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Merry, who were very sensible as well as
very good-natured children, said,--

"No, no, no! There shall be no kings or queens in Merrigoland. We will
teach you all that we know, and you shall teach us all that you know,
and so we will help each other; and no one shall think himself better
than any one else, or forget that none of us can do well without the help
of all the rest."
So the children shouted,--
"Hurrah for Peter and Merry, and down with fine ways and fine
clothes!"
And then they gave three cheers so loud, that the fathers and mothers,
and grandpas and grandmas, and uncles and aunts, and brothers and
sisters, heard them, as they sat at dinner in the governor's house; and all
came trooping home in a great hurry to see what was the matter.
But when they heard the story, and found how well the children were
going on, they said,--
"We could teach them nothing better than what they are learning for
themselves. We may let them alone."
So they all went back to the governor's house, and spent the rest of the
week, and"--
"Tea is ready, Mrs. Legrange," said James at the parlor-door.
CHAPTER V.
THE RUNAWAY.

TEA was over, and the little guests made ready to go home. Cousin
Tom, declining Mrs. Legrange's invitation to dinner on plea of another
engagement, delighted Miss Minnie Wall's heart by offering to wait
upon her home, but rather injured the effect of his politeness by taking
Willy and Jerry Noble upon the other side, and talking pegtop with
them as glibly as he talked opera with the young lady.

As for the rest, some went alone, some with their nurses, some with
each other. Little Bessie Rider was the last; and, when the nurse did not
come for her as had been promised, Mrs. Legrange bid Susan lead her
home, leaving 'Toinette in the drawing-room till her return.
"And I must go and lie down a little before I dress for dinner,"
continued she to 'Toinette. "So, Sunshine, I shall leave you here alone,
if you will promise not to touch anything you should not, or to go too
near the fire."
The little girl promised; and, with a lingering kiss, her mother left her.
Alone in the twilight, 'Toinette sat for a while upon the rug, watching
the bright coals as they tinkled through the grate, or rushed in roaring
flame up the chimney.
"I wish I was a fire-fairy, and lived in that big red hole right in the
middle of the fire," thought 'Toinette. "Then I would wear such a
beautiful dress just like gold, and a wreath on my head all blazing with
fire; and I would dance a-tiptoe away up the chimney and into the sky:
and perhaps I should come to heaven; no, to the sun. I wonder if the
sun is heaven for the fire-fairies, and I wonder if they dance in the
sunset."
So 'Toinette jumped up, and, running to one of the long windows, put
her little eager face close to the glass, and looked far away across the
square, and down the long street beyond, to the beautiful western sky,
all rosy and golden and purple with the sunset-clouds; while just above
them a great white star stood trembling in the deep blue, as if
frightened at finding itself out all alone in the night.
"No," thought 'Toinette; "I don't want to be a fire-fairy, and dance in
the sunset: I want to be a--a angel, I guess, and live in that beautiful star.
Then I'd have a dress all white and shining like mamma's that she wore
to the ball. But mamma said the little girl in the story was naughty to
like her pretty dress, and she weared a gingham one when she was good.
Guess I won't be any fairy. I'll be Finnikin Fine, and wear a gingham
gown and apron. I'll tell papa to carry away the bracelets too. I'm going

to be good like Merry that weared a sun-bonnet."
Eager to commence the proposed reform, 'Toinette tugged at the
bracelet upon her left shoulder until she broke the clasp and tore the
pretty lace of her under-sleeve.
"Dear, dear, what a careless child!" exclaimed the little girl,
remembering the phrase so often repeated to her. "But it ain't any
matter, I guess," added she, brightening up; "for I shan't have any
under-sleeve to my gingham dress. Susan's aunt doesn't."
'Toinette paused, with her hand upon the other bracelet trying to
remember whether Susan, or the little girl who came to see her, was the
aunt. The question was not settled, when the sound of music in the
street below attracted 'Toinette's attention. Clinging to the
window-ledge so