ere too generous to withhold.

Dorothy had worked very hard on her essay. It was carefully and well
done; but Gladys's, short, brilliant, straight to the point, without
pause or repetition, was an effort of which an older, more accustomed
writer need not have been ashamed.

But neither of these, they decided, could hold any comparison with
Susan's. It was Marion who, though she did not recognize the poem,
could not forget "Storied West Rock," that listened with a troubled
face, and only added a few faint words to those of the others'
praise.

"She is an ugly, jealous old thing!" Susan made herself think, as she
watched her narrowly; but then would come the thought, "I wonder if
she suspects me?" remembering the story, and a cloud fell instantly
over the bright sky of her hopes. But she was not to escape so easily;
when she carried her poem to Miss Randall, she only glanced at the
heading and down over the neatly written page, without reading a line,
then said, "Come to me to-morrow afternoon at three, and we will read
and correct it together. I hope you have made a success of it."

Susan almost counted the hours until three came; then, proud and
happy, she presented herself at Miss Randall's door.

The teacher had the poem on a table before her, and by its side a
book, the covers of which Susan recognized at once as being the volume
from which she had stolen the poem.

"Sit down, Susan," said Miss Randall gravely.

Then without another word she began to read first a line of Susan's
poem, then one from the poem in the book, pausing over the changed
words, to substitute the one for the other.

In truth, the changes were very few, how few Susan had not realized
until they were thus set before her.

"This is hardly what might be called a parody," Miss Randall said as
she ended, looking gravely into Susan's face. "I suppose you had no
idea of passing it off as your own work?"

How inevitably one wrong act leads to another! There is an old saying
that "one lie takes a hundred to cover it," and it is true.

Susan had confidently expected this to pass for her own; but now,
without a moment's hesitation, looking Miss Randall fully in the face,
with a pleasant smile she said,--

"Oh, no, Miss Randall! I knew you would recognize it; you are too good
a teacher of literature not to suppose you would be familiar with such
a fine poem as that. I thought if I made a successful parody, it would
be better than any poor thi