the last page of the _Anti-Cat_ and read the article entitled
"Our Tactics." It was exceedingly short, but it struck me as able. I
began to have a great deal of pity for Miss Battersby.

"Calm" (or Balm. There was an uncertainty about the first letter) "and
haughty _in her presence_. Let yourself out _behind her back_."

"What about your going in for the competition?" said Lalage. "Even if
she doesn't insult you you could easily invent something. You've seen
her and you know quite well the sort she is. You might get the prize."

"May I read the story you've got?" I asked. "If it's not very good I
might perhaps try; but it is probably quite superior to anything I could
possibly produce, and in that case there would be no use my attempting
to compete."

"It is good," said Lalage, "but yours might be good too, and then I
should divide the prize, or you could give a second prize; a box of
Turkish Delight would do."

This encouraged me and I read the "Insult Story."

"I did my lessons studiously, as good as I could.", Lalage was a
remarkably good speller for her age. Many much older people would have
staggered over "studiously." She took it, so to speak, in her stride.

"I wrote out a lot of questions on the history and answered them all
without looking at the book. I knew it perfectly. The morning came and
with it history. I answered all the questions except one--the character
of Mary. The insulter repeated it, commanding me to 'Say it now.' I
said it with a bland smile upon my face, as I thought how well I knew my
history."

"Laiage," I said, pausing in the narrative, "did you make that smile
bland simply because you knew your history or was its blandness part of
the tactics, 'Balm and haughty in her presence?'"

"Calm," said Lalage, "calm, not balm. Never mind about that. Go on."

"The insulter," I read, "turned crimson with rage and shrieked demnation
and stamped about the floor. Cooling down a bit, she said, 'You shall
write it out ten times this afternoon.' Naturally I was astonished, for
I had said it perfectly correctly when she told me. I had, however,
a better control over my temper than she had, and managed, despite my
passionate thoughts, to smile blandly all through, though it made her
ten times worse."

"Well?" said Lalage when I had finished.

"I am a little confused," I said. "I thought the story was to be about
an insult offered by Miss Battersby to some one else, you, or perhaps
me." "It is,"