_Miss Steele_. You did not divide the syllables correctly. Try again.
_Mary Ann_. Yes'm. Re-preh-ens-ib-le.
_Miss Steele_. I cannot make it out yet.
_Mary Ann_. It's what you said the custom of sending valentines was.
[Illustration]
_Miss Steele_. Oh! reprehensible. And so it is. That means blameworthy,
pernicious. A very pernicious custom--most reprehensible.
_Mary Ann_. Thanks awfully. (_Murmurs._) So glad to know.
_Enter_ Georgiana _with a red shawl._
_Georgiana_. Ith thith what you wanted, Mith Thteele?
_Miss Steele_. No, dear. I said a white shawl. You don't call that
white--do you? As usual, you were inattentive. Now listen. Take this
back and lay it on my bed, and in the upper drawer, left-hand corner,
there is my white shawl wrapped in a towel. Bring it to me. Now mind,
the _white_ shawl.
[_Exit Georgiana._]
_Amanda_ (_whispers_). She didn't say whether bureau or wash-stand. It
isn't Georgie alone who is stupid.
_Miss Steele_. Miss Stuart, you are whispering. Tell me what you said.
_Amanda_. I said that child is too stupid for anything.
_Miss Steele_. She ought not to be stupid. She is very careless, owing,
I suppose, to her bringing up. She has always been waited on too much.
_Alicia_. Does that make people careless?
_Miss Steele_. It's apt to do so.
_Gertrude_. Miss Steele, why do folks call it Saint Valentine's day?
_Miss Steele_. Do not say folks, Gertrude. It is inelegant. There was a
saint named Valentine once, I suppose.
_Ada_. Did you ever get a valentine, Miss Steele?
_Miss Steele_. I? Oh no--that is, not lately. I suppose when I was young
and foolish I did such things.
_Mary Ann_ (_with mock reverence and admiration_). I'm sure, ma'am, now,
you were never young and foolish.
_Enter_ Georgiana _with a blue shawl._
_Miss Steele_ (_wrathfully_). Did I ever see such idiotic behavior, such
extraordinary conduct? Did I say one thing about a blue shawl? Wasn't it
a white shawl I sent you for? Explain, miss.
_Georgiana_. Thith ith what wath in the left-hand corner of the upper
drawer of the wath-thand.
_Miss Steele_. Wash-stand? I said bureau.
_Georgiana_. I didn't hear you thay bureau.
_Miss Steele_. Don't add lying to your stupidity. Of course I said
bureau! The thought of wash-stand didn't enter my mind.
_Georgiana_ (_beginning to cry_). I don't think you thaid bureau.
_Laura_. Please let me get the shawl for you, Miss Steele. I don't
believe Georgie can find it now, she is so flustered.
_Miss Steele_. When I want any of your interference, Miss Thurston, I
will ask for it. Georgiana Thompson, go back to my room, and don't bring
me a pink, or gray, or black shawl, but a white one which is in the
left-hand corner of the upper drawer in my bureau. And if you don't want
to spend to-morrow in your room, with bread and tea for your dinner, you
would better bring me the right thing this time. Do you hear? (_Exit_
Georgiana.) She must enjoy running up two flights of stairs. I declare
it's most annoying.
_Alicia_. Perhaps, Miss Steele, Georgiana is color-blind.
_Miss Steele_. Possibly. I had not thought of that.
_Amanda_. Really, Miss Steele, you didn't tell Georgie that the shawl
was in the _bureau_ drawer. Aren't you afraid she'll paw over your
things?
_Gertrude_. And make a mess generally? You really ought to let one of us
go with Georgie.
_Mary Ann_ (_jumping up_). Oh, do let me go!
_Miss Steele_. Well, go. (_Exit_ Mary Ann.) I feel warmer than I did. I
dare say by the time the shawl comes I will not need it. What a
vexatious fuss about nothing!
_Amanda_. Mental excitement makes anybody warm. Shall I go and tell the
girls not to bring the shawl?
