Improve these golden hours of youth, Griselda; they will never return." "I hope not," muttered Griselda, "if it means doing sums." Miss Grizzel fortunately was a little deaf; she did not hear this remark.

Just then the cuckoo clock struck eleven.
"Good little cuckoo," said Miss Grizzel.

"What an example he sets you.
His life is spent in the faithful discharge of duty;" and so saying she left the room.
The cuckoo was still telling the hour--eleven took a good while.

It seemed to Griselda that the bird repeated her aunt's last words.
"Faith--ful, dis--charge, of--your, du--ty," he said, "faith--ful." "You horrid little creature!" exclaimed Griselda in a passion; "what business have you to mock me ?" She seized a book, the first that came to hand, and flung it at the bird who was just beginning his eleventh cuckoo.

He disappeared with a snap, disappeared without flapping his wings, or, as Griselda always fancied he did, giving her a friendly nod, and in an instant all was silent.
Griselda felt a little frightened.