been given in the book.

"Simply apply the rule and make your own," said Miss Amanda.

But it did not seem simple; Emily Louise was still thinking in the
concrete.

Hattie had grasped abstractions. Hattie waved her hand. There was a
scarlet spot upon her cheek. Before school there had been words between
Hattie and Isobel. The politics of the President of the United States
had figured in it, and Emily Louise had learned that the President was a
Republican. And yet flags! And processions!

Miss Amanda said, "Well, Hattie?"

Hattie arose. "There is a single, only, solitary Republican pupil in
this class," said she promptly and with emphasis.

Miss Amanda might proceed to consider the proposition grammatically, her
mind being on the rule, and not the import, but the class interpreted it
as Hattie meant they should. In their midst! And unsuspected!

Emily Louise grew hot. Could Hattie, would Hattie, do this thing?
Hattie, accuse her thus? Yet who else could Hattie mean? The heart of
Emily Louise swelled--Hattie to do this thing!

And Hattie was wrong. She should know that she was wrong. She should
read it in her own autograph album, just brought to Emily Louise for her
inscribing. Emily Louise remained in at recess. Verse was beyond her.
She recognised her limitations. Some are born to prose and some to
higher things. She applied herself to a plain statement in Hattie's
album:

Dear Hattie: I am a Mugwump and your true friend.
Emily Louise Maclauren.

Then she put the book on Hattie's desk as the bell rang.

With the class came a visible and audible excitement. Mr. Page followed,
his hair wildly erect, and he conversed with Miss Amanda hurriedly.

With visual signalling and labial dumb show, Emily Louise implored
enlightenment.

"Ours is the honour class, so we're to be chosen," enunciated Hattie, in
a staccato whisper.

Rosalie was nearer. "There's to be a presentation--in the Chapel,"
whispered Rosalie; "sh-h--he's going to choose us--now----"

Mr. Page and Miss Amanda were surveying the class. Some two score pairs
of eager eyes sought each to stay those glances upon themselves. Perhaps
Mr. Page lacked courage.

"The choice I leave to you," said he to Miss Amanda. Then he went.

Miss Amanda was also visibly excited. She settled her chain and puffed
the elaborate coiffure of her hair, the while she continued to survey
the class. She looked hesitant and undecided,