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“Oh, well, you can take your old sixpence. I don’t care,” said Jo, suddenly abandoning her untenable line of defense. “Anyhow I’m glad she isn’t like Miss Hildred.”

“Who’s Miss Hildred?” asked Ann.

“She was the one before the last.”

“No, the one before before the last,” corrected Jo. “There’s been so many I’ve lost count. We’ve had five in the last year.”

“That sounds cheerful for me, I must say,” marked Ann. “It’s a pity I bothered to unpack.”

Both the little girls grinned broadly.

“If we like you,” said Biddy, “we won’t get out of hand.”

“Get out of hand indeed! I shall take the thickest stick I can find and wallop you both soundly. That’s the way I’ll teach you to like me!”

Their grins widened.

“I like you now, so you needn’t wallop me,” said Biddy.

“And I love you,” said Jo, suddenly hurling herself into Ann’s arms.

“Jo’s so unrestrained!” said Biddy disgustedly.

“Oh, I’ll soon restrain her,” replied Ann, scowling so fiercely that both little girls shrieked with mirth. This was a new kind of governess. They were prepared to become the devoted slaves of any one who looked as pretty as this, and could make jokes—the sort of jokes they understood.

“But you’re not very old,” said Biddy at last, rather doubtfully.

“Quite old enough. I’m older than you think.”

“You don’t know what I think.”

At this retort Ann laughed, and then the little girls