“Wait, I have not finished,” laughingly protested the lady as she held up her hand,—for some of the girls had started to clap. “I want you to know before your president rings it,—it is to be rung to call you together in the sacred cause of liberty,—that way up in the top has been inserted a very tiny chip from the real Liberty Bell,—the bell that was rung over a hundred years ago to announce that the thirteen colonies had become the United States of America. I hope, girls, that when you hear this bell ring you will feel the same inspiration to do your best as animated the patriots in the war of 1776.” As Mrs. Morrow paused, the long-delayed clapping burst forth with such vigor that she and Nathalie—she had drawn the girl to her and was pressing the bell into her hand—had to smile and bow again and again. But the clapping only halted for a space, for when Nathalie saw that quietness reigned, she rang the liberty bell so loudly and determinedly, while a mischievous twinkle glowed in her eyes, that it broke forth again. As soon as the demonstration was over and the bell-ringing had subsided, Mrs. Morrow’s voice was heard again: “Now, Liberty Girls, I am going to ask your president to take a vote to get your opinion as to _who you think_ told the best story about great women in your liberty chain. “Perhaps you do not know,” the gray-blue eyes deepened, “but I was in the dining-room, although not purposely an eavesdropper, and had the pleasure of hearing the stories told. I have formed an opinion as to the best story-teller, but would like to know if your opinion coincides with mine.” But alas, there were so many different opinions as to the best story, and as to who was the best narrator, that to even matters Mrs. Morrow had to take her big bouquet of flowers and divide it into three or four nosegays. But a smile of satisfaction gleamed in the eyes of many when Marie, the little Jewess, received a bouquet and a few words of commendation from the giver. The little captain’s delight was so genuine, and her eyes beamed so joyously, that every one rejoiced with her. After the flowers were distributed, and the girls had sung a few patriotic songs, they filed out into the sunshine, happily aglow with the joy of the meeting and the inspiration it had brought to them. Several weeks later we find Nathalie coming slowly down the garden-walk with its old-time hedge, from the big gray house. The tall pines—now good old friends—that bordered the path bowed their tops in a cheery good-morning, as she walked beneath their shade.