en to Rosalie. It seemed as if it
were the blue locket on the golden chain she wanted.

Then someone came. It was an old woman. It was the servant Miss Lizzie
had said would come to the door. She came from the front. She had been
away somewhere.

She looked cross. She told them to go around to the front door. As they
went the lady tapped. Rosalie looked back. Rosalie said the lady had
pulled the flower from her hair and was tearing it to pieces.

The old woman brought the trial-paper. She told them not to mention
coming around in the court, and not to say they had had to wait.

It was strange. But many things are strange when one is ten. One learns
to put many strange things aside.

There were more worrisome things nearer. The screw was loose which
secured the iron foot of Emmy Lou's desk to the floor. Now the front of
one desk formed the seat to the next.

Muscles, even in the atmosphere of a Miss Lizzie's rigid discipline,
sometimes rebel. The little girl sitting in front of Emmy Lou was given
to spasmodic changes of posture, causing unexpected upheavals of Emmy
Lou's desk.

On one of these occasions Emmy Lou's ink bottle went over. It was
Copy-Book hour. That one's apron, beautiful with much fine ruffling,
should be ruined, was a small matter when one's trial-paper had been
straight in the path of the flood. Neither was Emmy Lou's condition of
digital helplessness to be thought of, although it did seem as if all
great Neptune's ocean and more might be needed to make those little
fingers white again. Sponges, slate-rags, and neighbourly solicitude did
what they could. But the trial-paper was steeped indelibly past
redemption.

[Illustration: "She raised a timid and deep-dyed hand."]

Still not a word from Miss Lizzie. Only a cold and prolonged survey of
the scene, only an entire suspension of action in the Fourth Reader room
while Miss Lizzie waited.

At last Emmy Lou was ready to resume work. She raised a timid and
deep-dyed hand, and made known her need.

"Please, I have no trial-paper."

Miss Lizzie's lips unclosed. Had she waited for this? "Then," said Miss
Lizzie, "you will stay after school."

Emmy Lou's heart burned, the colour slowly left her cheeks.

It was something besides Emmy Lou that looked straight out of Emmy Lou's
eyes at Miss Lizzie. It was Judgment.

_Miss Lizzie was not fair._

Emmy Lou did not reach home until dinner was long over. She had first to
cover four slips of trial-pa