And to her own surprise, she did feel less bitter about her meager, home-made clothing.  She had had a chance to improve it and had resisted the temptation.

She told Ma Norton of Amos’ plan, and her refusal.  Ma heard her through in silence.  They were sitting as usual in the kitchen of the Norton farmhouse.  Lydia ran over nearly every Saturday afternoon but she seldom saw Billy.  Amos had refused to allow Lydia to continue fudge selling and Ma supposed that that was why her son never spoke of Lydia or was about when she called.

“You did exactly right, Lydia,” was Ma’s verdict.  “And you mustn’t lay it all to clothes, though I’ve always maintained that party-going boys were just as silly about clothes as party-going girls.  You’re old for your age, Lydia.  It takes older men to understand you.  I suppose your class has begun to talk about graduation.  It’s March now.”

“Yes,” said Lydia.  “We’ve chosen the class motto and the class color.  I was chairman of the motto committee and we chose Ducit Amor Patriae—­and purple and white’s our color.”

“For the land’s sake,” murmured Ma.  “Why do you children always choose Latin or Greek mottoes?  Hardly anybody in the audience knows what they mean.  I never did get Billy’s through my head.”

Lydia laughed.  “We just do it to be smart!  But I chose this one.  It’s one John Levine gave me years ago.  I thought it was a good one for young Americans—­Love of Country leads them.”

“Indeed it is.  Especially with all the foreign children in the class.  I’ll have to tell Billy that.  He’s doing fine in his law but his father’s broken-hearted over his giving up farming.”

“I’ll bet he goes back to it.  He’s a born farmer,” said Lydia.

Late in March the valedictorian and salutatorian of the class were chosen.  The custom was for the teachers to select the ten names that had stood highest for scholarship during the entire four years and to submit these to the pupils of the class, who by popular vote elected from these the valedictorian and the salutatorian.

To her joy and surprise Lydia’s was one of the ten names.  So were Olga’s and Kent’s.

“Olga and Kent will get it,” Lydia told Amos and Lizzie.  “I’m going to vote for them myself.  All the boys are crazy about Olga and all the girls are crazy about Kent.”

The day on which the election took place was cold and rainy.  Amos plodding home for supper was astonished to see Lydia flying toward him through the mud a full quarter of a mile from home.

“Daddy, they elected me valedictorian!  They did!  They did!”

Amos dropped his dinner pail.  “You don’t mean it!  How did it happen!  I never thought of such a thing.”  He was as excited as Lydia.

She picked up his pail and clung to his arm as they started home.

“I don’t know how it happened.  They just all seemed to take it for granted.  No one was surprised but me.  Olga got four votes and Mamie Aldrich ten and I got sixty-six!  Daddy!  And Mamie wasn’t cross but Olga was.  Oh, isn’t it wonderful!”