The chattering ceased short. No one had
thought of tickets, nor even of money. The girls of the party looked
appalled--in Cherryvale the girls never dreamed of carrying money to
school; then furtively they glanced at the boys. Just as furtively
the boys were exploring into pockets, but though they brought forth
a plentiful salvage of the anomalous treasure usually to be found in
school-boys' pockets, the display of "change" was pathetic. Raymond
had a quarter, and that was more than anyone else turned out.
The conductor impatiently repeated:
"Tickets, please!"
Then Missy, feeling that financial responsibility must be recognized
in a class president, began to put her case with a formal dignity
that impressed every one but the conductor.
"We're the Junior class of the Cherryvale High School--we wish to go
to Osawatomie. Couldn't we--maybe--?"
Formal dignity broke down, her voice stuck in her throat, but her
eyes ought to have been enough. They were big and shining eyes, and
when she made them appealing they had been known to work wonders
with father and mother and other grown-ups, even with the austere
Professor Sutton.
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