fter dark one could hear a sound of sleigh-bells in the
distance. Away on drifted pike and crossroad the bells began to
fling their music. It seemed to come in rippling streams of sound
through the still air, each with its own voice. In half an hour
countless echoes filled the space between them, and all were as one
chorus, wherein, as it came near, one could distinguish song and
laughter.

Young people from afar came in cutters and by the sleigh load;
those who lived near, afoot with lanterns. They were a merry
company, crowding the schoolhouse, laughing and whispering as they
waited for the first exhibit. Trove called them to order and made
a few remarks.

"Remember," said he, "this is not our exhibition. It is only a
sort of preparation for one we have planned. In about twenty years
the Linley School is to give an exhibition worth seeing. It will
be, I believe, an exhibition of happiness, ability, and success on
the great stage of the world. Then I hope to have on the programme
speeches in Congress, in the pulpit, and at the bar. You shall see
in that play, if I mistake not, homes full of love and honour, men
and women of fair fame. It may be you shall see, then, some whose
names are known and honoured of all men."

Each performer quaked with fear, and both sympathy and approval
were in the applause. Miss Polly Vaughn was a rare picture of
rustic beauty, her cheeks as red as her ribbons, her voice low and
sweet. Trove came out in the audience for a look at her as she
read. Ringing salvos of laughter greeted the play and stirred the
sleigh-bells on the startled horses beyond the door. The programme
over, somebody called for Squire Town, a local pettifogger, who
flung his soul and body into every cause. He often sored his
knuckles on the court table and racked his frame with the violence
of his rhetoric. He had a stock of impassioned remarks ready for
all occasions.

He rose, walked to the centre of the stage, looked sternly at the
people, and addressed them as "Fellow Citizens." He belaboured the
small table; he rose on tiptoe and fell upon his heels; often he
seemed to fling his words with a rapid jerk of his right arm as one
hurls a pebble. It was all in praise of his "young friend," the
teacher, and the high talent of Linley School.

The exhibition ended with this rare exhibit of eloquence. Trove
announced the organization of a singing-school for Monday evening
of the next week, and then