t the rockets and the Roman
candles? You know sparks fly out of them like rain. And if the smell of
old cartridge shells makes you sick, I don't know just how you'll get
along to-night."

The victor stopped short under the weight of this overwhelming spoil.

"I forgot all about it," she whispered. "Oh, Jimmie, I guess I ought to
have let Len Fogarty win that race. He could set off rockets and Roman
candles and Catherine wheels. I guess it'll kill me when the sparks and
the smoke come out. Maybe I'd better go and see Mr. Anstell and ask to
be excused."

"Aw, I wouldn't do that," Jimmie advised her, "you don't want everyone
to know about your nerve. You just tell him your dress is too light and
that you want me to attend to the fireworks for you."

In the transports of gratitude to which this knightly offer reduced her,
Cecelia Anne fared on by Jimmie's side until they reached the house and
their enquiring parents. Mrs. Hawtry was on the steps as they came up
and she gathered Cecelia Anne into her arms. For a moment no one spoke.
Then Jimmie made his declaration.

"Cecelia Anne beat Len Fogarty all to nothing. You ought to have been
there to see her."

"Was there any one else in the race?" queried Mr. Hawtry in what his son
considered most questionable taste.

"Oh, yes," he was constrained to answer. "Charlie Anderson was in it.
She beat him, too. And I _started_ with them but I thought it would do
those boys more good to be licked by a little girl than to have me 'tend
to them myself." And Jimmie proceeded leisurely into the house.

"But I don't have to set off the fireworks," Cecelia Anne explained
happily. "Jimmie says I don't have to if I don't want to. He's going to
do it for me."

"Kind brother," ejaculated Mr. Hawtry. And across the bright gold braids
of her little Atalanta, Mrs. Hawtry looked at her husband.

"_Did_ he know?" she questioned, "or did he not? You thought we could be
sure if he let her start."

"Well," was Mr. Hawtry's cryptic utterance, "he knows now."

THEODORA, GIFT OF GOD

"And then," cried Mary breathlessly, "what did they do then?"

"And then," her father obediently continued, "the two doughty knights
smote lustily with their swords. And each smote the other on the helmet
and clove him to the middle. It was a fair battle and sightly."

But Mary's interest was unabated. "And then," she urged, "what did they
do then?"

"Not much, I think. Even a knight of the Table Rou