"Hello, Betsy, you're just in time. I've saved out a cupful of hot syrup for you, all ready to wax."
Betsy hardly heard this, although she had been wild about waxed sugar on snow ever since her very first taste of it. "Cousin Ann," she said unhappily, "the Superintendent visited our school this afternoon."
"Did he?" said Cousin Ann, dipping a thermometer into the boiling syrup.
"Yes, and we had examinations!" said Betsy.
"Did you?" said Cousin Ann, holding the thermometer up to the light and looking at it.
"And you know how perfectly awful examinations make you feel," said Betsy, very near to tears again.
"Why, no," said Cousin Ann, sorting over syrup tins. "They never made me feel awful. I thought they were sort of fun."
"Fun!" cried Betsy, indignantly, staring through the beginnings of her tears.
"Why, yes. Like taking a dare, don't you know. Somebody stumps you to jump off the
