“Wrong.”
Emmy Lou stood up. It was the second word in a column on a picture page. Emmy Lou could see it. She looked at Dear Teacher.
“R-e, re, c-e-i-v-e, ceive, receive,” said Emmy Lou.
One person beside Kitty had noted the blackboard. Already the Principal was passing an eraser across the words of the visiting gentleman.
Dear Teacher’s cheeks were pink as Emmy Lou’s as she led Emmy Lou to receive the medal. And her head was finely erect. She held Emmy Lou’s hand through it all.
The visiting gentleman’s manner was a little stony. It had quite lost its playfulness. He looked almost gloomily on the mother who had upheld the pillars of state and the future generally.
It was a beautiful medal. It was a five-pointed star. It said “Reward of Merit.”
The visiting gentleman lifted it from its bed of pink cotton.
“You must get a ribbon for it,” said Dear Teacher.
Emmy Lou slipped her hand from Dear Teacher’s. She went to the front desk. She got her Second Reader, and brought forth a folded packet from behind the criss-cross stitches holding the cover.