years before Margery began to teach the poor cottagers' children, Sir Walter Welldon, a wealthy knight, had set up an elderly widow lady in a small school in the village. This gentlewoman was at length taken ill, and was no longer able to attend to her duties. When Sir Walter heard of this, he sent for Mr. Goodall, and asked him to look out for some one who would be able and willing to take Mrs. Gray's place as mistress of the school.

The worthy clergyman could think of no one so well qualified for the task as Margery Meanwell, who, though but young, was grave beyond her years, and was growing up to be a comely maiden; and when he told his mind to the knight, Margery was at once chosen. Sir Walter built a larger school-house for Margery's use; so that she could have all her old pupils about her that liked to come, as well as the regular scholars.

From this time, no one called her "Goody Two Shoes," but generally Mrs. Margery, and she was more and more liked and respected by her neighbours.

Soon after Margery had become mistress of the school, she saved a dove from some cruel boys, and she called him Tom, in remembrance of her brother now far away, and from whom she had heard no tidings.

About this time a lamb had lost its dam, and its owner was about to have it killed; when Margery heard of this, she bought the lamb and brought it home. Some neighbours, finding how fond of such pets Margery was, presented her with a nice playful little dog called Jumper, and also with a skylark. Now, master Ralph was a shrewd bird, and a bit of a wag too, and when Will, the lamb, and Carol, the lark, made their appearance, the knowing fellow picked out the following verse, to the great amusement of everybody:—

"Early to bed, and early to rise,
Is the way to be healthy, wealthy, and wise."

Mrs. Margery was ever on the look-out to be useful to her neighbours. Now a traveller from London had presented her with a new kind of instrument, a rough-looking barometer, by the help of which she could often guess correctly how the weather would be, a day or two beforehand. This caused a great talk about the country, and so provoked were the people of the distant villages at the better luck of the Mouldwell folks, that they accused Mrs. Margery of being a witch, and sent old Nicky Noodle to go and tax her with it, and to scrape together whatever evidence he could against her. When this wiseacre saw her at her school-door, with her raven on one shoulder and the dove on the other, the lark on her hand, and the lamb and little dog by her side, the sight took his breath away for a time, and he scampered off, crying out, "A witch, a witch, a witch!"

She laughed at the simpleton's folly, and called him jocosely a "conjuror!" for his pains; but poor Mrs. Margery did not know how much folly and wickedness there was in the world, and she was greatly surprised to find that the half-witted Nicky Noodle had got a warrant against her.

At the meeting of the justices, before whom she was summoned to appear, many of her neighbours were present, ready to speak up for her character if needful. But it turned out that the charge made against her was nothing more than Nicky's idle tale that she was a witch. Now-a-days it seems strange that such a thing could be; but in England, at that period, so fondly styled by some "the good old times," many silly and wicked things were constantly being done, especially by the rich and powerful against the poor—such things as would not now be borne.

It happened that, among the justices who met to hear this charge against Mrs. Margery, there was but one silly enough to think there was any ground for it; his name was Shallow, and it was he who had granted the warrant. But she soon silenced him when he kept repeating that she must be a witch to foretell the