We have borrowed her product to head this story.
Meanwhile, back in the house, her father might have been heard
commenting on the noble behaviour of his daughter.
"Didn't let out a single whimper--brave little thing! We must see to
it that she has a good time at home--poor young one! I think we'd
better get the car this summer, after all."
CHAPTER IX
DOBSON SAVES THE DAY
It was two years after the Spanish war; and she was seventeen years
old and about to graduate.
On the Senior class roster of the Cherryvale High School she was
catalogued as Melissa Merriam, well down--in scholarship's token--
toward the tail-end of twenty-odd other names. To the teachers the
list meant only the last young folks added to a backreaching line of
girls and boys who for years and years had been coming to
"Commencement" with "credits" few or many, large expectant eyes
fixed on the future, and highly uncertain habits of behaviour; but,
to the twenty-odd, such dead prosiness about themselves would have
been inconceivable even in teachers.
And Missy?
Well, there were prettier girls in the class, and smarter girls-and
boys, too; yet she was the one from all that twenty-odd who had been
chosen to deliver the Valedictory.
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