"Like she always does," answered Mrs. Comstock curtly.
"I do hope her dresses are as pretty as the rest," said Margaret. "None of them will have prettier faces or nicer ways."
"They just don't have one half as pretty faces or one tenth as nice ways," boasted Billy, who was wrestling with fractions.
"Oh, you two make me tired!" scoffed Mrs. Comstock.
Wesley was waiting before the big church to take care of the team. As they stood watching the people enter the building, Mrs. Comstock felt herself growing ill, without knowing why. When they went inside among the lights, saw the flower-decked stage, and the masses of finely dressed people, she grew no better. She could hear Margaret and Billy softly commenting on what was being done.
"That first chair in the very front row is Elnora's," exulted Billy, "'cos she's got the highest grades, and so she gets to lead the procession to the platform."
"The first chair!" "Lead the procession!" Mrs. Comstock was dumfounded. The notes of the pipe organ began to fill the building in a slow rolling march. Would Elnora lead the procession in a gingham dress? Or would she be absent and her chair vacant on this great occasion? For now Mrs. Comstock could see that it was a great occasion. Every one would remember how Elnora had played a few nights before, and they would miss her and pity her. Pity? Because she had no one to
