Although Florence made trouble among the miners’ children occasionally, she was always forgiven this when she “made up,” a process accomplished by the aid of a winning manner and generous bribes of allday suckers and gum. The children followed her wishes slavishly, adored every silly thing she did, and regarded her childish naughtiness in school as the acme of brilliance. They tried to stand in her good graces by outdoing her in whatever she did; if she whispered, they talked in undertones, and if she threw paper wads, they threw bits of coal. Miss Moss had analyzed the situation by the end of the first week. She saw that Florence had exercised more influence than the teacher, through her ability to provide amusement for the pleasure-starved little people. Her entertainment usually took the form of covert ridicule directed toward the teacher, and she always organized and managed the playground games, in so far as there were any. Miss Moss saw that she must substitute her own wholesome leadership for the leadership of this spoiled child. She saw that she must introduce a wholesome democracy for the boss management of a skillful and unscrupulous little tyrant. She brought back with her from her first week-end at home, several pretty waists and frocks which she had not intended to wear to school; for she saw that one element in her leadership must be the satisfaction of the starved sense of beauty which lived in these miners’ children. She brought back also some dotted Swiss sash-curtains for the windows; but these she did not put up at once. She announced on Monday morning that she had a surprise, and that she intended to let three pupils know about it that afternoon after school. She was so very mysterious about her secret that the children spent the day in speculation about it. Florence found her efforts at entertainment, for once, quite ignored. Of course Florence expected to be one of the three who were to share the secret after school, but at four o’clock Miss Moss chose Edward Hare, a great, overgrown boy who should have been in the seventh grade, and Mollie Sluss, a thin, shy, little thing who always bent over a book that she could never master, and Dicey Savage, who was Florence’s most enthusiastic follower. Miss Moss did not intend that the charge should miss fire. Florence headed a crowd which gathered at the windows to peep in at the uncovering of the great secret, but Miss Moss merely directed the favored ones to put on their things and go to her boarding-house. Here each one was given a package to carry, and the quartet returned to the schoolhouse. The first package proved to be sash-curtains; the second contained the brass fixtures; but the third was put upon the desk, with the promise that is should be opened when the curtains were up.