"The angels are sad when you despair, little boy. Gather your energies. Receive your prize! You are ungrateful to the flower which has grown into so beautiful a plant for
your sake. You are ungrateful to your God thus to abandon hope when you possess one of His greatest gifts."
"What gift?"
"Youth, a magic watchword that can open the enchanted gates in the land of genius."
"Genius?" said the boy wonderingly. "I have never heard of it."
"Live your life. Lose not a moment. At your years time flies. Be a great and a good man. Persevere. Out of the mire of this wilderness a golden flower shall rear its head, and grow in beauty day by day. It may even reach the Sun-lands."
III.
The schoolroom looked like a little paradise to the poor waifs assembled there. Many flags hung from the roof, and festoons of evergreens decorated the walls. A raised platform was covered with scarlet cloth. On this were many well-dressed ladies, the seat of honour being filled by Lord Eltonville, who had consented to distribute the prizes. The geraniums were displayed around the room. Some amongst them were frail and sickly looking,—they had not been able to thrive in their squalid and sunless abodes,—others