, repeated for the third time, "Take your seat, Peace Greenfield!"

Much mortified and confused, the child subsided in her place and tried
to hide her burning cheeks behind the covers of her volume of anecdotes,
but fate seemed against her, for Miss Peyton promptly ordered the paint
boxes put away, the desks cleared, and the scholars to be prepared to
tell the stories they had found. Now it happened that generous-hearted
Peace had lent her book of Presidential reminiscences to several of her
less lucky mates that noon, and as she was one of the last to be called
upon, she listened with dismay as one after another of the tales she had
taken so much pains to learn were repeated by other scholars.

In order that all might hear what was said, each pupil marched to the
front of the room, told his little story and returned noiselessly to
his seat; so when it came Peace's turn, she stalked bravely up the
aisle, faced the throng of scared, perspiring children and beaming
mothers, made a profound bow, and said, "George Washington was
pock-marked."

She was well on her way to her seat again, when Miss Peyton's crisp
tones halted her: "Peace, you surely have something more than that. Have
you forgotten?"

"No, ma'am. I lent my stories to the rest of the scholars this noon and
they have already spoke all I knew, 'xcept those that are _hairy_ with
age. Everyone knows that George Washington was bled to death by
over-_jealous_ doctors."

The harder Peace tried to do her best, the more blundering she became;
and now, feeling that the visitors were having great fun at her expense,
she sank into her seat and buried her face in her arms, swallowing hard
to keep back the tears that stung her eyes.

Directly, she heard Patty Fellows reciting, "The Psalm of Life," and
Sara Gray answer to her name with, "The Castle-Builder." Next, the
children sang another song, and then--horror of horrors!--Miss Peyton
called her name. It was too bad! Any other teacher would have excused
her, but she knew Miss Peyton never would. So with a final gulp, she
struggled to her feet and advanced once more to the platform.

Her heart beat like a trip-hammer, her breath came in gasps, and her
mind seemed an utter blank. "'Come to me,'" prompted the teacher,
perceiving for the first time the child's panic and distress; but Peace
did not understand that this was her cue, and with a despairing glance
at the immovable face behind the desk, she cried hastily, "Oh,