ir.
Ben and Billy are next best, and about even, for Ben's strong wrist
makes up for Billy's true eye, and both want to win. If I am out of the
way Ben stands a good chance, for the other fellows don't amount to
much."

"Bab does; she shoots nearly as well as Ben, and wants to win even more
than he or Billy. She must have her chance at any rate."

"So she may, but she wont do anything; girls can't, though it's good
exercise and pleases them to try."

"If I had full use of both my arms I'd show you that girls _can_ do a
great deal when they like. Don't be too lofty, young man, for you may
have to come down," laughed Miss Celia, amused by his airs.

"No fear," and Thorny calmly departed to set his targets for Ben's
practice.

"We shall see," and from that moment Miss Celia made Bab her especial
pupil, feeling that a little lesson would be good for Mr. Thorny, who
rather lorded it over the other young people. There was a spice of
mischief in it, for Miss Celia was very young at heart, in spite of her
twenty-four years, and she was bound to see that her side had a fair
chance, believing that girls can do whatever they are willing to strive
patiently and wisely for.

So she kept Bab at work early and late, giving her all the hints and
help she could with only one efficient hand, and Bab was delighted to
think she did well enough to shoot with the club. Her arms ached and her
fingers grew hard with twanging the bow, but she was indefatigable, and
being a strong, tall child of her age, with a great love of all athletic
sports, she got on fast and well, soon learning to send arrow after
arrow with ever increasing accuracy nearer and nearer to the bull's-eye.

The boys took very little notice of her, being much absorbed in their
own affairs, but Betty did for Bab what Sancho did for Ben, and trotted
after arrows till her short legs were sadly tired, though her patience
never gave out. She was so sure Bab would win that she cared nothing
about her own success, practicing little and seldom hitting anything
when she tried.

CHAPTER XX.

BEN'S BIRTHDAY.

A superb display of flags flapped gayly in the breeze on the September
morning when Ben proudly entered his teens. An irruption of bunting
seemed to have broken out all over the old house, for banners of every
shape and size, color and design flew from chimney-top and gable, porch
and gate-way, making the quiet place look as lively as a circus tent,
which was j