it. The
geography classes had recited, and the language work was on. Those too
small for these studies were playing a game under the leadership of Jinnie
Simms, who had been promoted to the position of weed-seed monitor.

The game was forfeits. Each child had been encouraged to bring some sort
of weed from the winter fields--preferably one the seed of which still
clung to the dried receptacles--but anyhow, a weed. Some pupils had
brought merely empty tassels, some bare stalks, and some seeds which they
had winnowed from the grain in their father's bins; and with them they
played forfeits. They counted out by the "arey, Ira, ickery an'" method,
and somebody was "It." Then, in order, they presented to him a seed, stalk
or head of a weed, and if the one who was It could tell the name of the
weed, the child who brought the specimen became It, and the name was
written on slates or tablets, and the new It told where the weed or seed
was collected. If any pupil brought in a specimen the name of which he
himself could not correctly give, he paid a forfeit. If a specimen was
brought in not found in the school cabinet--which was coming to contain a
considerable collection--it was placed there, and the task allotted to the
best penman in the school to write its proper label. All this caused
excitement, and not a little buzz--but it ceased when the county
superintendent entered the room.

For it was after the first of January, and Jennie was visiting the
Woodruff school.

The group in the back of the room went on with its conference, oblivious
of the entrance of Superintendent Jennie. Their work was rather absorbing,
being no more nor less than the compilation of the figures of a cow census
of the district.

"Altogether," said Mary Talcott, "we have in the district one hundred and
fifty-three cows."

"I don't make it that," said Raymond Simms. "I don't get but a hundred and
thirty-eight."

"The trouble is," said Newton Bronson, "that Mary's counting in the Bailey
herd of Shorthorns."

"Well, they're cows, ain't they?" interrogated Mary.

"Not for this census," said Raymond.

"Why not?" asked Mary. "They're the prettiest cows in the neighborhood."

"Scotch Shorthorns," said Newton, "and run with their calves."

"Leave them out," said Jim, "and to-morrow, I want each one to tell in the
language class, in three hundred words or less, whether there are enough
cows in the district to justify a cooperative creamery, and giv