rbara," she said icily, "if you cannot move without falling
over something you'd better remain in your seat. It is positively
disgraceful for a girl of your age to be so awkward."

Poor Barbara stumbled back to her desk, her tears combining with the
coal dust to produce an effect truly grotesque. Never before had her
beloved, sympathetic teacher spoken to her in such a tone or fashion,
and Barbara was heartbroken. Anne herself felt a prick of conscience but
it only served to increase her mental irritation, and the second reader
class remember that lesson yet, as well as the unmerciful infliction
of arithmetic that followed. Just as Anne was snapping the sums out St.
Clair Donnell arrived breathlessly.

"You are half an hour late, St. Clair," Anne reminded him frigidly. "Why
is this?"

"Please, miss, I had to help ma make a pudding for dinner 'cause we're
expecting company and Clarice Almira's sick," was St. Clair's answer,
given in a perfectly respectful voice but nevertheless provocative of
great mirth among his mates.

"Take your seat and work out the six problems on page eighty-four of
your arithmetic for punishment," said Anne. St. Clair looked rather
amazed at her tone but he went meekly to his desk and took out his
slate. Then he stealthily passed a small parcel to Joe Sloane across the
aisle. Anne caught him in the act and jumped to a fatal conclusion about
that parcel.

Old Mrs. Hiram Sloane had lately taken to making and selling "nut cakes"
by way of adding to her scanty income. The cakes were specially tempting
to small boys and for several weeks Anne had had not a little trouble in
regard to them. On their way to school the boys would invest their spare
cash at Mrs. Hiram's, bring the cakes along with them to school, and, if
possible, eat them and treat their mates during school hours. Anne had
warned them that if they brought any more cakes to school they would be
confiscated; and yet here was St. Clair Donnell coolly passing a parcel
of them, wrapped up in the blue and white striped paper Mrs. Hiram used,
under her very eyes.

"Joseph," said Anne quietly, "bring that parcel here."

Joe, startled and abashed, obeyed. He was a fat urchin who always
blushed and stuttered when he was frightened. Never did anybody look
more guilty than poor Joe at that moment.

"Throw it into the fire," said Anne.

Joe looked very blank.

"P . . . p . . . p . . . lease, m . . . m . . . miss," he began.

"Do as I te