er goal."

John Westley, sitting on the edge of the flat-topped desk, leaned
suddenly forward and gently tilted Miss Lee's face upward. There was
nothing in the impulsive movement to offend; his face was very serious.

"Child, have _you_ been discouraged? Have you started climbing to the
stars--and had to halt--on the way?"

The girl laughed a little shamefacedly. "Oh, I had very big dreams--I
have them still. And I had a wonderful opportunity and had to give it
up; mother wanted me at home. She isn't well--so I took this position."
She made her little story brief, but her eyes told more than her words
of the disappointment and self-sacrifice.

"Well, mothers always come first. And maybe there's a _different_ way to
the stars, Barbara."

There was a moment's silence between them. John Westley was the first to
break it.

"I want your advice, Miss Lee. I believe you're closer to the hearts of
these youngsters out here than anyone else. I've something in my mind
but I can't just shape it up. I want to build some sort of a scholarship
for Lincoln that isn't founded on books.

"The trouble is," he went on, "that every school turns out some real
scholars--boys and girls with their minds splendidly exercised and
stored--and what else? Generally always--broken bodies, physiques that
have been neglected and sacrificed in the struggle for learning. Of what
use to the world are their minds--then? I've found--and a good many men
and women come under my observation--that the well-trained mind is of no
earthly value to its owner or to the rest of the world unless it has a
well-trained body along with it."

"That's my present business," laughed Miss Lee. "I must agree with you."

"So I want to found some sort of a yearly award out here at Highacres
for the pupil who shows the best record in work--_and_ play."

"That will be splendid!" cried Miss Lee, enthusiastically.

"Will you help me?" John Westley asked with the diffidence of a
schoolboy. "Will you tell me if some of my notions are ridiculous--or
impossible?" He picked up one of the sharpened pencils from the desk and
drew up a chair. "Now, listen----" and he proceeded to outline the plan
he had had in mind for a long time.

One week later the Lincoln Award was announced to the pupils of the
school. So amazing and unusual was the competition that the school
literally buzzed with comments upon it; work for the day was abandoned.
Because the award was a substantial sum