As is usual, in any such school event, some were really good, others were neither very good, nor very bad, but all others were forgotten when Gwen Harcourt commenced to read.
If Gwen Harcourt was vain, conceited, too much of a baby for a child of her age, it was largely the fault of her silly mother, whose beauty, and power to charm were great, but whose mind was exceedingly shallow.
She loved Gwen deeply, even too deeply to see any faults, and so in her blind love, she of course, could never correct these defects that she could not see, and that made the pretty child exceedingly unattractive.
Her composition was a good example of what a silly child, with an even sillier mother could do, in the way of original work, for surely the essay was original.
Gwen pranced up onto the platform, made a graceful little bow, and then, nodding to the class she said: "This really, truly happened! E'hem!
"The Ostrich.
"The ostrich that I'm to tell about was in the Zoo in a big city where I went once, and he must have been the biggest ostrich that anyone ever saw.
"He was as big as a horse, and so he ought to have been called a _hoss_trich.
"His feathers were all the colors that folks wear on their hats,—" She paused to note what impression she was making, and a doubting small boy, murmured;
"Oo—o—o!"