_Miss Steele_. Sit still where you are.
[_A short, silent pause._]
_Enter_ Mary Ann _and_ Georgie, _triumphantly displaying a white shawl._
_Mary Ann_. There, ma'am. We had to turn over everything in your
drawers.
_Miss Steele_. How very thoughtless of you! I must go and see whether
you have done any harm.
[_She rises in dismay, drops stockings and balls of yarn, and leaves the
room._ Mary Ann _screams with laughter, and drops on the floor._]
_Mary Ann_. Oh, me darlints! me childer! It makes me that wake. But the
fun! We tossed her drawers all to pieces. There isn't one handkercher
lift upon anither. And the gloves and fans and letthers is scathered
about.
_Laura_. Oh, girls, what a pity! How could you do that?
_Georgiana_. Why, the thawl wathn't in the upper drawer at all. It wath
in the lower; and Mollie jutht puthed her handth under everything, and
thcattered them tho.
[Illustration]
_Mary Ann_. I did, I did. Och, could I but see her now! the ragin' and
tearin' av her, she's as mad as a ducked sitting hin. It's better than
medicine, me darlints. (_She sits in_ Miss Steele's _chair, picks up the
stockings and yarn, puts the white shawl over her shoulders, and tries
to look solemn and prim. The other girls gather around,_ Mary Ann
_mimicking_ Miss Steele's _voice._) Georgiana, it is quite chilly here.
Go, my dear, up two flights of stairs three times to my room, and bring
me not a gray, nor a pink, but a white shawl, which is not at all where
I tell you it is. And, dear, don't be color-blind just because you're a
Southerner, nor careless because your ancestors kept slaves.
_Alicia_. Sent Georgie on a fool's errand three times, did she? I hate
her. Horrid old thing!
_Gertrude_. Can't we get even with her?
_Laura_. I think Mollie did get even with her.
_Ada_. Do let's have our revenge.
_Amanda_.
It would make us very happy to be revenged upon her;
She's a cross and hateful teacher, and this is why we feel
That without the very tiniest and littlest dishonor
We would like to bother somehow Miss Araminta Steele.
_Gertrude_. Let's send her a comic valentine.
_All_ (_clapping hands_). Just the thing!
_Laura_. I'm afraid that would not be respectful.
_Mollie_. Whist, darlint, honey! It's the roight thing to do.
_Alicia_. All in favor of sending a comic valentine to Miss Steele say
aye.
_All, except Laura_. Aye!
_Gertrude_. Come on, Laura. Don't be too pious. There's no harm done,
only fun.
_Laura_ (_reluctantly_). Well, if you insist, girls, I won't stand out.
_Enter_ Mrs. St. Valentine, _a little old lady in a gray gown, mob-cap,
and kerchief._
_Mrs. St. V_. Good-day, young ladies.
_All_. Good-day, madam.
_Mrs. St. V._ (_seats herself_). Would you like to buy any valentines
to-day? I have choice ones to sell, at low prices.
[_All gather around her and take up the valentines._]
_Ada_. Yes, these are lovely. Have you any comic valentines?
_Mrs. St. V_. Yes, a few. But I never show them to young ladies. They
are not suitable.
_Ada_. But we want one; real horrid and funny.
_Mrs. St. V_. How singular! Will one of these do? But I do not like to
sell you such a thing.
_Amanda_. Here's a good one, girls. (_Reads._)
Once you may have been a beauty, but your charms are faded now,
There are puckers round your eyes, dear, and wrinkles on your brow;
Once you may have been seraphic, you are not angelic now.
_Mary Ann_. Oh, that's too good by far! Now how is this? (_Reads._)
You ugly, horrid, spiteful creature,
How distressing every feature!
Vinegar is sweet beside you,
And we cannot but deride you,
_Gertrude_. The picture is consistent--old woman, big nose, goggle eyes,
hair fuzzy, cross as two sticks.
_Alicia_. That will do very well.
