“Valedictorian!  My little Lydia!  Scholarship and popular vote!  I wish your mother was here.  What does Lizzie say?”

Lydia giggled.  “I left Lizzie carrying on an imaginary conversation with Elviry Marshall, after she’d cried over me for half an hour.  And, Daddy, nobody was surprised but me!  Not the teachers or anybody!”

“Thank God, there’s some democracy left in the world,” said Amos.  “Evidently those youngsters voted without prejudice.  They can give us elders a few points.  Lord, Lydia! and folks have been looking down on us because we were poor and I’m little better than a day laborer.  I’ll write to Levine tonight.  He’ll have to be here for the exercises.”

“And Kent is salutatorian.  He won by just two votes.  I’ve got to begin to plan about my dress.”

“Now, I’m going to buy that dress, Lydia, if I have to borrow money.  You aren’t going to begin any talk about earning it.”

“Oh, all right,” said Lydia, hastily.  “You won’t have to borrow.  White goods is always cheap and I’ll get it right away so I can put lots of hard work on it.”

“What’s your speech going to be about?” asked Amos, as they turned in the gate.

“I haven’t had time to think about that.  I’ll plan it all out while I’m sewing.  I must make a V neck so I can wear the dress without the collar to the Senior Ball.”

Lizzie was waiting supper for them and poured the tea into the sugar bowl as she described to Amos the agonies of mind Elviry Marshall would endure on hearing the news.  Ma Norton came over during the evening to exchange a setting of eggs but wouldn’t sit down after Amos had forestalled Lizzie in telling of Lydia’s honor.  She said she couldn’t wait to get home to tell Pa and Billy.

Billy did not congratulate Lydia.  He passed her just as he had during all the months, with a curt little “Hello.”  To tell the truth Lydia was heartily ashamed of herself for her shabby reception of Billy’s plea.  Not that she had softened toward him!  But she knew she had been unkind and she missed the desultory companionship she had had with Billy.

The preparation of the dress went on amazingly well.  The speech making was less simple.  As was customary, Lydia chose the class motto for her subject and sweated inordinately to find something to say.  She complained bitterly to Miss Towne and Amos because during the four years at High School nothing at all was taught about love of country, or patriotism, or anything that would make the motto suggestive.

“How about your one term of Civil Government?” asked Miss Towne.

“Oh, I was a freshman then and I’ve forgotten it all,—­except the preamble to the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence.”

Lydia stopped thoughtfully.

Amos answered her plaint indignantly.  “Well, for heaven’s sake!  And you a descendant of the Puritans!  Lord, what’s become of the old stock!  No, I won’t help you at all.  Think it out for yourself.”