It was a sort of examination of the school; and prizes for scholarship, declamation and composition were awarded by the principal.
There was no little emulation and rivalry among the pupils with regard to the prizes; but it was generally conceded by all that the composition-prize, which ranked first, would be gained by Susan or Florence.
Both wrote remarkably good compositions; and it was a disputed point which was the superior writer.
On this occasion both seemed determined to do their very best; and not only they, but the whole school, felt deeply interested in the contest.
It was the night before the exhibition.
Florence’s essay, neatly copied and tied together with blue ribbon, lay on the table before her; and, at the request of a large number of the girls who were in the room, she read it to them.
It was warmly applauded, and pronounced the very best thing she had ever written.
Susan had listened to its reading attentively.
“It is certainly very fine,” she said at its close.
“Read your’s now,” was the unanimous request; and she was about to do so, when the signal for retiring was given.