_Laura_. It's not very refined.
_Mrs. St. V_. That's what I am thinking.
_Mary Ann._ We're not hunting for refinement. What's the price of that,
ma'am?
_Mrs. St. V_. It's cheap enough--ten cents. But look at some of these
pretty ones.
_Mary Ann_. Another time, if it's all the same to you. Girls, here's the
money. I will pay it, and you all owe me one and three-sevenths cents.
How's that for algebra?
_Mrs. St. V_. What are you going to do with this?
_Amanda_. Send it to one of our teachers, whom we just hate for being a
spiteful old thing.
_Laura_. I would rather not do it.
_Gertrude_. Oh yes, you're in it. Now, girls, sign your names, while I
address the envelope. Disguise your hand-writing, and make up the names.
Here's mine--Patsy Tuckerty.
_Georgiana_. Mine ith Tiny Tanthy. [_Writes._]
_Amanda_. Mine, Formosa Fiddlesticks.
_Ada_. Mine, Virginny Canary.
_Mary Ann_. And me own is Bridget Mahoney.
_Georgiana_. Oh, Mollie, the'll thuthpect!
_Mary Ann_. She can't prove anything.
_Alicia_. My name is Patessa Maressa. Now, Laura, you may have a pretty
name.
_Laura_. Well, here's mine--Lily Myette.
_Mary Ann_. There, I call that a triumph. I hope it will knock her down
flat. (_Reads the verse again._) Elegant!
_Mrs. St. V_. Young ladies, I hope you won't get into trouble. But
surely it is not kind treatment of a teacher to send her this ugly
thing. Now here are such lovely--(_Bell rings. Girls scamper to the door
and exeunt._ Mary Ann _courtesies and kisses her hand to_ Mrs. St.
Valentine.) Well, I do declare! What a set of wild girls! I don't think
they mean harm, but-- Why, they have left their comic valentine here.
Forgotten it, I suppose. Now let me see. I might confiscate it; but I
will call my nephew. His wits are bright. Perhaps he can get these
naughty children out of their scrape.
Come hither, Cupid darling,
As fast as you can fly;
Bring all your sharpest arrows,
And your merry magic try.
_Enter_ Cupid, _bowing low and kissing_ Mrs. St. Valentine's _hand._
_Cupid_.
What will my gracious aunt?
Command me as you please;
I'll serve you on my fleetest wings
Or on my bended knees.
_Mrs. St. V_. Cupid, here is a curious case. I came to the school with a
bag full of my choicest valentines, hoping to start up a brisk trade
with these young ladies. You know times are hard, and I really need the
money. Very well. They would not look at these gems, these flowers and
Cupids, but must pick out the ugliest one I have, and sign false names,
and address it to one of their teachers.
_Cupid_. Which one? Oh, Miss Steele! Yes, she's pretty dreadful. Heart
like flint. My arrows make no impression.
_Mrs. St. V_. But they ought not to send her this.
_Cupid_. I'm not so sure. The objection, from our point of view, is that
these comic valentines are made by a rival firm, and we should find it
for our interest to discourage their sale.
_Mrs. St. V_. True; and I would not keep them in stock, but that boys
will have them and nothing else.
_Cupid_. You have to keep a few in stock, of course.
_Mrs. St. V_. Come, my child. Suggest some way out of this difficulty.
The girls must not be permitted to compromise themselves.
_Cupid_. I have it. Pick out seven of your pretty ones, a valentine for
each girl, and I will substitute them for this hideous thing.
_Mrs. St. V_. Oh, Cupid, you are so bright! Here's one.
_Cupid_.
When birds come back to bower and tree,
Pray, ladye fair, take thought of me;
No bird has note so sweet and true,
As all my loving thoughts of you.
That will do for Gertrude Campbell. [_Signs her name._]
_Mrs. St. V_. And this. (_Reads._)
I would tell you how much I love you,
But I don't know where to begin,
So open your door, sweet maiden,
And let your true love in.
