"Now for our little friends here," said Mr. Ashton, turning to the younger children. "The greatest number of perfect lessons has been recited by Miss Gracie Howard. She stands four ahead of any other in her class; therefore she is justly entitled to the prize;" and he held towards Gracie a box containing a prettily bound set of those little library volumes so dear to the eyes and hearts of children.
She rose and came forward to receive it with a self-satisfied air, which said, as plainly as could be without words, "Only look at me! Am I not a wonderful child? Do you not envy my father and mother?"
But, in spite of their gratification at her success, her father and mother did not feel that they were to be envied just then. It was all spoiled by the little toss of the head, the look which swept the room seeking for admiration, and the conceited air which were the outward signs of Gracie's intense vanity; and her mother thought she would far rather see her as shy and shrinking as Maggie Bradford.
Gracie courtesied when Mr. Ashton placed the books in her hand; and then stood still as if waiting—for what? So confident did she feel that the gentleman would, the next moment, call her name again, and bestow upon her the yet more coveted composition prize—that beautiful little rosewood writing-desk—that it did not seem worth while to go back to her seat; and she actually remained waiting for it, till recalled to herself by Miss Ashton's "Gracie!" and the motion of her teacher's hand directing her to take her place.
"With regard to the compositions written by this younger class," continued Mr. Ashton, "I must say that they are all very well done, remarkably so for such little girls, and show great pains taken both by the teacher and the taught. Three of them are so nearly equal in merit, that I found some difficulty in judging between them."
Three! Maggie's must be one; Gracie's another; but whose could the third be? The children looked from one to another in surprise.
"The one called 'The Angel's Wanderings,'" said Mr. Ashton, "contains a great deal of poetry and originality;"—some of the little ones wondered what that long word meant, and the royal eyes peeped up from under the royal eyelashes, half-shyly, half-delighted—oh, was it really coming to her?—"but the other two of which I have spoken excel it in some respects. These are 'Christmas Holidays' and 'A Sunday Walk;' and this last, written by Miss Nellie Ransom, I have decided on the whole to be the most worthy of the prize. The neatness and care with which this paper has been copied and presented have gone some way in fixing a choice which was somewhat difficult. Miss Nellie Ransom, my dear."
Nellie Ransom! studious, painstaking, but not remarkably clever Nellie, whom not one in the school had ever thought of as the winner of the prize. Even Miss Ashton was rather surprised, though she knew better what Nellie could do than any of her schoolmates did; but no one was more astonished than the modest little girl herself. Mr. Ashton repeated her name more than once, while she sat still in mute amazement; and, even then, she had to be urged forward by the little girls on either side of her.
"Don't you hear, Nellie? Go, Nellie. The prize is for you; go take it, Nellie," was whispered around her before she could collect herself sufficiently to go up and receive the desk from Mr. Ashton's hands.
To describe Gracie's astonishment and indignation would be quite impossible. The pretty reward she had already won had no longer any charm in her eyes, since that she had regarded as her own was lost to her. And after all her boasting! Tears of mortification and disappointment welled up to her eyes, and would not be kept back; and an angry sob, and a murmur of "It's not fair; mine was the best!" broke from her.