in particular, kept the Banner for a full month,
grimly holding it against all comers, came they ever so regularly and
punctually.

Suddenly a new and melancholy factor entered into the competition. An
epidemic of small-pox broke out in the East End, with its haphazard
effects upon the varying classes. Red marks, and black marks, medals
and prizes, all was luck and lottery. The pride of the fifth standard
was laid low; one of its girls was attacked, two others were kept at
home through parental panic. A disturbing insecurity as of an
earthquake vibrated through the school. In Bloomah's class alone--as
if inspired by her martial determination--the ranks stood firm,
unwavering.

The epidemic spread. The Ghetto began to talk of special psalms in the
little synagogues.

In this crisis which the epidemic produced the Banner seemed drifting
steadily towards Bloomah and her mates. They started Monday morning
with all hands on deck, so to speak; they sailed round Tuesday and
Wednesday without a black mark in the school-log. The Thursday on
which they had so often split was passed under full canvas, and if
they could only get through Friday the trophy was theirs.

And Friday was the easiest day of all, inasmuch as, in view of the
incoming Sabbath, it finished earlier. School did not break up between
the two attendances; there was a mere dinner-interval in the
playground at midday. Nobody could get away, and whoever scored the
first mark was sure of the second.

Bloomah was up before dawn on the fateful winter morning; she could
run no risks of being late. She polished off all her house-work,
wondering anxiously if any of her classmates would oversleep herself,
yet at heart confident that all were as eager as she. Still there was
always that troublesome small-pox----! She breathed a prayer that God
would keep all the little girls and send them the Banner.

As she sat at breakfast the postman brought a post-card for her
mother. Bloomah's heart was in her mouth when Mrs. Beckenstein clucked
her tongue in reading it. She felt sure that the epidemic had invaded
one of those numerous family hearths.

Her mother handed her the card silently.

'DEAR MOTHER,
'I am rakked with neuraljia. Send Bloomah to fry the fish.
'BECKY.'

Bloomah turned white; this was scarcely less tragic.

'Poor Becky!' said her heedless parent.

'There's time after school,' she faltered.

'What!' shrieked Mrs. Becken