“They’re going to kiss you, Griselda,” cried the cuckoo.

Griselda felt her breath going.  Up above her was the vast feathery cloud of butterflies, fluttering, rushing down upon her.

“Cuckoo, cuckoo,” she screamed, “they’ll suffocate me.  Oh, cuckoo!”

“Shut your eyes, and clap your hands loud, very loud,” called out the cuckoo.

And just as Griselda clapped her hands, holding her precious handkerchief between her teeth, she heard him give his usual cry, “Cuckoo, cuckoo.”

Clap—­where were they all?

Griselda opened her eyes—­garden, butterflies, cuckoo, all had disappeared.  She was in bed, and Dorcas was knocking at the door with the hot water.

“Miss Grizzel said I was to wake you at your usual time this morning, missie,” she said.  “I hope you don’t feel too tired to get up.”

“Tired!  I should think not,” replied Griselda.  “I was awake this morning ages before you, I can tell you, my dear Dorcas.  Come here for a minute, Dorcas, please,” she went on.  “There now, sniff my handkerchief.  What do you think of that?”

“It’s beautiful,” said Dorcas.  “It’s out of the big blue chinay bottle on your auntie’s table, isn’t it, missie?”

“Stuff and nonsense,” replied Griselda; “it’s scent of my own, Dorcas.  Aunt Grizzel never had any like it in her life.  There now!  Please give me my slippers, I want to get up and look over my lessons for Mr. Kneebreeches before he comes.  Dear me,” she added to herself, as she was putting on her slippers, “how pretty my feet did look with the blue butterfly shoes!  It was very good of the cuckoo to take me there, but I don’t think I shall ever wish to be a butterfly again, now I know how hard they work!  But I’d like to do my lessons well to-day.  I fancy it’ll please the dear old cuckoo.”

CHAPTER VIII.

MASTER PHIL.

      “Who comes from the world of flowers? 
    Daisy and crocus, and sea-blue bell,
    And violet shrinking in dewy cell—­
    Sly cells that know the secrets of night,
    When earth is bathed in fairy light—­
      Scarlet, and blue, and golden flowers.”

And so Mr. Kneebreeches had no reason to complain of his pupil that day.

And Miss Grizzel congratulated herself more heartily than ever on her wise management of children.

And Miss Tabitha repeated that Sister Grizzel might indeed congratulate herself.

And Griselda became gradually more and more convinced that the only way as yet discovered of getting through hard tasks is to set to work and do them; also, that grumbling, as things are at present arranged in this world, does not always, nor I may say often, do good; furthermore, that an ill-tempered child is not, on the whole, likely to be as much loved as a good-tempered one; lastly, that if you wait long enough, winter will go and spring will come.