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 shining, steadily keeping time and leading the others, struck up, in a clear little voice, the chorus of "Tramp, Tramp, Tramp, the Boys are Marching."

In an instant the others had joined in, some of the voices chokey by sobs or smoke, but all with hearty good will.

The jostling and pushing ceased, and the long lines of children became as straight and even as ever they were at recess.

Out of the door they marched, and down the three flights of stairs, singing loudly and tramping lustily, and led by the little bright-eyed girl whose head was high and whose face fairly shone with strength and courage.

As the last of the children filed out of the room, the teacher turned. She could scarcely see Mabelle, because of the smoke.

"Come, dearie," she called.

Mabelle played the last of the strain and then came quickly across the room. The teacher took her hand and they hurried after the others. They could hear the cheers of