e sun," but she said no, she didn't want to play.

Martha took hold of her arm and tried to pull her into the ring, but
she held back.

"What is the matter?" said Martha.

"Nothing," Patience said, but her face was full of trouble. There was
a little wrinkle between her reflective brown eyes, and she drew in
her under lip after a way she had when disturbed.

When the bell rang, the scholars filed in with the greatest order and
decorum. Even the most frisky boys did no more than roll their eyes
respectfully in the Squire's direction as they passed him, and they
tiptoed on their bare feet in the most cautious manner.

The Squire sat through the remaining exercises, until it was time to
close the school.

"You may put up your books," said the teacher. There was a rustle and
clatter, then a solemn hush. They all sat with their arms folded,
looking expectantly at Squire Bean. The teacher turned to him. Her
cheeks were very red, and she was very dignified, but her voice shook
a little.

"Won't you make some remarks to the pupils?" said she.

Then the Squire rose and cleared his throat. The scholars did not pay
much attention to what he said, although they sat still, with their
eyes riveted on his face. But when, toward the close of his remarks,
he put his hand in his pocket, and a faint jingling was heard, a
thrill ran over the school.

The Squire pulled out two silver sixpences, and held them up
impressively before the children. Through a hole in each of them
dangled a palm-leaf strand; and the Squire's own initial was stamped
on both.

"Thomas Arnold may step this way," said the Squire.

Thomas Arnold had acquitted himself well in geography, and to him the
Squire duly presented one of the sixpences.

Thomas bobbed, and pattered back to his seat with all his mates
staring and grinning at him.

Then Patience Mather's heart jumped--Squire Bean was bidding her step
that way, on account of her going to the head of the arithmetic class.
She sat still. There was a roaring in her ears. Squire Bean spoke
again. Then the teacher interposed. "Patience," said she, "did you not
hear what Squire Bean said? Step this way."

Then Patience rose and dragged slowly down the aisle. She hung her
head, she dimly heard Squire Bean speaking; then the sixpence touched
her hand. Suddenly Patience looked up. There was a vein of heroism in
the little girl. Not far back, some of her kin had been brave fighters
in the Revolution. Now