"Now, Louisa, get your work all finished, and everything put neatly aside, and then come here to me again."
"Yes, ma'am."
We sat down to our books, and read and waited; we waited and read another hour—no Louisa.
There was music and the sound of voices on the parade in front of our windows, but that did not disturb us; it was what we were daily accustomed to.
I must go at length, and see what could be keeping my damsel so. I descended to the kitchen. The breakfast-things stood upon the table—the kettles and spider upon the hearth—the fire was out—the kitchen empty.
Passing back into the hall, which extended the whole length of the house and opened in front upon the parade, I perceived a group collected in the area, of all shades and colors, and in the midst, one round, woolly head which I could not mistake, bobbing up and down, now on this side, now on that, while peals of laughter were issuing from the whole group.
"Louisa," I called, "come here. What are you doing there?"
"Looking at inspection."
"But why are not your breakfast-things washed, and your kitchen swept?
Did I not tell you I wished you to come up and learn your lessons?"
"Yes, ma'am; but I had to see inspection first. Everybody looks at inspection on Sunday."