d I like the boy. He's got pluck."

"Six months give a fellow time to turn round, any way," said Billy, as
the family sat down to supper.

It was September when this conversation took place, and it was December
before the teachers, who were watching the boys' daily records very
carefully, had the least idea who would get the prize for valor.

"Perhaps we cannot award it this year," said the Principal. "Fifty
dollars should not be thrown away, nor a prize really bestowed on
anybody who has not merited it."

"There are chances for heroism in the simplest and most humble life,"
answered little Miss Riggs, the composition teacher.

That December was awfully cold. Storm and wind and snow. Blizzard and
gale and hurricane. You never saw anything like it. In the middle of
December the sexton was taken down with rheumatic fever, and there
wasn't a soul to ring the bell, or clear away the snow, or keep fires
going in the church, and not a man in the parish was willing to take the
extra work upon him. The old sexton was a good deal worried, for he
needed the little salary so much that he couldn't bear to give it up,
and in that village church there was no money to spare.

Sammy's mother sent bowls and pitchers of gruel and other things of the
sort to the sick man, and when Sammy took them he heard the talk of the
sexton and his wife. One night he came home, saying:

"Mother, I've made a bargain with Mr. Anderson, I'm going to be the
sexton of the church for the next three months."

"You, my boy, you're not strong enough. It's hard work shoveling snow
and breaking paths, and ringing the bell, and having the church warm on
Sunday, and the lamps filled and lighted. And you have your chores to do
at home."

"Yes, dear mammy, I'll manage; I'll go round and get the clothes for
you, and carry them home and do every single thing, just the same as
ever, and I'll try to keep Mr. Anderson's place for him too."

"I don't know that I ought to let you," said his mother.

But she did consent.

Then began Sammy's trial. He never had a moment to play. Other boys
could go skating on Saturday, but he had to stay around the church, and
dust and sweep, and put the cushions down in the pews, and see that the
old stoves were all right, as to dampers and draughts, bring coal up
from the cellar, have wood split, lamps filled, wicks cut, chimneys
polished. The big bell was hard to ring, hard for a fourteen-year-old
boy. At first, for the fun