"Mother, I feel just this way," Mahla would say sometimes: "if I can't get the prize, I hope Grace Clifford will, for she's the best girl in school."
Mrs. Linck was glad that Mahla felt so kindly towards her rival, but sighed as she looked at her daughter's pale face, and thought of the weary hours she had spent in study, while other girls were at play.
Examination-day came. It was sultry even for July. But the girls at the Grammar School, who had drooped like wilted flowers, now bloomed bright and fresh once more. Those who had new dresses wore them on this occasion, and all came to school with hair smoothly brushed the very last thing.
Ah, who does not know the flutter at the heart when the "three committee-men," or "trustees," knock; and are solemnly asked in and seated? Some of us have felt this flutter for the last time; but you children will understand just how the girls felt that day, with parents, older sisters, and neighbors to look on and criticise.
Tall Miss Allen looked serene, but there was a tremulous motion of her mouth and fingers. On her desk was a vase of beautiful flowers, which Grace had brought, carefully shielded under her sun-umbrella.
Mrs. Clifford and Mrs. Hallock, with a few other ladies, occupied the raised platform behind the desk. Mrs. Linck sat near the window, cooling her heated face by the use of a large feather fan.
Mahla was in her old seat; there was a beautiful pink color in her cheeks, which one could see was the flush of excitement, not the glow of health.
And over by the west window sat the bosom friends, Grace and Cassy, their tender friendship undisturbed by a single feeling of rivalry; for, owing to Cassy's long absence from school, she had not the faintest hope of the prize. Grace's sunny ringlets and sparkling eyes danced with eagerness. She looked as tidy as ever, in a thin blue dress, with rivulets of blue ribbon flowing down the skirt. Cassy's pensive face was lighted up with more than usual animation.
It was a pleasure to see these two young friends together. Mrs. Clifford looked at them with a smile which was half a tear, as she remembered just such a friendship in her own childhood. Many other ladies watched Grace and Cassy with interest, and were carried back to the "days that are no more"—days whose dewy freshness can no more he recalled than the sweet apple-blossoms which fell so softly into the grass last year.
But the question of the day was, "Who would get the prize?" Perhaps Captain Clifford, who sat with several other gentlemen near the door, felt more interest in the result than he confessed to himself. Horace stood near his father, as grave as a little judge. He ran over the whole school with his eye, and mentally decided that Grace was the prettiest girl in the room next to Cassy; for Cassy was his beau-ideal of beauty and goodness.