every boy was in his seat the next morning at the opening of school. though the choice lay between two only, there was a general interest felt in the result of the competition. ben was the favorite, though sam had a few followers—generally sycophantic boys who had a respect for wealth, or had favors to ask of him.

"boys," said the principal, "i sat up till twelve o'clock last evening, examining your papers. i have not only ascertained who are entitled to the two prizes, but i have made a list of the ten highest scholars, with their percentages. i am glad to say that many of you have done well, and i regret that i have not more prizes to bestow. i will now announce the names of the prize boys."

"first prize—benjamin bradford." "second prize—sam archer."

the boys applauded noisily.

"bradford's percentage," continued the principal, "is ninety-nine and eight-tenths; archer's, ninety-seven and nine-tenths. both are very high and i heartily congratulate both young gentlemen upon their brilliant success. bradford, you may come up to the desk."

mr. taylor placed in his hands a neat edition of longfellow's poems.

"thank you, sir," said ben.

the boys again applauded.

"archer, you may come up," said the principal.

sam rose slowly, and with a discontented look shuffled up to the desk. an edition of tennyson's poems was handed to him. he received them without a word of thanks and hurried back to his seat.

there was no applause in his case.

this was the last day of school, and the session lasted but an hour and a half. at half-past ten the boys poured out of the schoolhouse with noisy demonstrations of joy.

"i congratulate you, old fellow," said james watson to ben. "you've done splendidly."

"thank you, james."

"so do i, and i," exclaimed one and another.

ben received all these congratulations modestly.

"go and congratulate sam, boys," he said.

"a good scholar, but a mean boy," said james. "however, here goes."

"i congratulate you on your prize, sam," he said offering his hand.

sam did not appear to see the hand.

"a second prize isn't worth having," he said discontentedly. "of course it was all i had a chance for. bradford is the teacher's favorite."

"do you mean to say ben don't deserve the first prize?"

"he was sure to get it, anyhow."

"that's mean in you to speak so, sam."

"it's what i think, at any rate."

"well, sam," said his father, as he entered his presence, "how is it?"

"just as i expected, father. old taylor gave the first prize to his favorite, ben bradford."

"after all the attention i have paid that man, it is positively outrageous to defraud you of your rights."

"you won't have his salary increased now, will you, father?"

"i'll do what i can to have the man discharged."

"there's a favor i want to ask of you, father."

"what is it, my son?"

"i hear that ben bradford is going to seek employment in the mill, now that school is over; i hope you'll refuse to take him on."

"i will. his prize will cost him dear."

"would you have given him employment if i had beaten him for the prize?"

"yes; business has revived, and we have decided to take on some extra hands, giving preference to those who have formerly been in our employ."

"then i will be revenged, at any rate," said sam.