st as they could go, and each one scoldin'
the other one--we'll have a good spell or winter yet, I am afraid, in
spite of our two warm days and all the signs of Spring."

"Weather like you is too good to last," said Mrs. Watson complacently,
"I knew it wasn't the Spring, it was too good to last."

Pearl went to the window and looked out--already there was a threat of
snow in the whining wind, and as she watched, a stray flake struck the
window in front of her.

"It was too good to last," she said with a sigh which broke into a sob
in the middle, "It was too good to be true!"

CHAPTER VII

THE INNOCENT DISTURBER

If there was any lack of enthusiasm among the parents it had no
reflection in the children's minds, for the Chicken Hill School, after
the great announcement, simply pulsated with excitement. Country
children have capabilities for enjoyment that the city child knows
nothing about, and to the boys and girls at Chicken Hill the prospect
of a program, a speech from Pearl Watson, and a supper--was most
alluring. Preparations were carried on with vigor. Seats were scrubbed
by owners, and many an ancient landmark of ink was lost forever.
Frayed window blinds that had sagged and dropped, and refused to go up
or down, were taken down and rolled and put back neat and even, and
the scholars warned not to touch them; the stove got a rubbing
with old newspapers; mousy corners of desks were cleaned out--and
objectionable slate rags discarded. Blackboards were cleaned and
decorated with an elaborate maple leaf stencil in green and brown, and
a heroic battle cry of "O Canada, we stand on guard for thee" executed
in flowing letters, in the middle. Mary Watson was the artist, and
spared no chalk in her undertaking, for each capital ended in
an arrow, and had a blanket of dots which in some cases nearly
obliterated its identity. But the general effect was powerful.

The day before, every little girl had her hair in tight braids
securely knotted with woollen yarn. Boudoir caps were unknown in the
Chicken Hill School, so the bare truth of these preparations were to
be seen and known of all. Maudie Steadman had her four curls set in
long rags, fastened up with pins, Mrs. Steadman having devised a new,
original way of making Maudie's hair into large, loose "natural"
curls, which were very handsome, and not until this day did Mrs.
Steadman show to the public the method of "setting."

Mr. Donald had placed all details