_Cupid_. Let that be Amanda Stuart. [_Writes._]
_Mrs. St. V_.
I love my love with an A, because she's so attractive;
I love my love with an S, because she is so strong.
I send her a host of good wishes;
They are all in my little song.
_Cupid_. That shall he Alicia Perry's. (_Writes._) It doesn't rhyme,
though.
_Mrs. St. V_. Read this, my boy.
_Cupid_ (_reads_).
Oh! will you be my valentine? I'll fly at your behest;
And everything I'll proffer you, of first and very best.
Delightful. Laura Thurston. [_Writes._]
_Mrs. St. V_. Here's one with flowers. Take that for the little one.
_Cupid_ (_reads_).
Roses for you, gentle friend,
Lilies, too, and mignonette,
Daisies, and forget-me-nots
From your loving little pet.
Good, Georgiana Thompson. [_Writes._]
_Mrs. St. V_. Here's a pretty one.
_Cupid_ (_reads_).
I wish you joy, I wish you grace,
I wish you many a happy time;
May smiles light up your cheery face
Soon as you read my merry rhyme.
Ada McClure. [_Writes._]
_Mrs. St. V_. And one, the sweetest of all, for that mischief-loving
girl with the Irish name.
_Cupid_ (_reads_).
Thrue for yez, lady, here I be;
Belike ye'd hardly know 'tis me;
But I'll be good, and plaze attind
The valentine of this young frind.
Good! Mary Ann Murphy. (_Writes._) Now, auntie, fold my wings down and
make a mail-carrier of me. I will deliver these missives myself. And
this comic thing we will tear up and utterly destroy. Keep up your
courage, auntie. I hear that times are better, and there's to be a big
sale of valentines this year. [_Exeunt_ Mrs. St. V. _and_ Cupid, L.]
_Enter_, R., Laura.
_Laura_. I am going to destroy that hideous valentine, and not let Miss
Steele see it. We might be expelled, and, anyway, such things do no
good. Why, where is it? Gone! Oh dear! Can any of the teachers have seen
it? What if Miss Steele-- [_Rushes frightened from the room_, L.]
_Enter_, R., Miss Steele.
_Miss Steele_ (_face red, hair dishevelled_). I have been all this time
putting my room to rights. That wicked girl had literally emptied my
drawers and scattered everything around the room. She is impertinent and
saucy to the last degree. I can't seem to do anything with her and her
set, and yet they are popular with the other teachers. But they treat me
shamefully. Mollie seems to be the ring-leader, and she must on this
occasion be severely punished. To-morrow is a half-holiday. I shall
request Mrs. Eaton to keep her in her room. In fact, I think all of them
ought to receive punishment.
_Enter_ Cupid, _as mail-carrier._
_Cupid_. Good-day, ma'am.
_Miss Steele_. This seems to be a new mail-carrier. Aren't you rather
young for this business?
_Cupid_. I always deliver the valentines. Here are a lot for you.
_Miss Steele_. For me? You are mistaken. Who would send me a valentine?
_Cupid_. And why should not you receive a valentine? They are messages
of love.
_Miss Steele_. They are silly, stupid things.
_Cupid_. They are messages of love, I say. Is love stupid and silly?
_Miss Steele_. What a funny boy this is! What do you know about love?
_Cupid_. A great deal. It has been my business for centuries to make
people love. Here are seven fine valentines for Miss Steele. That's your
name?
_Miss Steele_. Yes, but it is twenty-five years since I had a valentine.
(_Muses._) Robert, my friend, sent me one. I have it somewhere. But that
seems ages ago. I never acknowledged it, and he misunderstood my
silence. He went away, and my heart has been closed to love since. Boy,
let me see these valentines. Why, they are from my seven naughty
girls--Alicia, Ada, Georgie, and even Mollie! What exquisite designs!
These things grow more beautiful every year. And the sentiments are
lovely.
_Cupid_. These valentines were selected on account of their sentiments.
