as no one else,--even Angelina Maybelle Remington had got
through without disaster,--and Clarabel, wistful-eyed, saw the other
girls file out.

At another time Josephine would have stayed; she always did when
Clarabel had to, as Clarabel did when she was in like need. But to-night
she filed out with the rest, and Clarabel, with a sense of desertion,
bent over her problems of men and hay to mow, men and potatoes to dig,
men and miles of railroad to build.

The noise of scurrying feet grew fainter, the sound of children's voices
died away. The room settled into stillness, except for the solemn tick
of the clock and the scratching of Clarabel's pencil on the slate. There
were fractions in the problems, and fractions were always hard for
Clarabel. Her pencil stopped often while she frowned at the curly-tailed
figures. In one of these pauses the door squeaked open a little way. It
squeaked again, and some one sidled into the room; it was Josephine.

"Please may I go to my seat?" she asked.

"Certainly," said the teacher, and watched her curiously.

She tiptoed to the back seat, fumbled for a few minutes in her desk,
then slipped to a seat a few rows farther in front; then to another and
another, till she had reached the row in which Clarabel sat.

Clarabel, though she was bending over her slate, had heard every
hesitating move, and when the last halt was made she shook her curls
back from her eyes, looked around, and dimpled into smiles.

The teacher, watching, waited to see what would happen next. Nothing
did, except that the two little girls sat and smiled and smiled and
smiled as if they never would stop.

Presently the teacher herself smiled and spoke. She had a very sweet
voice sometimes--one that seemed to hint at happy secrets. That was the
way it sounded now.

"Would you like to help Clarabel, Josephine?" she asked. "You may if you
wish to."

"If she'll let me," answered Josephine, her eyes fixed on Clarabel's
face.

"I would love to have her," said Clarabel, _her_ eyes on Josephine. And
instantly the one narrow seat became large enough for two.

For ten minutes more there was great scratching of slate-pencils and
much whispering and some giggling. Then with cheerful clatter the slate
was borne to the platform. The teacher looked at the little girls more
than at the examples. "I'm sure they're right," she said. "Now, off to
your homes--both of you!"

"Good night," said Clarabel.

"Good night," said