"Nellie Fry! Come here, dear."
Nellie Fry, an a, b, c student, came running in, her yellow locks flying straight out behind her.
"What is it, Miss Grant?"
"Nellie, did you see Mr. Brierly at breakfast?"
"Yes'm!"
"And—quite well?"
"Why—I guess so. He talked just like he does always, and asked the blessin'. He—he ate a lot, too—for him. I 'member ma speakin' of it."
"You remember, Nellie."
Miss Grant kissed the child and walked to her desk, bending over her roll call, and seeming busy over it until the clock upon the opposite wall struck the hour of nine, and Johnny's face appeared at the door, simultaneously with the last stroke.
"Sh'll I ring, Miss Grant?"