“O, Miss Westfeldt,” began Lavia; “I wanted so bad to see if I could paint the shells. I just ate a little bit of lunch and hurried back quick before the children got here, and made this little painting of the shells. Then I started to put them back in the box carefully; and I heard somebody open the entry door as if they were coming in, and I jumped and dropped the shells, and when I picked them up they were all broken. I am awfully sorry, Miss Westfeldt. I’ll give you my painting,” and the lips quivered again. Miss Westfeldt looked at the painting. It confirmed Lavia’s story. The different colors were crude, but remarkably good for a thirteen-year-old girl. They indicated artistic promise. The teacher sat for a moment with an absorbed expression on her face, then said: “Lavia, you have grieved me very much today by breaking these shells; now, will you do something to make me happy again? I did not know this morning why you wanted to take the shells. If I place the box on your desk where you can study the color effects and try to paint them, will you promise me that you will try never again to meddle with things that you have no right to touch?” “O, yes, Miss Westfeldt, I will, indeed I will! And can I really have them on my desk?” “Yes, Lavia, and I will keep your painting as a pledge of your promise. If you will ask me, after your lessons are learned, I have some other beautiful things also, that you may paint. I am pleased that you told me all the truth.” Lavia kept her promise. The spirit of initiative in coöperation won. ILLUSTRATION 2 (SIXTH GRADE) [Sidenote: Dissecting Typewriter] Carl Lampey and George Coffman were two sixth grade boys who found an old typewriter in a small store-room opening off the principal’s office. They went to their teacher to ask her if they might have this old machine. “Whose is it?” she asked. “We don’t know. Mr. Shorey (the janitor) said he thought it used to belong to Mr. Taney. Mr. Taney’s been gone three years, and never has sent for it. We want to take it apart to see how it’s made.” “That’s a good idea,” Miss Moore replied. “But I can’t give you permission to do it until we find that Mr. Taney really doesn’t want it.” “But, Miss Moore, if he did want it, don’t you suppose he’d have sent for it by this time? It’s too old to be of any use, or he’d have sold it second-hand. And we want to see how a typewriter’s constructed. Please, Miss Moore.” “The fact remains that it is not our property, and we have no right to take it. I’ll tell you what to do, though. Write to Mr. Taney and ask him. If he says he’s done with it, take it with my blessing.” “But we don’t know Mr. Taney’s address.” “Then hunt it up; you can. I think he knew the Wallaces very well, and doubtless they have it.”