"It's dreadfully nice," said Lucy, cuddling up to Aunt Nancy for a good-night kiss. "Oh, I'd love to sit up all night and study."
"Hold out to the end," said Mr. Smith; "that's what will tell." And off the three children flew to their nests, to dream of George Washington dancing a war-dance on Bunker Hill, while Pocahontas read the Declaration of Independence.
It all went very well for two days. The children got up early in the morning, and otherwise made the most of their time. Then Harper's great friend Chuckie Bronson, who had received a wonderful dog from an uncle in the country, waxed so enthusiastic over the various tricks that the little spaniel performed that Harper couldn't help catching the fever. And it came to be quite the natural thing that when the little history class gathered around the big table, one of their number was missing, and Harper's book-mark remained stationary for many a long hour. And then, unfortunately for poor Lucy, who eagerly grasped every second from play-time to spend among the text-books and atlases, which by this time had become exceedingly fascinating, for her came one evening the final hour of study, and the last hope disappeared of her ever winning the coveted "First Prize." Hateful little red spots blossomed all over Lucy's face, as if by magic, so suddenly that no one noticed, until Joe, glancing up to find a word in the dictionary, discovered them, and nudged Aunt Nancy.
"Mercy!" said that individual, looking keenly over her spectacles at the little student—"if you haven't broken out with measles! Shut your book, child; it's dreadfully bad for the eyes. Now you mustn't read another word."
If Lucy was red as a rose before, now she was pale enough. All of the hateful little red spots seemed to run right in at the command, and hide their heads.
No more study! How could she give it up? Oh! and there were still ten days before the glorious Fourth!
With all Joe's sorrow for his little afflicted sister, with all his kindness of disposition, he couldn't help but rejoice just one wee bit at being sole conqueror—just for one minute, though. The next he said,
"See here, Lucy. I'll read 'em to you—every one of the questions, you know. There, don't cry, puss. And then you can learn the answers, and say 'em over and over; and—goodness me!—why, you'll learn a heap that way."
"I can't," moaned poor Lucy, screwing her fingers into her smarting eyes. "It'll put you back; you might be studying all that while, Joe. Oh dear! dear!"