She was walking soberly through the hall at school one morning when she heard somebody call out, “Oh, Miss Gardiner, come here a minute.”  It was Professor Green, standing in the door of his class room.  “There is something I want to tell you about,” he said, smiling down at her when she came up to him.  “You like to study History pretty well, don’t you?” Migwan nodded.  Next to Latin, history was her favorite study.  “Well,” resumed Professor Green, “here is a chance for you to do something with it.  You remember that Professor Parsons who lectured to the school on various historical subjects last winter?  You know he is a perfect crank on having boys and girls learn history.  He has now offered a prize of $100 to the boy or girl in the graduating class of this High School who can pass the best examination in Ancient, Medieval and Modern History.  You have had all three of those subjects, have you not?”

“Yes,” said Migwan, eagerly.

“The examination is to take place the last week in April,” continued Professor Green. “‘A word to the wise is sufficient.’  You are one of the best students of history in the class.”

Migwan went away after thanking him for telling her about it, feeling as if she were treading on air.  There was no doubt in her mind about her ability to learn history, as there was about geometry.  She had an amazing memory for dates and events and in her imaginative mind the happenings of centuries ago took form and color and stood out as vividly as if she saw them passing by in review.  Her heart beat violently when she thought that she had as good a chance, if not better than any one else in the class, of winning that $100 prize.  This would pay her tuition in the local university for the first year.  She resolved to throw her fruitless writing to the winds and put all her strength into her history.  The world stretched out before her a blooming, sunny meadow, instead of a stagnant fen, and exultantly she sang to herself one of the pageant songs of the Camp Fire Girls: 

  “Darkness behind us,
  Peace around us,
  Joy before us,
  White Flame forever!”

That morning the announcement of the prize examination was made to the whole class, and Abraham Goldstein also resolved that he would win that $100.

The snow lasted over another day and the next night Sahwah and Dick Albright and a half dozen other girls and boys went coasting.  It was bright moonlight and the air was clear and crisp, just cold enough to keep the snow hard and not cold enough to chill them as they sat on the bob.  The place where they went coasting was down the long lake drive in the park, an unbroken stretch of over half a mile.  Halfway down the slope the land rose up in a “thank—­you—­marm,” and when the bob struck this it shot into the air and came down again in the path with a thrilling leap which never failed to make the girls shriek.  Migwan was there in the crowd, and Gladys, and one or two more of the Winnebagos.  Dick Albright was in his element as he steered the bob down the long white lane, for Sahwah sat right behind him, shouting merry nonsense into his ear.  “Now let me steer,” she commanded, when they had gone down a couple of times.