“I am glad to be able to tell you,” continued Mrs. Fleming, “that all the girls in the Lower School intend to compete, with two exceptions—one is dear little Elisabeth, who, of course, is far too young; the other is Hannah Joyce. I am very sorry indeed about Hannah, and—_surprised_.” “I’m not,” said Kitty. “You are not what?” “I mean I’m not surprised.” Mrs. Fleming gave the girl a glance of almost contempt; she knew that Kitty longed to say more, but was resolved on no account to listen to her. “It is not our affair,” she said, “why Hannah does not compete; she is a very nice, good girl, and I have no doubt has wise reasons. I should have liked her to have won the prize, for it would have helped her and her dear mother; but she may perhaps feel differently another year. Now then, to business. You have each of you a copy of the rules of competition?” “Yes,” said Anne. “Speak up, Anne Dodd; don’t mumble.” “Yes, Mrs. Fleming.” “You know how severe these rules are, with regard to conduct, past, present, and future?” Sophia clutched her chair very tightly. Kitty, who was sitting next to Sophia, gave her a nudge, and said at once in a very cheerful voice, “I don’t pretend for a minute to be perfect. Indeed, far from that, I’m afraid I’m rather a naughty little girl; I’ve such an eye for mischief; but at least I’m honest and aboveboard, and those are the main things, aren’t they, Mrs. Fleming?” “They are the indispensable things, Katherine.” “And,” continued Kitty, “I mean to have a tremendous try for the future. I can’t tell you how hard I shall work to overcome my faults—not to mimic, you know, or anything naughty of that sort, and to be very kind and generous to others. Don’t you think that’s what I ought to aim at most of all, Mrs. Fleming?”