Winning His Way. Charles Carleton Coffin

some way by which she could make it look better. Once she took the shears and was going to cut off the tail, but Paul stopped her. "I don't want it curtailed, mother."

      "It makes you look like a little old man, Paul; I wouldn't go."

      "If I had better clothes, I should wear them, mother; but as I haven't, I shall wear these. I hope to earn money enough some time to get a better coat; but grandpa wore this, and I am not ashamed to wear what he wore," he replied, more resolute than ever. Perhaps, if he could have seen how he looked, he would not have been quite so determined, for the sleeves hung like bags on his arms, and the tail almost touched the floor.

      Mr. Rhythm had just rapped the scholars to their seats when Paul entered. There was a tittering, a giggle, then a roar of laughter. Mr. Rhythm looked round to see what was the matter, and smiled. For a moment Paul's courage failed him. It was not so easy to be laughed at as he had imagined. He was all but ready to turn about and leave the room. "No I won't, I'll face it out," he said to himself, walking deliberately to a seat, and looking bravely round, as if asking, "What are you laughing at?"

      There was something in his manner which instantly won Mr. Rhythm's respect, and which made him ashamed of himself for having laughed. "Silence! No more laughing," he said; but, notwithstanding the command, there was a constant tittering among the girls. Mr. Rhythm began by saying, "We will sing Old Hundred. I want you all to sing, whether you can sing right or not." He snapped his tuning-fork, and began. The school followed, each one singing—putting in sharps, flats, naturals, notes, and rests, just as they pleased. "Very well. Good volume of sound. Only I don't think Old Hundred ever was sung so before, or ever will be again," said the master, smiling.

      Michael Murphy was confident that he sang gloriously, though he never varied his tone up or down. He was ciphering in fractions at school, and what most puzzled him were the figures set to the bass. He wondered if 6/4 was a vulgar fraction, and if so, he thought it would be better to express it as a mixed number, 1½.

      During the evening, Mr. Rhythm, noticing that Michael sang without any variation of tone, said, "Now, Master Murphy, please sing la with me";—and Michael sang bravely, not frightened in the least.

      "Very well. Now please sing it a little higher."

      "La," sang Michael on the same pitch, but louder.

      "Not louder, but higher."

      "La!" responded Michael, still louder, but with the pitch unchanged.

      There was tittering among the girls.

      "Not so, but thus,"—and Mr. Rhythm gave an example, first low, then high. "Now once more."

      "LA!" bellowed Michael on the same pitch.

      Daphne Dare giggled aloud, and the laughter, like a train of powder, ran through the girls' seats over to the boys' side of the house, where it exploded in a loud haw! haw! Michael laughed with the others, but he did not know what for.

      Recess came. "Halloo, Grandpa! How are you, Old Pensioner? Your coat puckers under the arms, and there is a wrinkle in the back," said Philip Funk to Paul. His sister Fanny pointed her finger at him; and Paul heard her whisper to one of the girls, "Did you ever see such a monkey?"

      It nettled him, and so, losing his temper, he said to Philip, "Mind your business."

      "Just hear Grandaddy Parker, the old gentleman in the bob-tailed coat," said Philip.

      "You are a puppy," said Paul. But he was vexed with himself for having said it. If he had held his tongue, and kept his temper, and braved the sneers of Philip in silence, he might have won a victory; for he remembered a Sunday-school lesson upon the text, "He that ruleth his spirit is greater than he that taketh a city." As it was, he had suffered a defeat, and went home that night disgusted with himself.

      Pleasant were those singing-school evenings. Under Mr. Rhythm's instructions the young people made rapid progress. Then what fine times they had at recess, eating nuts, apples, and confectionery, picking out the love-rhymes from the sugar-cockles!