“What can’t be cured
Must be endured,”
whispered Carrie back again,—half in jest and half in earnest.
After the introductory exercises, Miss Forester, the principal teacher, came to the new pupils, and, after talking with them about their past studies,—how far they had advanced, &c.,—she told them what classes they were to join, and added that although she did not expect them to learn the morning’s lessons, yet she wished them to take their places in the different classes, that they might see the mode of recitation.
When the History class was called, the girls came as they had been told to do; and here they sat close beside Florence again. In the Arithmetic class, in Thomson’s Seasons and in spelling it was just the same.
The spelling class was conducted on a new plan; at least, it was new to the cousins. Each pupil wrote the words given out by the teacher on her slate, and, after having done so, exchanged slates with her next neighbour, who corrected and marked the misspelled words while they were spelled properly by the teacher.
Carrie had to give her slate to Florence, who sat next to her. When Florence gave it back to her, she pointed to something which she had written under the list of words. It ran thus:—
“Room-mate and seat-mate, let me know
If you wish me as friend or foe: