closed her eyes and
thought how thankful she should be that she had been snatched as a
brand from Mary's class. No one could pray in school, of course, and
sitting up straight, that would be very wicked. But she resolved that
when she said her prayers that night she would add a word of fervent
gratitude for her escape.

The Senior Fourth class was assembling now, the highest in the school.
Elizabeth gazed in longing admiration at John and Charles Stuart. How
glorious it must be away up there, and preparing for the High School,
too! Miss Hillary was asking names again, "Sammy Martin, John Gordon."
She paused and smiled. She had been growing more genial as the morning
advanced and Forest Glen showed no signs of mutiny.

"There seems to be a Martin and a Gordon for every class," she
remarked, and Elizabeth's heart leaped. Perhaps this was a hint that
instead of two Gordons in the Third class there would be one in the
Junior Fourth. "Charles Stuart MacAllister" was the next name. Miss
Hillary smiled again. "Are you the Pretender?" she asked, and the
Senior Fourth all laughed at Charles Stuart's expense.

"I do not like double names," she added pleasantly. "They are too
cumbersome." Elizabeth stored up the word greedily. "I shall call
you Stuart, as there are four other Charlies here."

When recess was over, so good-humored had Miss Hillary become that she
apparently forgot that Lizzie Gordon was to be taught how to be
mannerly, and sent her to her seat to take part in the examination.
Elizabeth slipped in beside Rosie, breathless with relief. Rosie had
been preparing her welcome. She had sharpened the three pieces of the
broken pencil to points fine and delicate as needles, she had piled all
her friend's books in a neat row, and put a pink tissue-paper frill
like her own around her ink-well. Elizabeth sighed happily. It was
such a privilege to have a Rosie for one's friend.

Miss Hillary had paused in her work to give a little address on the
proper way to wash one's slate, and to Elizabeth's joy and pride she
held up Rosie as a shining example. Rosie had a big pickle bottle of
water, and a little sponge tied to her slate by a string. Everything
about Rosie was always so dainty. Elizabeth had a slate-rag somewhere,
but someone had always borrowed it when she needed it, so she generally
re-borrowed or used Rosie's sponge. Elizabeth wished she had been nice
like Rosie and Miss Hillary had commended h