rs. Bryant diffidently made her bow, and recited, with real
dramatic effect:

"AN UNVISITED LOCALITY

"I wisht I was as big as men,
To see the Town of After Ten;
I've heard it is so bright and gay,
It's almost like another day.
But to my bed I'm packed off straight
When that old clock strikes half-past eight!
It's awful hard to be a boy
And never know the sort of joy
That grown-up people must have when
They're in the Town of After Ten.
I'm sure I don't know what they do,
For shops are closed, and churches too.
Perhaps with burglars they go 'round,
And do not dare to make a sound!
Well, soon I'll be a man, and then
I'll see the Town of After Ten!"

"Oh, Cousin Ethel, you're lovely!" cried Marjorie, forgetting her role
for the moment. But King took it up.

"Yes, little Ethel," he said, "you recite very nicely, for such a young
child. Now, go to your seat, and Helen Maynard may recite next."

"Mine is a Natural History Poem," said Mrs. Maynard, coming up to the
teacher's desk. "It is founded on fact, and it is highly instructive."

"That's nice," said King. "Go ahead with it."

So Mrs. Maynard made her bow and though not bashful, like Mrs. Bryant,
she was very funny, for she pretended to forget her lines, and
stammered and hesitated, and finally burst into pretended tears. But,
urged on and encouraged by the teachers, she finally concluded this gem
of poesy:

"THE WHISTLING WHALE

"A whistling whale once built his nest
On the very tiptop of a mountain's crest.
He wore a tunic and a blue cocked hat,
And for fear of mice he kept a cat.
The whistling whale had a good-sized mouth,
It measured three feet from north to south;
But when he whistled he puckered it up
Till it was as small as a coffee-cup.
The people came from far and near
This wonderful whistling whale to hear;
And in a most obliging way
He stood on his tail and whistled all day."

"That's a truly noble poem," commented King, as she finished. "Take your
seat, Helen; you have done splendidly, my little girl!"

"Now, Teddy Maynard, it's your turn," said Marjorie.

"After Jacky," declared Mr. Maynard, and nothing would induce him to
precede his friend.

"Mine is about a visit I paid to the Zoo," said Mr. Bryant, looking
modest. "I wrote it myself for a composition, but it turned out to be
poetry. I never can tell how my comp