Dorothy Dainty's Gay Times Part 9

"Like what? Like learning 'bout folks choppin' off other folks' heads?

Well, I guess it's so if my big brother says so," Reginald replied.

The girls did not believe it, but they could not deny it. They knew that Reginald _thought_ what he said was true, but they believed that, in some way, the facts had become twisted.

They were at the cottage door now, and as they entered Reginald whispered:

"You just see, Katie Dean! I tell you Bob knows!"

The early morning lessons were the same as usual, and the girls soon forgot what Reginald had said, and at recess there were so many games to be played that there was little time for talking.

It was after recess that the surprise came. The reading lesson had been unusually interesting, and instead of twenty minutes, it had occupied a half-hour.

When the readers were put aside, Aunt Charlotte said:

"Commencing to-morrow, we shall devote a half-hour to studying history.

You are all much younger than the pupils in the public schools who begin to study history, but we shall take it up in an easy, enjoyable way. I shall read to you from a finely written volume which I own, while you will try to write, from memory, what I have read."

"What did I tell you?" whispered Reginald. "_Now_ I guess you'll hear 'bout folks with their heads off!"

Katie put her hands over her ears, but Reginald's eyes were twinkling with delight. The girls would have to admit that his sc.r.a.p of news was true!

As they hastened down the long avenue after school, he again asked his question:

"Say, girls! What did I say?"

"You said we'd got to learn horrid things, and Aunt Charlotte didn't say so," said Mollie.

"I know she didn't, but Bob did, and you wait," was the quick reply.

"_I'll_ tell you something that you'd hardly believe, but it's _true_,"

said Mollie; "it's somebody that's coming right here to Merrivale to live."

"Is it somebody you know?" Dorothy asked.

Mollie laughed.

"Somebody we _all_ know," she said.

"Is she nice? Do we like her?" Nina questioned.

"I'll tell you who it is, and then you'll know whether you're glad or not," said Mollie. She had been walking backward, and in front of her playmates, and thus she could watch their faces. She looked at them an instant, then she said:

"It's--_Patricia Lavine_!"

The little group stood stock still, and it was quite evident that not one of the party was delighted.

Nancy was the first to speak.

"Are you _sure_, Mollie?" she asked.

"She said so," Mollie replied. "I was running across the lawn to call for Flossie, when I heard some one call:

"'Mollie! Mollie! Mollie Merton!'

"I turned, and there was Patricia running up the walk. You know she was always in a rush, and she's just the same now.

"'I can't stop but a minute,' she said, 'but I've just time to tell you that we've been hunting houses, and we're coming here to live. We've got a house right next to the big schoolhouse, and that's nice, for I wouldn't want to go to private school.'

"Then she ran off, just looking over her shoulder to say:

"'I've got to hurry, for I've an engagement, but I'll be over to see you all soon.'"

"I wish she _wouldn't_," said Reginald, stoutly.

"Perhaps she's pleasanter than when she lived here before," ventured Flossie, looking up into the faces of her playmates.

Dear little girl, the youngest of the group, she was ever ready to say a kind word for an absent playmate.

"She _looked_ just the same," said Mollie.

"If she said she was to live next to the big schoolhouse, that is just _miles_ from here," Jeanette said, "so she wouldn't be likely to come over here very often."

"'Tisn't any farther than where she lived before," said Nina, "and she came often enough then."

Aunt Charlotte had chosen wisely, when she had decided to interest her young pupils in history, by reading aloud from a volume in which the facts were set forth in story form, and there was one pupil who listened more intently than any of the others.

One glance at Reginald's earnest little face would have convinced any one that he was wildly interested.

His round, blue eyes never left Aunt Charlotte's face while she was reading. The story of Ponce de Leon's search for the fountain of youth was more exciting than any fairy tale that he had ever heard. He saw no pathos in the old Spaniard's useless search. The picture which the history painted for him showed only the little band of swarthy men following their handsome, white-haired leader through the wild, unexplored South, their picturesque, gaily colored costumes gleaming in the sunlight.

How brilliant the pageant! How brave, how valiant they must have appeared! Even the gorgeous wild flowers paled with chagrin as the bold, venturesome Spaniards trampled them underfoot as they marched steadily onward, hoping yet to find the crystal fountain which should grant to them eternal youth.

When Aunt Charlotte ceased reading, she said: "Now, take your pencils, and write all that you remember of what I have read."

How their pencils flew! In a short time their papers were ready, and the little pupils proved that they had been attentive, many of the sketches giving the story almost word for word. Of course the older girls had written most accurately, but a few lines which little Flossie Barnet had written showed her tender, loving heart.

"I'm sorry for the poor old Spanyard, for a fountane like that wouldn't be _anywhere_, so I wish he and his brave men had sailed across the sea and land to hunt for something that he could truly find."

Some faulty spelling, but no error in the loving, tender heart. The pathos of the story had touched her.

Reginald was but a few months older than Flossie, but he was not sensitive, and only the adventure, the beauty described appealed to him. He looked at Flossie in surprise when she had finished reading her little sketch, and wondered that she could see anything pathetic in the tale.

Then he rose to read his own effort at story-telling.

"They tramped and tramped for miles through the trees and swamps, and I'd like to have worn a red velvet coat and hunt for that fountane, for if we hadn't found it we'd have had a jolly hunt. I'd like to have worn a red velvet coat and a big hat with fethers on it, and a pare of boots with big tops to them. We could have tramped better with those big boots and all those fine things on."

A droll idea, truly. No wonder that the girls laughed at the vanity which Reginald had so innocently betrayed. "Where did you get your description of his costume?" Aunt Charlotte asked. She could not help smiling.