The replies in every recitation were written upon the slate; there was no cheating, every slate was before the eyes of its neighbor, every word must be exact.

“READING MAKES A FULL MAN, CONFERENCE A READY MAN, WRITING AN EXACT MAN,” was one of the wall mottoes.

Marjorie had an amusing incident to relate to Miss Prudence about her first recitation in history.  The question was:  “What general reigned at this time?” The name of no general occurred.  Marjorie was nonplussed.  Pencils were rapidly in motion around her.  “Confusion” read the head girl.  Then to her chagrin Marjorie recalled the words in the lesson:  “General confusion reigned at this time.”

It was one of the master’s “catches”.  She found that he had an abundant supply.

Another thing that morning reminded her of that mysterious “vibgyor” of the old times.

Master McCosh told them they could clasp Alexander’s generals; then Pauline Hayes gave their names—­Cassander, Lysimachus, Antiognus, Seleucus and Ptolemy.  Marjorie had that to tell Miss Prudence.  Miss Prudence lived through her own school days that winter with Marjorie; the girl’s enthusiasm reminded her of her own.  Master McCosh, who never avoided personalities, observed as he marked the last recitation: 

“Miss West studies, young ladies; she has no more brains than one or two of the rest of you, but she has something that more than half of you woefully lack—­application and conscience.”

“Perhaps she expects to teach,” returned Miss Parks, in her most courteous tone, as she turned the diamond upon her engagement finger.

“I hope she may teach—­this class,” retorted the master with equal courtesy.

Miss Parks smiled at Marjorie with her lovely eyes and acknowledged the point of the master’s remark with a slight inclination of her pretty head.

At the noon intermission a knot of the girls gathered around Marjorie’s chair; Emma Downs took the volume of “Bridgewater Treatises” out of her hand and marched across the room to the book case with it, the others clapped their hands and shouted.

“Now we’ll make her talk,” said Ella Truman.  “She is a queen in the midst of her court.”

“She isn’t tall enough,” declared Maria Denyse.

“Or stately enough,” added Pauline Hayes.

“Or self-possessed enough,” supplemented Lizzie Harrowgate.

“Or imperious enough,” said Clarissa Parks.

“She would always be abdicating in favor of some one who had an equal right to it,” laughed Pauline Hayes.

“Oh, Miss West, who was that lovely little creature with you in Sunday school Sunday?” asked Miss Denyse.  “She carries herself like a little princess.”

“She is just the one not to do it,” replied Miss Parks.

“What do you mean?” inquired Miss Harrowgate before Marjorie could speak.

“I mean,” she began, laying a bunch of white grapes in Marjorie’s fingers, “that her name is Holmes.”