WHO GETS THE PRIZE?
Mahla Linck seemed to grow paler and thinner. Her mother, when kindly
advised to keep her at home, replied, "My Mahla loves her book; she
must in the school go." The poor woman could not and would not see the
danger. But though Mahla looked ill, she no longer seemed discouraged.
Since Grace had undertaken to help her, she was gaining confidence.
"Mother, I feel just this way," Mahla would say sometimes: "if I can't
get the prize, I hope Grace Clifford will, for she's the best girl in
school."
Mrs. Linck was glad that Mahla felt so kindly towards her rival, but
sighed as she looked at her daughter's pale face, and thought of the
weary hours she had spent in study, while other girls were at play.
Examination-day came. It was sultry even for July. But the girls at
the Grammar School, who had drooped like wilted flowers, now bloomed
bright and fresh once more. Those who had new dresses wore them on
this occasion, and all came to school with hair smoothly brushed the
very last thing.
Ah, who does not know the flutter at the heart when the "three
committee-men," or "trustees," knock; and are solemnly asked in and
seated? Some of us have felt this flutter for the last time; but you
children will understand just how the girls felt that day, with
parents, older sisters, and neighbors to look on and criticise.
Tall Miss Allen looked serene, but there was a tremulous motion of her
mouth and fingers. On her desk was a vase of beautiful flowers, which
Grace had brought, carefully shielded under her sun-umbrella.
Mrs. Clifford and Mrs. Hallock, with a few other ladies, occupied the
raised platform behind the desk. Mrs. Linck sat near the window,
cooling her heated face by the use of a large feather fan.
Mahla was in her old seat; there was a beautiful pink color in her
cheeks, which one could see was the flush of excitement, not the glow
of health.
And over by the west window sat the bosom friends, Grace and Cassy,
their tender friendship undisturbed by a single feeling of rivalry;
for, owing to Cassy's long absence from school, she had not the
faintest hope of the prize. Grace's sunny ringlets and sparkling eyes
danced with eagerness. She looked as tidy as ever, in a thin blue
dress, with rivulets of blue ribbon flowing down the skirt. Cassy's
pensive face was lighted up with more than usual animation.
It was a pleasure to see these two young friends together. Mrs.
Clifford looked at them with a smile which was half a tear, as she
remembered just such a friendship in her own childhood. Many other
ladies watched Grace and Cassy with interest, and were carried back to
the "days that are no more"--days whose dewy freshness can no more he
recalled than the sweet apple-blossoms which fell so softly into the
grass last year.
But the question of the day was, "Who would get the prize?" Perhaps
Captain Clifford, who sat with several other gentlemen near the door,
felt more interest in the result than he confessed to himself. Horace
stood near his father, as grave as a little judge. He ran over the
whole school with his eye, and mentally decided that Grace was the
prettiest girl in the room next to Cassy; for Cassy was his beau-ideal
of beauty and goodness.
The reading was over, and the copy-books were offered for inspection.
Then the trustees began to ask questions. Grace's face lighted up; the
hectic in Mahla's cheeks burned brighter still. Mrs. Clifford was
sorry to see this feverish eagerness. She had never liked prizes, and
now approved of them less than ever. In geography, Isa Harrington held
out bravely, but at last yielded to Grace and Mahla, who kept
together, neither gaining upon the other.
The audience grew interested: the trustees looked at one another and
smiled. Then came spelling. So many odd words were found--words which
most of the girls had forgotten were in McGuffey's Spelling-Book.
But though the others hesitated, neither Grace nor Mahla were caught
tripping. One by one, all dropped off from the ranks but these two,
who resolutely held their ground, though hard words rattled about
their ears like bullets. At last came the test-word--one of the
easiest, too--"pillory." Grace spelled it with an "a" instead of an
"o." She knew her mistake in a second, and Mr. Reynolds paused, hoping
she would correct herself. But though others had done this repeatedly,
Grace was at once too proud and too generous. The flash in Mahla's
eyes, as she spelled the word after her, was not one of triumph. She
was really sorry Grace had not done better for herself.
Next came arithmetic. This had always been Mahla's weak point, and Mr.
Reynolds at first asked questions slowly, meaning to give her time to
think. But it was soon evident that Mahla knew very well what she was
doing, and could not be easily puzzled. True, Grace had gone over more
ground; but this the trustees would not have known if Miss Allen had
not informed them in an aside-whisper.
"Ah, yes, yes," nodded Mr. Reynolds, peeping over his spectacles at
Grace, with a glance which meant, "Well done! well done!"
In grammar, again, Grace and Mahla were well matched. If there was any
difference, Mahla excelled in giving rules, for her verbal memory was
excellent.
The trustees were surprised to find the two rivals so well informed,
while at the same time they were puzzled as to any preference. They
whispered together. Mr. Reynolds rubbed his spectacles as if they
would help him see his way clear; Dr. Snow scratched his learned head,
and Mr. Newell leaned backward in his chair to meditate.
The audience felt somewhat as people feel in a court-room when the
jury are out deciding an interesting case. From time to time Mrs.
Linck looked anxiously at her daughter, as if she feared the
excitement would be too much for her.
All the while the prize was lying on the desk, wrapped in brown paper.
What it was no one knew; but the girls fancied it was "large enough to
be almost anything."
They were growing uneasy, and the teacher herself tapped the floor
gently with her foot, as if she thought it high time a decision was
made.
At last, when Mr. Reynolds had finished polishing his spectacles, he
took from the brown wrapper a beautiful rosewood writing-desk, and
held it up to view, opening it to show the elegant workmanship.
"Young ladies, I would like your attention a few moments! Upon
examination, we find two of you so nearly equal that it is no easy
matter to decide which deserves the prize. Miss Grace Clifford does
well--exceedingly well. Her reading we consider superior to Miss Mahla
Linck's, and their copy-books are equally neat. The truth is, we wish
we had two prizes to give, instead of one. But as that cannot be, we
have at last concluded to award this writing-desk to--Miss Mahla. Now
we wish you all distinctly to understand why we do this," continued
he, placing the points of his forefingers together. "It is because we
think the effort she has made in arithmetic this term deserves a
reward. She has always been a good student, but within the past few
weeks her progress in arithmetic has been remarkable!"
There was a general hum of satisfaction. Poor Mrs. Linck was fairly
trembling for joy, and Mahla looked as if a star had dropped from the
sky at her feet.
As for Grace, her heart was so full that she could hardly force back
the tears. They should not fall. Nobody would understand that she was
crying for joy!
When Mahla whispered to Grace that night, "O, Gracie, I wouldn't have
had it but for you, dear!" it would be hard to tell which was the
happier girl, grateful Mahla Linck, or noble Grace Clifford.
Nobody but the Lincks, the Cliffords, and Cassy ever knew the whole
story. If people had heard it, they would have foolishly praised Grace
for her beautiful simplicity of conduct. Then Grace might possibly
have grown proud and self-conscious, and that would have spoiled all.
Mrs. Clifford begged leave to furnish the desk with the choicest
writing materials. It gave her pleasure to do this, for nothing in her
daughter's best deeds had ever touched her like her disinterested
kindness to Mahla.
Grace was overjoyed to find that her father did not seem disappointed
or displeased with her. He was apparently as glad as any one of
Mahla's good fortune. He kissed his daughter that night more tenderly
than usual, and there was something in his approving smile which Grace
valued, after all, more than a hundred prizes.