"I don't know any more about solitude this week than I did about joy and duty last week," grumbled Rebecca.
"You tried to be funny about joy and duty," said Miss Dearborn reprovingly; "so of course you didn't succeed."
"I didn't know you were going to make us read the things out loud," said Rebecca with an embarrassed smile of recollection.
"Joy and Duty" had been the inspiring subject given to the older children for a theme to be written in five minutes.
Rebecca had wrestled, struggled, perspired in vain. When her turn came to read she was obliged to confess she had written nothing.
"You have at least two lines, Rebecca," insisted the teacher, "for I see them on your slate."
"I'd rather not read them, please; they are not good," pleaded Rebecca.
"Read what you have, good or bad, little or much; I am excusing nobody."
Rebecca rose, overcome with secret laughter, dread, and mortification; then in a low voice she read the couplet:—
When Joy and Duty clash
Let Duty go to smash.