so much irrelevance as might appear.

Elizabeth was all interest. To "pass" and go to the High School in the
neighboring town was the grand ambition of every boy and girl in Forest
Glen School.

"Oh, are you, Charles Stuart? Maybe John is, too."

"Yes." He was getting on famously now. "Father says I can. And I'm
going to college after."

"And what'll you be?" asked Elizabeth admiringly.

"I'm not sure," said Charles Stuart grandly. "Mother wants me to be a
minister, but I think I'd rather be a horse-doctor."

Elizabeth looked dubious. She did not like to differ from Mother
MacAllister, but she could not see how it would be possible to make
anything like a minister out of such an uncomfortable, hair-pulling
stone-thrower as Charles Stuart.

"You'd best be a horse-doctor, Charles Stuart," she advised wisely.
After all, that was a very noble calling, Elizabeth felt. Once a
horse-doctor had come out from town to Rosie Carrick's place and
Rosie's pussy had been sick, and he had given it medicine which cured
it. She related the incident for Charles Stuart's encouragement, but
he did not seem very favorably impressed. Pulling pussy-cats' tails
was more in Charles Stuart's line. He began to show leanings towards
the ministry.

"Mother says it's a grander thing to be a minister than anything else
in the world," he asserted. "But you have to know an awful lot, I
guess."

"And you have to be most awful good," said Elizabeth emphatically.

"Mother says you have to be most awful good no matter what you are,"
said Charles Stuart, with greater wisdom.

Elizabeth nodded; but she could not allow the ministry to be belittled.

"My father was nearly a minister once, but he said he wasn't good
enough, and he's the very, very goodest man that ever lived."

"It'll be easy to be good when we're grown up," said Charles Stuart.

"Oh, yes, ever so easy," said Elizabeth comfortably.

"And, say--Lizzie."

"What?"

Charles Stuart was looking embarrassed again. "I'm--I'm nearly twelve,
you know."

They had reached the big gate between the willows by this time.
Elizabeth flung her treasure trove upon the grass and, springing upon
the gate, swung out on to the road again.

"Well, I know that," she said, wondering what such gratuitous
information had to do either with being a minister or riding a gate,
"and I'm going on eleven."

Charles Stuart mounted on the other side and swung, too. It was rather
childish, bu