I cannot help thinking that Captain Howard made a mistake in sending Carrie away; for when at the end of three years she had “finished her education,” and returned home, she was not half so good a scholar as some of those who had pored patiently over their books in the old brown house.  Even I could beat her in spelling, for soon after she came home the boys teased for a spelling school.  I rather think they were quite as anxious for a chance to go home with the girls as they were to have their knowledge of Webster tested.  Be that as it may, Carrie was there, and was, of course, chosen first; but I, “little crazy Jane,” spelled the the whole school down!  I thought Carrie was not quite so handsome as she might be, when with an angry frown she dropped into her seat, hissed by a big, cross-eyed, red-haired boy, in the corner, because she happened to spell pumpkin, “p-u-n pun k-i-n kin, punkin.”  I do not think she ever quite forgave me for the pert, loud way in which I spelled the word correctly, for she never gave any more calicos or silks, and instead of calling me “Mollie,” as she had before done, she now addressed me as “Miss Mary.”

Carrie possessed one accomplishment which the other girls did not.  She could play the piano most skilfully, although as yet she had no instrument.  Three weeks, however, after her return a rich man, who lived in the village which was known as “Over the River,” failed, and all his furniture was sold at auction.  Many were the surmises of my grandmother, on the morning of the sale, as to what “Cap’n Howard could be going to buy at the vandue and put in the big lumber wagon,” which he drove past our house.

As the day drew to a close I was posted at the window to telegraph as soon as “Cap’n Howard’s” white horses appeared over the hill.  They came at last, but the long box in his wagon told no secret.  Father, however, explained all, by saying that he had bid off Mr. Talbott’s old piano for seventy dollars!  Grandma shook her head mournfully at the degeneracy of the age, while sister Anna spoke sneeringly of Mr. Talbott’s cracked piano.  Next day, arrayed in my Sunday red merino and white apron—­a present from some cousin out West—­I went to see Carrie; and truly, the music she drew from that old piano charmed me more than the finest performances since have done.  Carrie and her piano were now the theme of every tongue, and many wondered how Captain Howard could afford to pay for three years’ music lessons; but this was a mystery yet to be solved.

CHAPTER III.

MONSIEUR PENOYER.

When Carrie had been at home about three months all Rice Corner one day flew to the doors and windows to look at a stranger, a gentleman with fierce mustaches, who seemed not at all certain of his latitude, and evidently wanted to know where he was going.  At least, if he didn’t, they who watched him did.