2 The Real Charlotte 



daughters and her niece to sit, as they were now sitting, 

 between the children of her grocer, Mr. Mulvany, and her 

 chemist, Mr. Nolan. Sunday-school was, in her mind, an 

 admirable institution that at one and the same time cleared 

 her house of her offspring, and spared her the complica- 

 tions of their religious training, and her broad, black satin- 

 clad bosom rose and fell in rhythmic accord with the snores 

 that were the last expression of Sabbath peace and repose. 



It was nearly four o'clock, and the heat and dull clamour 

 in the schoolhouse were beginning to tell equally upon 

 teachers and scholars. Francie Fitzpatrick had yawned 

 twice, though she had a sufficient sense of politeness to 

 conceal the action behind her Bible ; the pleasure of 

 thrusting out in front of her, for the envious regard of her 

 fellows, a new pair of side spring boots, with mock buttons 

 and stitching, had palled upon her ; the spider that had for 

 a few quivering moments hung uncertainly above the gor- 

 geous bonnet of Miss Bewley, the teacher, had drawn itself 

 up again, staggered, no doubt, by the unknown tropic 

 growths it found beneath ; and the silver ring that Tommy 

 Whitty had crammed upon her gloved finger before school, 

 as a mark of devotion, had become perfectly immovable 

 and was a source of at least as much anxiety as satisfactioa 

 Even Miss Bewley's powers of exposition had melted away 

 in the heat ; she had called out her catechetical reserves, 

 and was reduced to a dropping fire of questions as to the 

 meaning of Scriptural names, when at length the superin- 

 tendent mounted the rostrum and tapped thrice upon it. 

 The closing hymn was sung, and then, class by class, the 

 hot, tired children clattered out into the road. 



On Francie rested the responsibility of bringing home 

 her four small cousins, of ages varying from six to eleven, 

 but this duty did not seem to weigh very heavily on her. 

 She had many acquaintances in the Sunday-school, and 

 with Susie Brennan's and Fanny Hemphill's arms round 

 her waist, and Tommy Whitty in close attendance, she was 

 in no hurry to go home. Children are, if unconsciously, 

 as much influenced by good looks a? their elders, and even 

 the raw angularities of fourteen, and Mrs. Fitzpatrick's taste 

 in hats, could not prevent Francie from looking extremely 

 pretty and piquante, as she held forth to an attentive 



