favorite knight. As he
read of their deeds his black eyes flashed, his nervous slim body
quivered, the deep rich red flooded his brown cheeks. He was one of
them, took part in their tournaments, rescued the lovely ladies and
overcame wicked monsters for his king.

Of all the stories a never-to-be-forgotten one was of a little boy like
himself who lived in a small cottage near a castle which harbored many
knights. This little boy idolized them even as Donald did. One day as
the knights were returning from a strenuous day's work, one, weary and
worn, stopped at the cottage and asked for a drink of water. Eagerly the
boy ran, filled his cup at the brimming spring, and gave it to the
knight.

"Thank you, my little boy," smiled the man. "Already you are a knight
for you have learned the lesson of service."

How Donald envied the boy. To serve a knight, he dreamed, even to see
one. Would he had lived in the olden times when knighthood was in
flower. But having been born centuries too late he tried in every way to
live as the knights had lived. Daily he exercised, practiced physical
feats, restrained himself from over indulgence, following out the
program of those who would be knights. With shining eyes he would often
repeat his motto, the motto of Arthur's knights: "Live pure, speak the
truth, right the wrong, follow the Christ."

Thus dreaming Donald grew and everybody loved him. Dreamer though he
was, he ever kept before him the ideal of service. Tense with interest
in the exploits of the black knight, he was often tempted not to answer
when his mother called him from his reading to go on errands. Only a
second, however, would temptation last. Launcelot could never approve of
a boy who acted dishonestly.

Working, playing, and dreaming, Donald grew into a lovable boy, adept
in all of the sports of boyhood and with the manners of a prince. He had
reached the last year in grammar school, the graduating class. Already
the obligations of maturity were forcing themselves upon the boys and
girls. They, for the first time in their school career, were an
organized group. They were going to elect officers, dignified officers.
Nominations had been many and enthusiasm surged around the youthful
candidates, but the choice for president had narrowed itself down
between Donald and a laughing-eyed girl with crinkly black hair. As
usual there were more girls in the class than boys, but while the boys
stood solidly as one behind the m