Poor little Comfort did not feel much sustained by the possession of her real gold ring. It was dreadful to stand out there facing the school, which seemed to be a perfect dazzle of blue and black eyes all fastened upon her in her little red gown and gingham tier, in her little stout shoes, which turned in for very meekness, with her little dangling hands, which could not wear the gold ring, and her little strained face and whispering lips, and little vain heart, which was being punished for its little vanity. They stood on the floor until recess. Comfort felt so weak and stiff that she could scarcely move when Miss Hanks said harshly, "Now you can go." She cast a piteous glance at Matilda, who immediately put her arms around her waist and pulled her along to the entry, where their hoods and cloaks hung. "Don't you cry," she whispered. "She's awful strict, but she won't hurt you a mite. She brought me a whole tumbler of currant jelly when I had the measles." "I sha'n't whisper again as long as I live," half sobbed Comfort, putting on her hood. "I sha'n't, either," said Matilda. "I never had to stand out on the floor before. I don't know what my mother will say when I tell her." The two little girls went out in the snowy yard, and there was Rosy, with Charlotte Hutchins and Sarah Allen, and she was showing them her ring. It was again too much for sensible little Matilda, weary from her long stand on the floor. "Rosy Stebbins, you are a great ninny, acting so stuck up over that old brass ring," said she. "Comfort Pease has a real solid gold one, and she don't even wear it." Rosy and Charlotte Hutchins and Sarah Allen all stared at Comfort. "Have you?" asked Charlotte Hutchins, in an awed tone. She was a doctor's daughter, and had many things that the other little girls had not; but even she had no gold ring--nothing but a chameleon. "Yes, I have," replied Comfort, blushing modestly. "Real gold?" asked Rosy, in a subdued voice. "Yes." Some other girls came up--some of the older ones, with their hair done up; and even some of the boys, towering lankily on the outskirts. Not one of these scholars in this country district school fifty years ago had ever owned a gold ring. All they had ever seen were their mothers' well-worn wedding-circlets. "Comfort Pease has got a real gold ring," went from one to the other. "Why don't she wear it, then?" demanded one of the big girls. She had very red cheeks, and her black hair was in two glossy braids, crossed and pinned at the back of her head, and surmounted by her mother's shell comb she had let her wear to school that day. She had come out to recess without her hood to show it. "She's waiting for her hand to grow to it," explained Matilda, to whom Comfort had shyly whispered the whole story. "Hold up your hand," ordered the big girl; and Comfort held up her little hand pink with the cold. "H'm! looks big enough," said the big girl, and she adjusted her shell comb.