Knut and Otto looked thoroughly ashamed of themselves, and began to realize what their foolishness might have led them into.

However, no one could be miserable for long at a time in the Badger family; they were all so happy and light-hearted--so after a good dinner, the two little Bears ran out into the garden, and forgot their troubles in a romp with the children.

"You did not know your old schoolmaster was a cousin of ours?"

remarked the Badger-mother, as they rested, later on, under a shady fir tree. "He really is a worthy creature at heart, and you ought all to try and put up with him as much as possible."

"We really _will_," cried the two little Bears heartily. "If ever we get back again, we really _will_!" and they thoroughly intended to keep their promises.

"I think this evening you should start for home before it grows dusk,"

said the Badger-mother. "Father will see you well on your way, and your parents must be longing to hear of you. Come into the house now, and I will make you look respectable."

Knut and Otto were all obedience, and followed the Badger-mother meekly to the kitchen. Here she took down two large scrubbing-brushes, and proceeded to give them a thorough tidying. Then their faces were soaped, and finally two of the young Badgers' caps were placed upon their heads--for their own had fallen off when they were upset into the river.

The elastics were very tight under their chins, but they refrained from saying anything--and this showed how complete was their reformation!

Just as all the preparations were completed, there came a loud knock at the door; and the Schoolmaster himself appeared, his clothes torn, one flap off his hat, a bandage covering his right eye, leading in a little crowd of scholars that he had collected with infinite toil from many perilous positions.

There were two Hedgehogs, a young Fox, five Badgers, a Mole, and a tame Guinea-pig. All of them were more or less scratched, and dismal looking; and some had evidently been in the water, for their clothes were still dripping, and hung round them in the most uncomfortable manner.

"What! _you_ here, after all! Well, this is a happy meeting!" cried Herr Badger, embracing the little Bears warmly. "I wasn't going home till I'd found you--and here you are. A most fortunate coincidence!"

"Sit down, sit down, cousin," said the Badger-mother hospitably.

"Bring in the pupils, and let them dry their hair before the fire--they seem in a sad state, poor things!"

"They certainly _do_ look a little untidy," said the Badger, "but we shall soon remedy all that. I have been explaining to the cla.s.s (at least to as much as I've got of it)," he continued, turning to Knut, "that the plan of the School is to be entirely reformed--ten minutes'

Arithmetic per day, and History _once_ weekly. What do you say to that, children?"

A feeble cheer arose from the pupils; and the two little Bears, throwing themselves upon their knees, begged their Master's pardon for all the trouble they had caused him.

CHAPTER VII.

Fru Bjornson, seated on a camp-stool by the side of the entrance gate to her house, was looking anxiously around her. Close by stood Ingold, with one eye tightly screwed up, and an old-fashioned telescope in her hand, trying in vain to adjust the focus.

"What do you see now?" enquired the Bear-mother, leaning forward.

"A great fog with snakes in it!" replied the servant truthfully.

"Why, those are _trees_, of course!" said Fru Bjornson. "Turn the screw a little more, and it will become as plain as possible."

Ingold twisted her hand several times rapidly, and again applied her eye to the end.

"It doesn't seem like snakes now, does it?" asked the Bear-mother triumphantly.

"Oh, no! It's turned to milk with green splashes in it," said Ingold.

"You don't see anything of my darling children, then?" enquired Fru Bjornson.

"Nothing at all, ma'am," said Ingold. "A telescope may be a wonderful thing for those who haven't any eyes, but really I think _I_ see better _without_ it."

At this moment, through the trees, an extraordinary procession came in sight; which caused the Bear-mother to jump up from her seat with a cry of joy.

Herr Badger, with his cloak thrown over one shoulder, leading Knut and Otto by the hand; and behind them the rest of the pupils in single file--depressed and gloomy, but resigned to whatever Fate might have in store for them.

Fru Bjornson ran forward, and clasped her children in her arms.

It was a happy meeting; and as she thought the Schoolmaster would already have gone through all the scolding that was necessary, she refrained from adding a word more.

"I've got the cla.s.s together, ma'am," said Herr Badger triumphantly, "and I'm never going to let it go again! The new School system commences from to-morrow!"

All the parents agreed that the children had been sufficiently punished during their wanderings in the forest, and they were therefore allowed to return to their homes, without anything more being said on the subject.

The next morning the scholars a.s.sembled at the School-house in excellent time; but most of them unfortunately, having lost their satchels, were obliged to carry their books and luncheon, wrapped up in untidy brown paper parcels--which was certainly very mortifying.

"My dear pupils," commenced Herr Badger, as he entered the room and bowed graciously, "on this auspicious occasion, I wish to call the Arithmetic cla.s.s for ten minutes only. We will begin, if you please, with 'twice one'--repeating it three times over _without a failure_!"

BOBBIE'S TWO SHILLINGS.

A Guinea-Pig Story.

CHAPTER I.

On a sloping lawn, before an old-fashioned, rambling house, Bobbie and Jerry were playing at nine-pins on a hot day in August.

Under the shade of a cedar tree the under-nurse sat working; and "Aunt Lucy"--an old lady with snow-white hair, crowned by a black mushroom hat--was slowly pacing the gravel walk, digging out a weed here and there with a long spud she carried for the purpose.

Jerry was only playing nine-pins because Bobbie was so fond of them.

She did not care for them herself, for she thought that as she was ten years old they were too babyish, but Bobbie was only eight, so of course it was not to be expected of him that he would care for "grown-up" things.

There was a pleasant buzzing in the air, as old Jeptha Funnel led the donkey in the mowing machine, up and down the wide lawn, pausing every now and then to exchange a few words with the children.

"When are you a-coming to tea with us, Master Bobbie, and Missy?" he enquired, stopping to fan his heated face with a red pocket-handkerchief. "James Seton's got some guinea-pigs that he talks of bringing over for you to see, any day as you'll fix upon."

"Oh, that _is_ nice. I do so long to have another!" cried Bobbie rapturously. "I only want three-halfpence-farthing more, and I shall have enough in my money-box to pay for it. Will James wait till Friday?"

"Of course he will, Master Bobbie; don't you worry your head about that."

"Well, it's an extraordinary thing, Jeptha, but you can't think how I've been saving, and saving, and _saving_ for that guinea-pig; and it seems as if I never _should_ have enough," said Bobbie confidentially.

"I saved up for 'Funnel'--the one that's called after you, you know--in no time; but we were up in Scotland then, and there wasn't hardly any shops that I _could_ spend my money in."

"Things always _do_ seem a long time a-coming when you're longing for them, so to speak, day and night, sir."

"Yes, it's quite true that 'a watch-pocket never boils,'" said Bobbie.