“MY DEAR CHILD: This shall be a receipt in full for all expenses, during whatever time you may choose to remain in the seminary. This I present you as a sincere token of my love and respect.
They found her at dinner time on the floor, surrounded by her new treasures, crying-like a baby; but it did her good. She was soon able to begin her studies once more, and was ever afterward treated with kindness and consideration, even though all her hair came out and left her head bald as her face, so that she had to wear a queer cap-like wig for many weeks.
When the long vacation arrived, Belle carried her off to her beautiful home on the Hudson, where for the first time in her life she was surrounded with beauty and luxury on every side, and was treated as a loved and honored guest.
It was not long before the hateful wig was cast aside, and Fannie’s head was covered with a profusion of dark auburn curls, which were indeed a crown of glory that made her face almost beautiful.
Gentle, loving, and beloved by all, she remained in the seminary until she graduated with honor, after which madam offered her the position of head teacher, with a most liberal salary, which she gratefully accepted.
HOW BESS MANAGED TOM
* * * * *
Tom’s sister Nell was a pretty girl, and being a year older than Tom, wanted to show her authority over him.
The boy was rough and awkward, and just at that age when a boy refuses all meddling with “his rights.” He would put his hands in his pockets, his chair on Nell’s dress, and his feet on the window-sill.
Of course, they often quarreled: “For pity sake, Tom, do take your hands out of your pockets,” Nell would say in her most vexing manner.
“What are pockets for? I’d like to know, if not to put one’s hands in,” and Tom would whistle and march off.
“Tom, I don’t believe you’ve combed your hair for a week!”
“Well, what’s the use? it would be all roughed up again in less than an hour.”
“I do wish, Tom, you would take your great boots off the window-sill!”
“O don’t bother me; I’m reading;” Tom would say: and the boots refused to stir an inch,—which of course was very bad of Tom. And so it would go on from morning till night.
But Sister Bess had a different way of managing her big brother. She seemed to understand that coaxing was better than driving. Sometimes when he sat with both hands plunged into his pockets, Bess would nestle down close beside him, with a book or a picture, and almost before he knew it, one hand would be patting her curls, while the other turned the leaves or held the pictures.
If she chanced to see his feet on the window-sill, she would say, “Just try my ottoman, Tom dear, and see how comfortable it is;” and though Tom occasionally growled in a good natured way about its being too low, the boots always came down to its level.