were bubbling over with spirits--spirits of whose origin there was no
reasonable ground for doubt.

Suddenly Hughie Murray, the minister's boy, a very special imp, held up
his hand.

"Well, Hughie," said the master, for the tenth time within the hour
replying to the signal.

"Spelling-match!"

The master hesitated. It would be a vast relief, but it was a little
like shirking. On all sides, however, hands went up in support of
Hughie's proposal, and having hesitated, he felt he must surrender or
become terrifying at once.

"Very well," he said; "Margaret Aird and Thomas Finch will act as
captains." At once there was a gleeful hubbub. Slates and books were
slung into desks.

"Order! or no spelling-match." The alternative was awful enough to quiet
even the impish Hughie, who knew the tone carried no idle threat, and
who loved a spelling-match with all the ardor of his little fighting
soul.

The captains took their places on each side of the school, and with
careful deliberation, began the selecting of their men, scanning
anxiously the rows of faces looking at the maps or out of the windows
and bravely trying to seem unconcerned. Chivalry demanded that Margaret
should have first choice. "Hughie Murray!" called out Margaret;