"There are other schools going in for the competition though," added Carrie dolefully.
"But three prizes are offered."
The scrap album was packed up at last in a big parcel, and left at the house of one of the judges. Three weeks passed by, and Va languished for news. They began to be afraid that they should not know the result before the holidays. One day, however, Lizzie Logan came to school with a look of most unwonted excitement on her usually stolid face. Her voice, which was generally a scared whisper, was actually audible over half the cloakroom as she announced:
"My uncle told me last night that we've won the first prize."
Such a chorus of jubilee instantly arose that Lizzie's utterances were drowned. Those in her immediate vicinity dragged forth details of information and proclaimed them for the benefit of the others.
"A committee of six, including the Lady Mayoress, sat on the books."
"Sat on them! Oh, horrors!"
"And the Lady Mayoress is so fat!"
"Don't be utter idiots. Committees always sit on things. No! No! Can't you get it into your stupid heads? Not really sit. It's just an expression."
"Hold me up. I thought our champion book was squashed as flat as a pancake."