"Young ladies, I would like your attention a few moments! Upon examination, we find two of you so nearly equal that it is no easy matter to decide which deserves the prize. Miss Grace Clifford does well--exceedingly well. Her reading we consider superior to Miss Mahla Linck's, and their copy-books are equally neat. The truth is, we wish we had two prizes to give, instead of one. But as that cannot be, we have at last concluded to award this writing-desk to--Miss Mahla. Now we wish you all distinctly to understand why we do this," continued he, placing the points of his forefingers together. "It is because we think the effort she has made in arithmetic this term deserves a reward. She has always been a good student, but within the past few weeks her progress in arithmetic has been remarkable!" There was a general hum of satisfaction. Poor Mrs. Linck was fairly trembling for joy, and Mahla looked as if a star had dropped from the sky at her feet. As for Grace, her heart was so full that she could hardly force back the tears. They should not fall. Nobody would understand that she was crying for joy! When Mahla whispered to Grace that night, "O, Gracie, I wouldn't have had it but for you, dear!" it would be hard to tell which was the happier girl, grateful Mahla Linck, or noble Grace Clifford. Nobody but the Lincks, the Cliffords, and Cassy ever knew the whole story. If people had heard it, they would have foolishly praised Grace for her beautiful simplicity of conduct. Then Grace might possibly have grown proud and self-conscious, and that would have spoiled all. Mrs. Clifford begged leave to furnish the desk with the choicest writing materials. It gave her pleasure to do this, for nothing in her daughter's best deeds had ever touched her like her disinterested kindness to Mahla. Grace was overjoyed to find that her father did not seem disappointed or displeased with her. He was apparently as glad as any one of Mahla's good fortune. He kissed his daughter that night more tenderly than usual, and there was something in his approving smile which Grace valued, after all, more than a hundred prizes. CHAPTER XI. THE CHILDREN'S FAIR. It was now vacation. Mahla was too ill to go out; and, as for the other girls, they said they had the "sleeps;" and, instead of working for the soldiers, they preferred to lie under the trees and dream away the summer days. Not so Grace Clifford. She saw so much of the sick men, and heard so much of them from Lieutenant Lazelle, that she was resolved to give the R. S. S. a good shaking, and wake it up. Quiet was Grace's abomination. She made a speech before the society--an off-hand effort, which I will record, first remarking that Grace could have done vastly better if she had stopped two minutes to think. _The Queen's Address._