istening
rhinestones!"

The fortunate maiden scurried back to her mother as fast as her stocky
little legs could carry her.

"Number seven-hundred-fifteen! Number seven-hundred-fifteen!"

"Here!" shrieked John, as he nearly knocked the boy ahead of him over in
an excited effort to get to the front. "That's me!" Was it another pair
of skates, or a baseball bat, or the big, shining jack-knife which the
boys had told about?

"Number seven-fifteen is a boy, is it?" The professor's eyes twinkled.

"Ye--s--sir," stammered John, nervously.

"William," ordered the distributor of prizes as he half turned to the
exit in the wings. "Bring out that doll carriage!"

The house broke into vociferous mirth. Silvey, hailing him at the top of
his lungs, counseled him to "Give it to her! Give it to her!" Sid
DuPree's face grinned maliciously at him from the first row. Slowly he
stumbled down the aisle with the despised toy bumping after him, and
rejoined Louise.

He scarcely heard the numbers of the other prize winners as they were
called out. Nor did he pay attention to the professor's lecture on the
operation of the famous whistle which had so amused the audience that
afternoon.

Someway or other, he found himself out on the street with Louise. About
him, boys scampered home in the fast gathering dusk. One or two yelled
taunts about the doll carriage, and John was tempted to throw the
wicker-bodied pest into the street.

Louise was silent. She wanted to offer consolation, for she felt that
her escort was dangerously near tears over his humiliation, but she knew
not how to begin. They sauntered along. John eyed the little piece of
tape bound tin in the girl's hand with reawakening interest.

"Would you like it?" she asked graciously.

He murmured a husky "yes," and put the whistle in his mouth. After a few
uncertain "J-u-u-dys," he trudged on again in silence.

As they stopped in front of her apartment, John had an inspiration.

"Say, Louise," he began awkwardly, "I don't want this doll carriage.
Want it?"

And though his words were ungracious, she caught the spirit which lay
back of them and thanked him sweetly.

Thereupon, John skipped happily homeward to make his parents miserable
with divers attempts to imitate the noted T. J.'s Punch and Judy show.
Two days later, he left the noise-maker lying on the floor by his bed,
where Mrs. Fletcher confiscated it, and quiet reigned in the family
again.

CHAPTER VI