swering to something akin to
Roll Call, and awarded accordingly. But lately, a birthday had brought
Emmy Lou a book called "Tanglewood Tales." And Heaven had since taken on
an Olympian colouring and diversity more complex and perplexing.

Miss Fanny read Mary Agatha's note, and looking down at her said that
she wondered, since every desk was in use in its dual capacity, if Mary
Agatha were to devote herself quite closely to reducing pounds to pence,
would it not be possible for her to forget her nearness to things
secular?

Mary Agatha was poor in Arithmetic. And Miss Fanny was laughing in her
eyes. Was Miss Fanny laughing at Mary Agatha?

Mary Agatha cried at recess. She said her Papa furnished pokers and
tongs and shovels and dust-pans for the public schools, and he would see
to it that she had a seat to herself if she wanted it.

But when the class went up from recess, there was a seat for Mary
Agatha. Miss Fanny had sent the note down to Mr. Bryan, and he had
arranged it. It was a table from the office, and a stool. For want of
other place, they stood beneath the blackboard in front of the class. It
was a high stool.

Being told, Mary Agatha gathered her books together and went and climbed
upon her stool, apart from things secular.

Miss Fanny turned to Mr. Bryan. "For the propagation of infant Saint
Stylites," said Miss Fanny.

"Ur-r--exactly," said Mr. Bryan. He said it a little, perhaps,
doubtfully.

Suddenly Mr. Bryan grew red. He had caught Miss Fanny's eyes laughing,
and saw her mouth twitching. Was Miss Fanny laughing at Mr. Bryan? What
about?

Mr. Bryan went out. He closed the door. It closed sharply.

Then everything came at once. Hot weather, and roses and syringa piling
Miss Fanny's desk, and Reviews for Examination, and Confirmations.

Mary Agatha asked them to her confirmation. Rosalie and Emmy Lou went.
The great doors at Mary Agatha's church opened and closed behind them;
it was high and dim; there were twinkling lights and silence, and awe,
and colour. Something quivered. It burst forth. It was music. It was
almost as if it hurt. One drew a deep breath and shut one's eyes a
moment because it hurt; then one opened them. The aisles were filled
with little girls in misty white and floating veils, stealing forward.

And Mary Agatha was among them.

Rosalie told Emmy Lou she meant some day to belong to Mary Agatha's
church. Emmy Lou thought she would, too.

[Illustration: "And Mary Agath