"Very well, so be it." The Chairman opened the box at his side. "I wish that State Boards did not change, so that we might all come back here next year and make it easy for this young lady; but since we can't, we wish to apologize to her, and to give her a little present to remember us by." He lifted a great handful of roses from the box. "And now, good-by, and good luck." And he stood still with the bouquet in his hands, forgetting apparently the promised story of his boyhood.
"Well," he said, with a smile, his voice more Pennsylvania-German than ever, "where is this Sarah Wenner, about whom I have been talking?"
Ethel Davis's voice shook.
"Go and get your flowers, youngster."
"I can't."
"You must. Run along."
She rose to let Sarah pass, and then some one near by stood up to see, and in a moment the school was on its feet and some one was singing. It was the old tune which for many years had closed the session of the State Board, the long-metre doxology. They finished the first line as the Chairman put the flowers into Sarah's arms. Then, seeing what a little girl she was, he laid his hand on her shoulder and kept her beside him, while he startled her with his great bass.
And Sarah gave up trying to puzzle out how what the Chairman said could be true. She saw Ethel smiling at her and Gertrude waving her hand, and Professor Minturn and Miss Ellingwood and Mr. Sattarlee laughing together at the back of the room, and she grew a little less frightened and clasped her flowers a little more tightly in her arms. The troubles of the past year seemed to dwindle, the joys to grow, until it was all joy and happiness, and she lifted up her voice and sang out with all her heart.
Transcriber's Note:
Obvious punctuation errors repaired.