. As the door swung open, Warrington looked at the group in unfeigned surprise. "Mr. Warrington," greeted Constance without giving any of the others a chance, "this morning, I heard a little conversation up here. Floretta, will you go into the little room, and on the top shelf you will find a bottle.

She smiled around from the foot of her curving class, and never had her lessons, but she never disobeyed the rules, except that of punctuality. Floretta was late at school. She came daintily up the aisle, two cheap bangles on one wrist slipping over a slim hand, and tinkling. Floretta's mother had a taste for the cheaply decorative.

At this moment his eye, lowered in his confusion, fell on the shapely white arm and delicate hand that curled round his elbow like a tender vine, and it flashed across him how he had just seen that lovely limb employed on Floretta. He trembled and blushed. "Alas!" said the princess, "I scare him. Am I then so very terrible? Is it my Roman robe?

This little girl's wisp of brown braid was tied with a shoe-string, and she looked poorer than any other child in the school, but she had an honest light in her eyes, and Ellen considered her to be rather more beautiful than Floretta. She was Maria Atkins, Joseph Atkins's second child. Ellen sat with her book before her, and the strange, new atmosphere of the school-room stole over her senses.

She watched her coming, planting each foot as carefully and precisely as a bird, her lace frills flouncing up and down, her bangles jingling, and thought how very pretty she was. Ellen felt herself very loving towards the teacher and Floretta Vining.

Send for your colours now quick, this moment for love of all the saints." "Nay, signorina, I must prepare them. I could come at the same time." "So be it. And you, Floretta, see that he be admitted at all hours. Alack! Leave my head! leave my head!" "Forgive me, Signora; I thought to prepare it at home to receive the colours. But I will leave it. And now let us despatch the letter."

Once, going with Abby Atkins and Floretta in search of early spring flowers, Ellen had lingered and let them go out of sight, and had sat down on a springing mat of wintergreen leaves under the windy outstretch of a great pine, and had remained there quite deaf to shrill halloos.

A King Solomon down here in Orham would be an awful lonesome cuss." Upon a late September day forty-nine years and some months before that upon which Gabe Bearse came to Jed Winslow's windmill shop in Orham with the news of Leander Babbitt's enlistment, Miss Floretta Thompson came to that village to teach the "downstairs" school. Miss Thompson was an orphan.

She could love Abby Atkins and Floretta Vining at one bite, as it were, and that was the end of it, but she could sit and ponder and dream over Miss Mitchell and her mother, and see whole vistas of them in receding mirrors of affection. As for the teacher and her mother, they simply adored the child as indeed everybody did.

"Signora, it ill becomes me to school you; but methinks such as Heaven appoints to govern others should govern themselves." "That is true, Gerardo. How wise you are, to be so young." She then called the other maid, and gave her a little purse. "Take that to Floretta, and tell her 'the Gerardo' hath interceded for her; and so I must needs forgive her. There, Gerardo."