Then the talk drifted to other matters, but Morris went to bed his heart filled with envy for the man who should take the flag to Mr. Lincoln. He knew that there wasn't the slightest chance for him to go to Springfield; his mother would remember all the dreadful stories she had ever heard of little boys being kidnapped while taking railway journeys alone; his father would tell him he couldn't spare the money for such a trip and that Morris couldn't afford to lose a day of school. Then, if he couldn't go to Springfield, it would be almost as good to send a present to Mr. Lincoln such as Mr. Kohn planned to do--but what could a little boy with a limited amount of pocket money send a man just elected to be president of the United States. He even crept out of bed very stealthily, not caring to arouse his ever-wakeful mother in the next room--to look over the treasures in the top drawer of his little dresser; the finest stamp collection ever possessed by any boy who attended his school, he thought proudly; a box of shells and lucky stones gathered on the lake shore last vacation; a prize book given him at school for perfect attendance, which Morris never cared to read, as it seemed to be the tale of a very good little boy who always stood at the head of his class and never disobeyed his parents; a set of fishing tackle discarded by his older brother, Harry. Treasures, though they were, Morris would have sent any or all of them with Mr. Kohn's flag as a going-away gift to the new president, already enshrined in so many hearts; but, boy though he was, he knew that a grown up man would not care for his poor presents. He even lifted his little blue bank and rattled it softly; but he did not take the trouble to pry it open, for he knew that for all its jingling, the pennies inside would not amount up to more than a dollar. Disappointed, yet determined not to let Mr. Kohn outdo him in the matter, Morris crept back to bed. The next morning he found his plans for Mr. Lincoln's present far more fascinating than his lessons as he sat in the basement schoolroom provided for the children of the congregation. One of the school's non-Jewish teachers had heard his history and geography. In a little while Rabbi Adler would take the classes in Hebrew and German. Morris knew he ought to prepare the lessons so shamefully neglected the night before, but he found it difficult to put his mind on his task.