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“Oh, very well! Let me see all your books, then,” said Maggie, turning to throw her arms round Tom’s neck, and rub his cheek with her small round nose.

Tom, in the gladness of his heart at having dear old Maggie to dispute with and crow over again, seized her round the waist, and began to jump with her round the large library table. Away they jumped with more and more vigour, till at last, reaching Mr. Stelling’s reading-stand, they sent it thundering down with its heavy books to the floor. Tom stood dizzy and aghast for a few minutes, dreading the appearance of Mr. or Mrs. Stelling.

“Oh, I say, Maggie,” said Tom at last, lifting up the stand, “we must keep quiet here, you know. If we break anything, Mrs. Stelling’ll make us cry peccavi.”

“What’s that?” said Maggie.

“Oh, it’s the Latin for a good scolding,” said Tom.

“Is she a cross woman?” said Maggie.

“I believe you!” said Tom, with a nod.

“I think all women are crosser than men,” said Maggie. “Aunt Glegg’s a great deal crosser than Uncle Glegg, and mother scolds me more than father does.”

“Well, you’ll be a woman some day,” said Tom, “so you needn’t talk.”

“But I shall be a clever woman,” said Maggie, with a toss.

“Oh, I dare say, and a nasty, conceited thing. Everybody’ll hate you.”

“But you oughtn’t to hate me, Tom. It’ll be very wicked of you, for I shall be your sister.”

“Yes; but if you’re a nasty, disagreeable thing, I shall hate you.”

“Oh but, Tom, you won’t! I shan’t be disagreeable. I shall be very good to you, and I shall be good to everybody. You won’t hate me really, will you, Tom?”

“Oh, bother, never mind! Come, it’s time for me to learn my lessons. See here what I’ve got to do,” Tom went on, drawing Maggie towards him, and showing her his theorem, while she pushed her hair behind her ears, and prepared herself to help him in Euclid.

“It’s nonsense!” she said, after a few moments reading, “and very ugly stuff; nobody need want to make it out.”

“Ah, there now, Miss Maggie!” said Tom, drawing the book away and wagging his head at her; “you see you’re not so clever as you thought you were.”

“Oh,” said Maggie, pouting, “I dare say I could make it out if I’d learned what goes before, as you have.”

“But that’s what you just couldn’t, Miss Wisdom,” said Tom. “For it’s all the harder when you know what goes before. But get along with you now; I must go on with this. Here’s the Latin Grammar. See what you can make of that.”

Maggie found the Latin Grammar quite soothing, for she delighted in new words, and quickly found that there was an English Key at the end, which would make her very wise about Latin at slight expense.

After a short period of silence Tom called out,–

“Now, then, Magsie, give us the Grammar!”

“O Tom, it’s such a pretty book!” she said, as she jumped out of the large armchair to give it him. “I could learn Latin very soon. I don’t think it’s at all hard.”

“Oh, I know what you’ve been doing,” said Tom; “you’ve been reading the English at the end. Any donkey can do that. Here, come and hear if I can say this. Stand at that end of the table.”

Maggie obeyed, and took the open book.

“Where do you begin, Tom?”

“Oh, I begin at ‘ Appellativa arborum,’ because I say all over again what I’ve been learning this week.”

Tom sailed along pretty well for three lines, and then he stuck fast.

“There, you needn’t laugh at me, Tom, for you didn’t remember it at all, you see.”

“Phee-e-e-h! I told you girls couldn’t learn Latin.”

“Very well, then,” said Maggie, pouting. “I can say it as well as you can. And you don’t mind your stops. For you ought to stop twice as long at a semicolon as you do at a comma, and you make the longest stops where there ought to be no stops at all.”