The girls were talking about revenge.
_Miss Steele_. They have indeed taken a most loving revenge. How kind of
them! I have misunderstood them.
_Enter the seven girls._
_Laura_. And it was not on the table. I looked, but it was quite gone.
_Mollie_. Like as not she has got it, and we're in for it. Oh, here she
is! Come on, girls. Face the music. Live or die! Survive or perish!
_Georgiana_. I'm tho thcared!
_Miss Steele_. My darling girls! Thank you for your sweet thoughts of
me. Your pretty love-missives--
_Gertrude_. Gracious, but she can be sarcastic!
_Miss Steele_. --have won my heart. It is so long since I have had a
real valentine I am very much touched. Laura, Gerty, thanks. Georgie,
poor little dear, I was hard on you to-day. Alicia, Ada, Amanda, and you
mischievous Mollie, let us all be friends.
[Cupid, _on one side, is aiming arrows at_ Miss Steele.]
_Mollie_ (_aside_). Girls, I shall faint. Is it a cat playing with a
mouse?
_Laura_. We hope, Miss Steele, you won't mind our little joke. We did
not mean to offend you.
_Miss Steele_. How could I be offended? (_Reads one of the valentines._)
Isn't that beautiful? And these pictures show such good taste. They are
really gems of art.
_Ada_. Are we dreaming?
[Cupid, _from the rear, makes frantic gestures to the girls, with
finger on his mouth and shakes of his head._]
_Alicia_. But, Miss Steele--
_Miss Steele_. Girls, will you take tea with me to-morrow in my little
parlor? I will give a valentine tea, with ices in heart-shapes, and
everything that girls like. Perhaps I will tell you a story out of my
life that may make you think kindly of a lonely old maid. Will you all
come?
_All_. Yes, Miss Steele, thank you.
_Cupid_. I can bring you some valentines for your tea, if you like.
_Miss Steele_. Well, do. Select pretty ones, regardless of cost, and
bring them to me. [_Exit._]
_Cupid_. You see, that's just in my line.
_Mollie_. Somebody fan me! Salts, camphor, quick! Invited to tea by Miss
Steele!
_Cupid_. Don't you think my plan worked famously.
_Laura_. How did you do it?
_Cupid_. Well, my aunt--she's the lady that was selling valentines--was
awfully worried because you girls were going to send a hideous old comic
to your teacher, and I suggested that we substitute _our_ kind--the love
valentines. So we just tore up yours, and I addressed one of my
prettiest from each of you to Miss Steele. Guess you aren't sorry?
Besides, I've filled her heart, now that it has softened, with my
arrows, and if you do the right thing by her she'll behave well the rest
of the year. You see.
_Laura_. You blessed boy! I would like to hug and kiss you.
_Cupid_. I'll shoot you if you do.
_Amanda_. I'm so relieved.
_Georgiana_. Tho am I.
_Mollie_. That funny boy has been shooting at us too. My own heart feels
as if it had been hit, and I guess--don't you, girls?--that we'll never
send any more comic valentines. We'll stick to Cupid's own, the missives
of love.
CURTAIN.
AN IRISHMAN'S PATIENCE.
In a neat little white painted house up in Maine, a baby's gold ring
hangs upon the wall tied with a bit of ribbon. The owner, an Irishman, a
humorous scion of his race, when interrogated about it, told the
following story:
While fishing one day in an adjacent lake, he accidentally dropped the
ring out of his pocket, and slipping off the edge of the boat, it sank
down through the clear water. As he watched it disappearing, a large
fish darted through the water, and opening his month gulped it down. The
Irishman sadly lamented his loss of the ring as it belonged to his
little baby. He resolved to fish that lake until he found the rascally
thief, and day after day he hauled in the shiny, struggling members of
the finny tribe, and cut them open in search of his ring. Weeks went by,
and grew into months, until the cold weather arrived, but with a
fisherman's patience he continued in his task even to cutting holes in
the ice to fish through. One day after a severe and long protracted
struggle, he hauled in a fine fish, and some intuitive instinct told him
he had at last caught the thief, which, on cutting him open, proved to
be the case.
