other studies;
and, of course, as good scholarship always will, this added to the
influence which her sterling moral worth and kindly ways had already
given her.

There was one dunce in her mathematical class who gave her great
annoyance; it was Carrie Smyth, a Southern girl, into whose dull head
no figures ever penetrated.

There was something really pitiable as she sat, book in hand, trying
to puzzle out the simplest problem, and Marion often helped her, until
Miss Palmer prohibited it.

"I will not allow it," she said decidedly. "If Carrie cannot get her
own lessons we ought to know it, and to treat her accordingly.
Whatever assistance she needs, I prefer to give her myself."

Marion obeyed, and Carrie cried, but the consequences followed at
once.

Carrie soon learned to copy from Marion's slate whatever she needed,
and, as Marion sat next her in the class, this was an easy thing to
do; and as Miss Palmer, wisely, seldom asked Carrie any but the
simplest questions, well knowing how useless any others would be, she
escaped detection until, one day, grown bolder by her escapes, she
copied from Marion more openly, Marion seeing her. That this might
have happened once, but never would again, Marion felt quite sure; but
what was her dismay, when she saw it continue day after day. She was
ashamed to let Carrie know of her discovery, as many another noble
girl has been under similar circumstances, but she knew well that it
could not be allowed, and that to pretend ignorance of the fact was
wrong.

She moved her seat, but, after staring at her blankly out of her dull
eyes, Carrie moved hers to her side, and the class all laughed at this
demonstration of affection; but Miss Palmer, who had taught long
enough to know that it might mean something but affection, watched
them. She had not long to do so before she discovered Carrie's trick,
Marion's knowledge of it, and her embarrassment.

After recitation, she told them to remain, and when they were alone
together she said,--

"Marion Parke! how long have you known that Carrie Smyth copied her
sums off your slate?"

Poor Marion! She looked at Miss Palmer, then at Carrie; the color came
into her face, and the tears into her eyes, but she did not answer a
word.

Miss Palmer repeated her question with much asperity. Still no answer,
but two large tears on Marion's cheeks.

"You do not choose to answer me" (a little more gently now): "I shall
report your behavior to