ake it seem more like good
writing. 'One opens a favorite book;' 'One's thoughts are a great
comfort in solitude,' and so on."

"I don't know any more about solitude this week than I did about joy
and duty last week," grumbled Rebecca.

"You tried to be funny about joy and duty," said Miss Dearborn
reprovingly; "so of course you didn't succeed."

"I didn't know you were going to make us read the things out loud,"
said Rebecca with an embarrassed smile of recollection.

"Joy and Duty" had been the inspiring subject given to the older
children for a theme to be written in five minutes.

Rebecca had wrestled, struggled, perspired in vain. When her turn came
to read she was obliged to confess she had written nothing.

"You have at least two lines, Rebecca," insisted the teacher, "for I
see them on your slate."

"I'd rather not read them, please; they are not good," pleaded Rebecca.

"Read what you have, good or bad, little or much; I am excusing nobody."

Rebecca rose, overcome with secret laughter dread, and mortification;
then in a low voice she read the couplet:--

When Joy and Duty clash
Let Duty go to smash.

Dick Carter's head disappeared under the desk, while Living Perkins
choked with laughter.

Miss Dearborn laughed too; she was little more than a girl, and the
training of the young idea seldom appealed to the sense of humor.

"You must stay after school and try again, Rebecca," she said, but she
said it smilingly. "Your poetry hasn't a very nice idea in it for a
good little girl who ought to love duty."

"It wasn't MY idea," said Rebecca apologetically. "I had only made the
first line when I saw you were going to ring the bell and say the time
was up. I had 'clash' written, and I couldn't think of anything then
but 'hash' or 'rash' or 'smash.' I'll change it to this:--

When Joy and Duty clash,
'T is Joy must go to smash."

"That is better," Miss Dearborn answered, "though I cannot think 'going
to smash' is a pretty expression for poetry."

Having been instructed in the use of the indefinite pronoun "one" as
giving a refined and elegant touch to literary efforts, Rebecca
painstakingly rewrote her composition on solitude, giving it all the
benefit of Miss Dearborn's suggestion. It then appeared in the
following form, which hardly satisfied either teacher or pupil:--

SOLITUDE

It would be false to say that one could ever be alone when one has
one's lovely thoughts to comfort