"Ginny Cox, you haven't any more right to that Award than I have! You _know_ you built the snowman and Jerry took the blame so's you could play basketball. _She's_ the winner!" Each turned, surprised, at Isobel's defence of Jerry's right, marveling at the earnestness in her face. "Oh--_don't_," implored Jerry. "I'm _glad_ Ginny won it." Ginny stamped her foot. "_I'm_ not--I wish I hadn't. I never dreamed I would--honest. What a mess! I wish I'd just turned and told them all about it, but I didn't have the nerve! I'm just yellow." That--from Ginny Cox, the invincible forward! Breathless, the girls paused where they were on the grassy slope near the entrance of Highacres. A great elm spread over them and through its shimmering green a sunbeam shot across Ginny Cox's face, adding to the fire of its sternness. "Girls----" she spread out her hands commandingly, "I don't know what _you_ think--but _I_ think Jerry Travis is the best ever at Lincoln! She's made me show up like a bad old copper penny 'longside of her. A year ago I could have taken this old Award without a flicker of my littlest eyelash, but just _knowing_ her makes it--impossible! Now--what shall we do?" Jerry's remonstrance--a little quivery, because she was deeply moved by Ginny's unexpected tribute--was drowned out in a general assent and a clamorous approval of Ginny's words. "I know----" declared Isobel, feeling that, because she was a Senior, she must straighten out this tangle. "Let's tell Uncle Johnny all about it." Uncle Johnny--to whom had been carried every hurt, every problem since baby days. The others agreed--"He's a trustee, anyway," Gyp explained--though just how much a trustee had to do with these complicated questions of school honor none of them knew. And, as though Uncle Johnny always sprang up from the earth at the very instant his girls needed him, he came up the winding drive in his red roadster. They hailed him. He brought the car to a quick stop. "Uncle Johnny, we want you to decide something for us! Please get out and come over here." He stared at the serious faces. What tragedy had shadowed the customary gladness of the last day of school? He let them lead him to the old elm. "If you'll please sit down and--and pretend you're _not_--our uncle but sort of a--a judge--and listen, we'll tell you." "Dear me," Uncle Johnny murmured weakly, sitting down on the slope. "This is bad for rheumatism and gray trousers but--I'll listen." Isobel began the story with the building of the snowman; Gyp took it up. Dramatically, with an eloquence reminiscent of that meeting of the Ravens when the ill-fated lot had fallen to Jerry, she explained how "for the honor of the school" Jerry had shouldered Ginny's punishment. Peggy Lee interrupted to say that she thought Miss Gray had made an awful fuss about nothing, but Ginny hushed her quickly. Then the story came to the winning of the Award.