"But think of all the iron in your system," comforted Peggy Lee. "I hope Jerry wins the prize, but I'm afraid it is going to Ginny Cox. She was _ninety-nine_ in Cicero. I wish _I_ had her brains----" "And her luck! Ginny says herself that it is luck--half the time." "Look how she got out of that scrape last winter----" spoke up another girl. The Ravens, who were in the group, suddenly looked at one another. "It won't be _fair_ if Ginny wins the Award," was the thought they flashed. The records for the contest were posted the day before Class-day--the last day of the examinations. A large group of boys and girls, eagerly awaiting them, pressed and elbowed about the bulletin board in the corridor while Barbara Lee nailed them to the wall. Gyp's inquisitive nose was fairly against the white sheet. "_Vir-gin-i-a Cox!_" she read shrilly. "Jerauld Travis _only two points behind_! And Dana King third----" An uncontrollable lump rose in Jerry's throat. She had hoped--she had dared think that she was going to win! She was glad of the babble under which she could cover her moment's confusion; she struggled bravely to keep the disappointment from her face as she turned with the others to congratulate Ginny. The plaudits of the boys and girls were warm and whole-hearted. If any surprise was felt that it had been Ginny Cox and not Jerry Travis who had won the Award it was carefully concealed. "We might have known no one could beat you, Coxie." "It was that ninety-nine in old Cicero." "Hurrah for Ginny!" Dana King trooped up a yell. "Lincoln--Cox! Lincoln--Cox!" Through it all Ginny Cox stood very still, a flush on her face but a distressed look in her eyes. The Ginny Cox whom her schoolmates had known for years would have accepted the hearty congratulations with a laughing, careless, why-are-you-surprised manner; the Ginny Cox whom Jerry had glimpsed that winter afternoon preceding the basketball game was honestly embarrassed by the turn of events. She had not dreamed she could win--it _had_ been that ninety-nine in Cicero. "Ginny Cox, you don't look a _bit_ glad," accused one clear-sighted schoolmate. Alas, Ginny was not brave enough to clean her troubled soul with confession then and there; she tried to silence the small voice of her conscience; she made a desperate effort to be her own old self, evoking the homage of her schoolmates as she had done time and time again. She answered, uneasily, with a smile that took in Jerry and Dana King: "I hate to beat anyone like Jerry and Dana. It's so close----" Whereupon the excited young people yelled again for "Travis" and again for "King." The crowd gradually dispersed; little groups, arm-in-arm, excitedly talking, passed out through the big door into the spring sunshine. A buoyance in the very air proclaimed that school days were over. In one of these groups were Ginny Cox, Gyp, Jerry, Pat Everett, Peggy Lee and Isobel. Among them had fallen a constraint. Isobel broke it.