"Ah! I see you feel better," her father remarked, smiling kindly upon her; "and I have finished my letter, so have time to talk with you. Max and Gracie, you may take your turn at a run in the fresh air now."
Donning their outdoor garments, while Lulu took hers off, and put them in their proper place, they hurried away.
"Bring your slate and book here, daughter," was the next order, in the kindest of tones, "and let me see what was troubling you so."
"It's these vulgar fractions, papa," she said, giving herself an impatient shake. "I don't wonder they call them vulgar, for they're so hateful! I can't understand the rule, and I can't get the examples right. I wish you wouldn't make me learn them."
"Daughter, daughter!" he said, in grave, reproving accents, "don't give way to an impatient temper. It will only make matters worse."
"But, papa," she said, bringing the book and slate as directed, "won't you please let me skip these vulgar fractions?"
"I thought," he said, "that my Lulu was a brave, persevering little girl, not ready to be overcome by a slight difficulty."
"Oh! but it isn't a slight one, papa: it's big and hard," she pleaded.
"I will go over the rule with you, and try to make it clear," he returned, still speaking in a pleasant tone; "and then we will see what we can do with these troublesome examples."
She sighed almost hopelessly, but gave her attention fully to his explanation, and presently cried out joyfully, "Oh, I do understand it now, papa! and I believe I can get the sums right."