[Illustration: FROM CHUM TO CHUM]
BY GASTON V. DRAKE.
II.--FROM JACK TO BOB.
BOSTON, _June_ --, 18--.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
Dear Bob,--Got your letter last night. Wish I was going to Hoboken
with you, but most of all I wish you were going to be at the
Mountain House. I got a letter from our old friend Sandboys the
bell-boy, last month, and judging from what he says in it there's
going to be lots of fun up there this summer with the bears. He
says there never was such a lot of bears anywhere before. I hardly
know whether to believe what he says or not, but there's one
parrygraph in his letter that is very interesting. This is it. I've
copied it off "verby tim," as Dad calls it. He says, "We don't know
whether we can get the hotel opened this season or not on account
of them bears. About two months ago the Colonel sent over for me
and asked me if I wouldn't go up to the Notch with him and help
unlock the doors and start things along and I said yes I would. You
know in a big hotel like that with three hundred and forty rooms
it's pretty hard work getting it ready for the summer season, and
you have to begin very early to put things to rights, so along
about April the Colonel generally sends for me and we go up there
to see how things are going. So as I say I said yes I would and I
got ready to go, but the day before the one we were to go on the
Colonel sent me a telegraph message saying that he couldn't get
away and asking would I mind going up alone. So I said no I
wouldn't and went. It was about the twenty-first of April when I
got there and the snow was pretty deep, but it was crusted hard
enough on top for me to walk on, so I slid around to where the
front door was, but couldn't get in there because the snow came up
to the second story. Then I slid around to the back door and found
the snow there had drifted up as high as the third story, but there
was an open window that I could climb in through and through I
clumb, exclaiming as I did so against the carelessness of the
people that had left it open. Little did I dream how unjust I was,
but later on I found out. I went through the room out into the
hall, and thence down stairs to the office floor, where what did I
see sitting in the Colonel's big arm-chair back of the counter but
a huge black bear, his fore-paws folded over his chest and his head
thrown back, blinking his eyes at the ceiling! I was transfigured
with terror, being unarmed and little expecting to see a bear in
that place. I turned quickly about and started to sneak back up
stairs the way I had come when what should I see playing in the
hall in front of your old room, the door of which was open, but two
roly-poly cubs, having the finest time imaginable. As soon as they
saw me they gave a squeak and rushed in head over heels into the
room and would you believe it slammed the door after them! Well, I
didn't know what to make of it, and my first, thought was to get
away as fast as I could, but remembering that in my room on the top
floor under the cupola I had left a book I had given me by one of
last year's guests, I went up to get it, and really and truly,
Jack, there stretched at full length on my bed was another bear.
This time I was thoroughly scared out of my wits, and the first
thing I knew I had given a cry of fear and of course that attracted
the bear's attention. As soon as he caught sight of me he sprang up
off the bed and chased me down the stairs along the hall to the
East side, then down the next stairs along the lower hall to the
West side, and so we went lickety-split up and down those halls
like lightning. He could gain on me in the halls having twice as
many legs as I have, but I could gain on him on the stairs, by
sliding down the banisters, which was a trick he hadn't learned.
Finally we got to the ground-floor, and I dashed along through the
office, past the first bear who was still blinking at the ceiling
in the Colonel's chair behind the counter. The bear that was
chasing me was now gaining constantly. By the time we had got to
the last flight of stairs he had learned, by watching me go down,
how to slide on the banisters himself, so I couldn't gain an inch
there, and he roared like a thunder-storm all the time, which was
very destroying to my nerves. I tell you I thought my last hour had
come, but I didn't sit down to cry about it. I just kept on and as
luck would have it managed to jump into the elevator and slam the
iron-barred door in his face just as he was about to grab me."
[Illustration]
[Illustration]