'The drawing will begin,' said Alanna, 'and the Bishop will call out the number! And what’ll I say? Everyone will look at me; and how can I say I’ve lost it! Oh, what a baby they’ll call me!'
'Father’ll pay the money back,' she said, in sudden relief. But the impossibility of that swiftly occurred to her, and she began hunting again with fresh terror.
'But, he can’t! How can he? A hundred names; and I don’t know them, or half of them.'
Then she felt the tears coming, and she crept in under some benches, and cried.
She lay there a long time, listening to the curious hum and buzz above her. And at last it occurred to her to go to the Bishop, and tell this old, kind friend the truth.
But she was too late. As she got to her feet, she heard her own name called from the platform, in the Bishop’s voice.
'Where’s Alanna Costello? Ask her who has number eighty-three on the desk. Eighty-three wins the desk! Find little Alanna Costello!'
Alanna had no time for thought. Only one course of action occurred to her. She cleared her throat.
'Mrs. Will Church has that number, Bishop,' she said.
The crowd about her gave way, and the Bishop saw her, rosy, embarrassed, and breathless.