“Have you quarreled?  You would’nt explain that scene in the parlor the other day, when I made him tie my shoe.  You have quarreled!”

“Oh, no—­no!”

“I’m glad to hear it,” cried Fanny, “though I could easily have made it up.  I would have gone to Mr. Verty, and told him that he was a wretch, or something of that sort, and made him come and be friends again.”

Redbud smiled, and said: 

“We have not quarreled; but I don’t think I shall be able to amuse him very much, if he comes this morning, as I think he will.  Please promise me—­I don’t like Verty to be unhappy.”

And the ingenuous face of the young girl was covered with blushes.

“I suppose not!—­you and Verty are very good friends!” cried Fanny, looking out of the window, and not observing Redbud’s confusion; “but suppose my cavalier comes—­what then, madam?”

“Oh, then I absolve you.”

“No, indeed!”

“‘No, indeed’ what?”

“I won’t be absolved.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t know but I prefer Mr. Verty to that conceited cousin of mine.”

“What cousin—­not Ralph?”

“Yes; I don’t fancy him much.”

“I thought you were great favorites of each other.”

“You are mistaken!” said Fanny, coloring; “I did like him once, but he has come back from college at Williamsburg a perfect coxcomb, the most conceited fop I ever saw.”

“Oh, Fanny!”

“Yes, indeed he has!”

And Miss Fanny blushed.

“I hate him!” she added, with a pout; then bursting into a fit of laughter, this young lady added: 

“Oh! he promised to bring his album to-day, and show me all the ’good wishes’ his friends wrote in it for him.  Won’t that be funny!  Just think of finding out how those odious young college geese talk and feel toward each other.”

Redbud smiled at Miss Fanny’s consistency, and was about to reply, when the bell for prayers rang.

The two young girls rose, and smoothing their hair slowly, descended, arm in arm, and still conversing, to the dining-room, where old Scowley, as Verty called her, and Miss Sallianna, awaited them, in state, with their scholars.

Prayer was succeeded by breakfast; and then—­the young damsels having eaten with the most unromantic heartiness—­the whole school scattered:  some to walk toward “town;” others to stroll by the brook, at the foot of the hill; others again to write letters home.

As Miss Sallianna had informed Verty, that day was a holiday, and young ladies going to school have, in all ages of the world, appreciated the beauties and attractions of this word, and what it represents—­recreation, that is to say.

Redbud and Fanny strolled out in the garden with their arms locked as before, and the merry autumn sunshine streaming on them.

They had a thousand things to talk about, and we may be sure that they did not neglect the opportunity.  What do not young ladies at school discuss?  Scarcely anything escapes, and these criticisms are often very trenchant and severe.