you, and pencils, too. I thought we might need them."

Then the president made a few remarks, but while she talked, Miss Carr
was excitedly opening the tablet. Miss Carr was always excited, and
always fluttering, and always giggling girlishly. Carol called her a
sweet old simpering soul, and so she was. But now, right in the midst
of the president's serious remarks, she quite giggled out.

The president stared at her in amazement. The Ladies looked up
curiously. Miss Carr was bending low over the tablet, and laughing
gaily to herself.

"Oh, this is very cute," she said. "Who wrote it? Oh, it is just real
cunning."

Fairy sprang up, suddenly scarlet. "Oh, perhaps you have one of the
twins' books, and they're always scribbling and----"

"No, it is yours, Fairy. I got it from among your school-books."

Fairy sank back, intensely mortified, and Miss Carr chirped brightly:

"Oh, Fairy, dear, did you write this little poem? How perfectly sweet!
And what a queer, sentimental little creature you are. I never dreamed
you were so romantic. Mayn't I read it aloud?"

Fairy was speechless, but the Ladies, including the president, were
impatiently waiting. So Miss Carr began reading in a sentimental,
dreamy voice that must have been very fetching fifty years before. At
the first suggestion of poetry, Prudence sat up with conscious