"Why, Isa, to hear you talk, one would think that Cassy was dull! I'm sure Cassy's smart!"
"O, dear me," said Isa, "how you do take a body up! I said Cassy's the last person to be afraid of,—I mean for you to be afraid of. She's smart, Cassy is; but then everybody knows, Gracie, she isn't so smart as you are, and don't begin to be."
"I'd like to know," thought Grace, as she parted with Isa, and walked from the acorn-tree alone,—"I'd just like to know what does possess Isa to be so spiteful about Cassy! I wish that darling old Cassy was here this minute! I don't see what I did without her all last summer, when I was east!"
"Ma," cried Grace, rushing into the parlor, swinging her hat by one string, "just guess what a splendid thing has happened! The three live trustees were all in school this day, and you never saw the like of the way they smiled and patted us on the head, ma! And they're going to give a beautiful prize to the one that improves most between this and July, and passes the best examination for the High School, you know."
"Indeed, and shall you try for it, my dear?"
"I don't know, ma," replied Grace, with quivering lips; for just at that moment Mahla's words, "Grace Clifford will get it; I'm sure she will," came back and rang in her ears.
Mrs. Clifford saw that something was troubling her daughter, but refrained from asking any questions. She always preferred that Grace should confide in her of her own free will.
"I don't know, my child," said she, "that I can say I am glad of this project."
"But wouldn't you be proud to have me get it—not the least bit proud, ma?"
Mrs. Clifford smiled meaningly.