ative, however, and after a
while she stole away; for in spite of her petulance at Larry's words,
they had suggested a train of thought which made her want to be by
herself. She went up to the oratory and stayed there a long time, amid
the twilight shadows. Finally the ringing of the supper bell put an
end to her musings. She knelt a few minutes before the statue, and
then ran down to the dining-room. She was very quiet all the evening;
and, to Mrs. Clayton's surprise, the family heard no more of the May
drama.

The next day, at school, Abby waylaid Marion Gaines in one of the
corridors.

"I want to speak to you," she began.

"Well, what's the matter, Abby? What makes you so serious this
morning?" inquired Marion.

"Nothing--only I've been thinking about the May piece, and I want to
tell you that I'd rather not be Queen," faltered the little girl,

"You'd rather not be Queen!" repeated Marion, in astonishment. "Why
not? I thought you were delighted to be chosen."

"So I was--yesterday," the little girl hastened to say; for she would
not have Marion think she did not appreciate the compliment.

"Then what has caused you to change your mind so suddenly?" Marion went
on. "What a fickle child you are, to be sure!"

"It is not that," stammered poor Abby, a good deal confused;
"but--but--well, you know the Blessed Virgin is Queen of May, and it
seems as if we ought not even to play at having any other Queen."

Marion stared at her incredulously. "And so missy has a scruple about
it?" she said, smiling.

"No," returned Abby; "but my brother Larry thought so. And if it looks
that way even to a little boy like him, I think I would rather not
pretend to be Queen."

"A May piece without a Queen! Why, it would be like the play of Hamlet
with Hamlet left out!" declared Marion. "Did you not think that if you
declined the part we might give it to some one else?"

Abby colored and was silent. This had, indeed, been the hardest part
of the struggle with herself. But there was an element of the heroic
in her character. She never did anything by halves; like the little
girl so often quoted, "when she was good, she was very, _very_, good."

Marion stood a moment looking at her. "And do you really mean," she
said at length, "that you are ready to give up the _role_ you were so
delighted with yesterday, and the satisfaction of queening it over your
companions if only for an hour?--that you are willing to make