The teacher serving the sandwiches answered the principal.
"Of 'the impossibility of all things,'" she said with a curious sidewise smile.
The principal put his hand under Louise's chin and, tilting her head back, looked deep into her eyes.
"You must run and play a great deal," he said, and passed on.
Then, when the last sandwich had gone the way of all good sandwiches, they repaired to the front lawn.
It was all so wonderful—so green and cool and stately-looking. And there, sure enough, was the great new flag, curling and uncurling in the fitful wind—'way up against the sky!
The boys were already out on the green when the little girls were marched down the steps and disbanded among them to enjoy the most unusual privilege of joining in their games. Then, all suddenly a great awkwardness came down upon the girls. How was one to play with boys at recess? Of course after school it came natural enough to mingle with them, but this was not "after school"! It was most embarrassing.
Louise found herself timid in the chaperoned recess-presence of Jimmie and Billy and Luke, and began to back away toward the steps.
"Look out!" shouted Billy suddenly.
Louise jumped to "look out." Behind her, on the bottom step, sat the German spy. She had nearly backed into him!