J. ROSS ROBERTSON, 55 KING-ST. WEST, COR. BAY.
1881
CONTENTS
BAD SPELLING.
The last notes of the bell which duly summoned to their tasks the pupils of Madame Duvant’s fashionable seminary had ceased, and in the school room, recently so silent, was heard the low hum of voices, interspersed occasionally with a suppressed titter from some girl more mischievous than her companions. Very complacently Madame Duvant looked over the group of young faces, mentally estimating the probable gain she should receive from each, for this was the first day of the term; then with a few, low spoken words to the row of careworn, pale-faced teachers, she smoothed down the folds of her heavy grey satin and left the room, just as a handsome travelling carriage stopped before the door.
The new arrival proved to be a fashionably-dressed woman, who, with an air of extreme hauteur, swept into the parlour, followed by two young girls, one apparently sixteen and the other fourteen years of age. The younger and, as some would call her, the plainer looking of the two, was unmistakably a ‘poor relation,’ for her face bore the meek, patient look of a dependent, while the proud black eyes and scornfully curved lip of the other marked her as the daughter of the lady, who, after glancing about the room and satisfying herself that the chairs, tables, and so forth, were refined, gave her name as ‘Mrs. Greenleaf, wife of the Hon. Mr. Greenleaf, of Herkimer Co., N. Y.’