"And now, in conclusion, as I turn this flag over into your custody, let me charge you to guard it with exceeding care. It should be treated with reverence because it symbolizes our common country. Whoever regards it with indifference has no patriotic blood in his veins. Whoever lays wanton hands on it is a traitor to it. And whoever insults or defames it in any way, deserves, and will receive, the open scorn and lasting contempt of all his countrymen. Ladies and gentlemen, I have done." The colonel resumed his seat amid a roar of applause, and when it had subsided Miss Grey arose to introduce the respondent. "This beautiful flag," she said, "will now be accepted, on behalf of the school, in an address by one of our pupils: Master Alexander Sands." Aleck arose and made his way to the platform. The Riverbeds applauded him vigorously, and the guests mildly, as he went. He started out bravely enough on his speech. "Colonel Butler, teachers and guests: It gives me pleasure, on behalf of the Chestnut Hill public school, to accept this beautiful flag--" He made a sweeping gesture toward the right-hand corner of the platform, as he had done at rehearsals, only to discover that the flag had, at the last moment, been shifted to the left-hand corner, and he had, perforce, to turn and repeat his gesture in that direction. There was nothing particularly disconcerting about this, but it broke the continuity of his effort, it interfered with his memory, he halted, colored, and cudgeled his brains to find what came next. Back, in the rear of the room, where the Hilltops were gathered, there was an audible snicker; but Aleck was too busy to hear it, and Miss Grey, prepared for just such an emergency as this, glanced at a manuscript she had in her hand, and prompted him: "So graciously given to us--" Aleck caught the words and went on: "--so graciously given to us by our honored townsman and patriotic citizen, Colonel Richard Butler." Another pause. Again Miss Grey came to the rescue. "No words of mine--" she said. "No words of mine," repeated Aleck. "Sure, they're no words of yours," said some one in a stage-whisper, far down in the audience. Suspicion pointed to Elmer Cuddeback, but he stood there against the wall, with such an innocent, sober look on his round face, that people thought they must be mistaken. The words had not failed to reach to the platform, however, and Miss Grey, more troubled than before, again had recourse to her manuscript for the benefit of Aleck, who was floundering more deeply than ever in the bogs of memory. "--can properly express--" "--can properly express--" Another pause. Again the voice back by the wall: "Express broke down; take local." The situation was growing desperate. Miss Grey was almost at her wit's end. Then a bright idea struck her. She thrust the manuscript into Aleck's hand. "Oh, Aleck," she exclaimed, "take it and read it!"