On Friday afternoons the girls of the Oliphant school were required to read original papers which they had written through the week, and which were technically known as “Themes.”

These Themes were Patty’s special delight. Her more prosaic lessons she learned from a sense of duty, and also because of her ambition to achieve the prize which was to be given at Christmas to the pupil with the best general average of marks.

Patty knew she stood high on the list, but Clementine, Adelaide, Hilda, and even Lorraine were also far above most of the other pupils.

The rivalry was a good-natured and generous one. Elise stood no chance for the prize, as she had entered school a fortnight later than the others. Her sympathies were entirely with Patty, and she strongly hoped that she would win the prize.

The markings of the Themes counted for a great deal, and the uniform excellence of Patty’s essays kept her average up in spite of her occasional low marks in mathematics, a study which she detested.

It was no trouble for Patty to write imaginative compositions. Her fertile fancy and her sense of humour provided ample material, and her natural gift of expression made it easy for her to write excellent Themes.

One Wednesday afternoon in November she sat down to write her paper for Friday.

“Give me a subject, Grandma,” she said gaily; “I want to get my Theme done in a jiffy to-day.”

Grandma Elliott looked at the pretty girl who sat at her desk with her pen held above her paper. Patty’s sunshiny face, in its frame of curling gold hair, was an ideal vision of youth and happiness.

“Why don’t you write on the ‘Spirit of Happiness?’?” said Grandma, “and then you can put yourself right into your work.”

“I’ll do it!” cried Patty; “I am happy, and I might as well tell it to the world at large.”

She dashed into her subject, and scribbled rapidly for some time.

“There!” she said, as she finished the last page, “I do believe, Grandma, that’s the best Theme I’ve written; and if you want to read it, you may. I’m much obliged to you for suggesting the subject.”

Grandma read the merry little composition, and quite agreed that it was among the best of Patty’s efforts at literature.

“Now that’s off my mind, for this week,” she said; “I do like to get it done, and then I can frisk about with a clear conscience. Now I’m going to run up to Adelaide’s for a minute, and see what she’s doing.”

Patty ran upstairs to the next floor of The Wilberforce, and rang the bell of the Harts’ apartment.

She found Adelaide also busy at work on her Theme.

“Oh, then I won’t disturb you,” said Patty; “I’ll go away until you get the old thing done, and then you come down and see me.”

“I’ll never get it done,” said Adelaide, disconsolately; “I can’t dash things off in a minute like you do; I have to grub over them, and then they’re no good. I wish you’d stay and help me.”

“All right, I will. I won’t help you enough to make it wrong, you know; suppose I just give you a subject, and a sort of an outline of the points, and then you write it all yourself.”

“Do,” cried Adelaide, eagerly; “what a comfort you are, Patty!”

Easily Patty detailed the foundation of a theme, and then while Adelaide was writing, she left her to herself and went in search of the rest of the family. She made a new bonnet for Jeannette’s doll, and listened to Editha’s new song. Then she helped Mrs. Hart arrange some flowers which had just arrived, and by that time Adelaide’s work was finished, and the two girls went off by themselves for a cosey chat.

“What do you think I heard to-day?” began Adelaide; “Flossy Fisher told me this afternoon when we were in the coat-room, getting our wraps, and I couldn’t tell you on the way home from school because Lorraine was with us. But it’s the most surprising thing I ever heard.”

“Well, what is it? Don’t keep me in suspense any longer.”

“Why, it’s just this: Flossy Fisher overheard Miss Oliphant say——”

“Oh, if Flossy was eavesdropping I don’t want to hear what she heard.”

“No, she wasn’t eavesdropping; honest, she wasn’t, Patty. But she was just passing through the hall, and she couldn’t help hearing Miss Oliphant say it to Miss Fenton. Miss Oliphant had just come out of her private study, where she had been making up the averages. And she said to Miss Fenton that you and Lorraine were exactly even.”

“What? Lorraine!”

“Yes; I told you it was surprising. But you know Lorraine hasn’t missed a day, and she generally has her lessons perfect. She’s like me; her greatest trouble is with her Themes. But even they have been pretty good lately, and so, you see, her average has crawled up. So I wanted to tell you as soon as I could, because you must work harder and get ahead of Lorraine, somehow. Of course we all want you to have the prize, but unless you’re careful Lorraine will get it.”

“I would like to get the general prize,” said Patty, “but I’d like for Lorraine to get it, too. If we’re just even, perhaps Miss Oliphant will divide it between us.”

“She can’t; it’s always a book; a great big gilt-edged affair, of poems, or something like that.”

“It isn’t the book I care for, it’s the honor. Papa would be so pleased if I won the general prize, and so would Grandma, and so would all my friends—and so would I.”

“So would we all of us; and you must win it. You can do it easily enough, now that you know you have to spur up a little to get ahead of Lorraine. And of course it isn’t likely that you two will stay just even. If you don’t get ahead of Lorraine, she’ll probably get ahead of you. Only your marks happen to be even just now.”

“I hope they stay even till Christmas, for though I want the prize, I don’t want to take it away from Lorraine.”

“Don’t be silly; you’re not taking it away from her any more than you are from the rest of us.”

“I suppose not; but it seems so, when our marks are just even.”

After Patty went home she thought the matter over seriously. It seemed to her that she had so much happiness in her life, and Lorraine had so little, that Lorraine ought to have the prize for that reason. “If I miss a lesson or two,” thought Patty, “that will throw her marks ahead, for I’m sure she won’t miss any. But even then, I’m afraid I’ll get ahead of her on ............