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Kyzie could bear no more. She ran and hid in the hammock and cried. They all thought she was to have a sort of play-school; did they? They were going just for fun. She must talk to mamma. Mamma thought the school was foolish business; but mamma always knew what ought to be done, and how to help do it.
Uncle James had often said to Aunt Vi: "Our Katharine is very much in earnest. I know you agree with me that "little Prudy's" eldest daughter is a golden girl!" The "play-school" closed a few days later, and it was Henry Small who received the medal for good spelling. He wasn't so much of a cry-baby nowadays and the boys had stopped calling him "Chicken Little."
At one of these, when the audience was watching a flight of rockets, Katharine heard two women not far away talking together. One of them asked: "Where's that little Dunlee girl, the one that keeps the play-school?" "Over there in the corner," replied the other, "She hasn't any hat on. She's sitting beside the girl with a cat in her lap." "Oh, is that the one? So young as that?
He hated to go to school, but he loved to play school; and when Johnny Robertson and he were not conducting a pompous, public funeral a certain oblong hat-brush, with a rosewood back, studded with brass tacks, serving as a coffin, in which lay the body of Henry Clay, Daniel Webster, or the Duke of Wellington, all of whom died when Johnny and The Boy were about eight years old they were teaching each other the three immortal and exceedingly trying "R's" reading, 'riting, and 'rithmetic in a play-school.
Well, she's a good girl, yes, she is. I guess she is a good girl," said the first speaker heartily. "My little Henry thinks there's nothing like her. He never learned much of anything till he went to that play-school. He never behaved so well as he does now, never gave me so little trouble at home. She's a good girl." A world of comfort fell on Kyzie.
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