I nodded at them, generously.
"I'll write one for everybody," I declared, with a glow of pleasure.
"But don't tell anyone," Janet cautioned.
I couldn't understand why she insisted on making a secret of it. It seemed so strange. But I promised to tell no one, not even my own mother.
We always had two days in which to write our compositions. I did ten in that time. I wrote them out roughly on great sheets of wrapping paper. I wrote them up in the garret by the window where the wasps lived, and I had such a grand time that I never noticed the wasps at all; but went on and on finding something new to say every minute, and loving to say it. Only it was hard when the sentences happened to come out beautifully not to be able to show them to my mother. But I had promised. However, the very best composition of all was to be my own, and that I might show to her. I remember it was on "The Beauty of Truth."
"It's very nice," my mother said, when it was put in her hand. "It's—it's almost like a sermon!"
She looked at the composition, with an odd smile of pleasure, and then she drew me to her and kissed me fondly.
"I think Rhoda would make a fine wife for a minister," I heard her tell my father, excitedly. "She's got so much natural piety!"
I was very happy that morning as I went to school. I carried my roll of wrapping paper under my arm, and when I reached Mrs. Garfield's I divided the compositions among the girls, so that they might each copy her own. Afterwards they were all handed up to Miss Lucy and school began.
Miss Lucy took a long time over the compositions. She read them and read them. She looked astonished, and, also, a trifle pleased. At last she gathered them all up in a bundle, and went out of the room. It was very quiet in the room. Every little girl sat at her desk and studied very busily. All except Janet McLarin. She opened the side window and climbed out. The last we could see of her was her bright hair vanishing around the corner with a rush. Then we could hear the sound of Miss Lucy's stout boots coming along the hall, and a swish of silk beside her.