asked permission to go out, having previously
borrowed a pair of scissors from one of the big girls who did fancy work
at the noon recess. Outside, Cyrus sneaked up close to the window and
cut off a piece of Cecily's hair.

This rape of the lock did not produce quite such terrible consequences
as the more famous one in Pope's poem, but Cecily's soul was no less
agitated than Belinda's. She cried all the way home from school about
it, and only checked her tears when Dan declared he'd fight Cyrus and
make him give it up.

"Oh, no, You mustn't." said Cecily, struggling with her sobs. "I won't
have you fighting on my account for anything. And besides, he'd likely
lick you--he's so big and rough. And the folks at home might find out
all about it, and Uncle Roger would never give me any peace, and mother
would be cross, for she'd never believe it wasn't my fault. It wouldn't
be so bad if he'd only taken a little, but he cut a great big chunk
right off the end of one of the braids. Just look at it. I'll have to
cut the other to make them fair--and they'll look so awful stubby."

But Cyrus' acquirement of the chunk of hair was his last triumph.
His downfall was near; and, although it involved Cecily in a most
humiliating experience, over which she cried half the following night,
in the end she confessed it was worth undergoing just to get rid of
Cyrus.

Mr. Perkins was an exceedingly strict disciplinarian. No communication
of any sort was permitted between his pupils during school hours. Anyone
caught violating this rule was promptly punished by the infliction of
one of the weird penances for which Mr. Perkins was famous, and which
were generally far worse than ordinary whipping.

One day in school Cyrus sent a letter across to Cecily. Usually he left
his effusions in her desk, or between the leaves of her books; but this
time it was passed over to her under cover of the desk through the hands
of two or three scholars. Just as Em Frewen held it over the aisle Mr.
Perkins wheeled around from his station before the blackboard and caught
her in the act.

"Bring that here, Emmeline," he commanded.

Cyrus turned quite pale. Em carried the note to Mr. Perkins. He took it,
held it up, and scrutinized the address.

"Did you write this to Cecily, Emmeline?" he asked.

"No, sir."

"Who wrote it then?"

Em said quite shamelessly that she didn't know--it had just been passed
over from the next row.

"And I suppose you have