THE PAGEANT
"We were just saying, Charlotte dear, that this absurd school affair has
completely overshadowed your wedding day," said Mrs. Cockrell, as she
rocked back and forth in tune with her Irish point rose she was
constructing. "It seems to me a wedding ought to come before a school
festivity."
"Social law requires that marriage take precedence of schooling," said
Mrs. Sproul, as her mischievous old eyes snapped at Mrs. Cockrell's
placid conventionality. "The correct order is for women to take husbands
and then school children should be the inevitable outcome. They are not,
however, in this day and generation, which is about to be the last, I'm
thinking."
"There will be thirty-nine kiddies from the Settlement and eleven from
the Town to feast on reason and flow soul together in the new school," I
laughed, as I sat down between them. "Also I'm thinking that a lot more
will be forthcoming from the Settlement by next week. Young Charlotte
and Mother Spurlock clothed as far as they could, but they will keep at
it, I feel sure. I feel guilty at the idea of taking three trunks of
clothes away from the watchful eye of Mother Elsie, only I'm leaving the
accumulation of years for her distribution."
"The passport to Elsie Spurlock's heart is a condition composed of rags,
hunger and unhappiness. She has no sympathy or time for a sanitary and
contented friend," said Mrs. Sproul with a decided tartness that was
only a reflex of the deep affection she bore the mistress of the Little
House, which had existed since childhood and would endure.
"I hear some of the cars coming," announced Mrs. Cockrell, as she began
to crochet furiously at the last petal of a rose. "Is my cap straight? I
do so want to finish this row and can't go in to look."
"You'll put out St. Peter's eye with a crochet needle while he's
unlocking the pearly gates for you, Lettie Cockrell," said Mrs. Sproul,
as she rose and stood with ceremony at the head of the steps to meet
the Governor and Mr. Jeffries and father as they came up her front walk.
Mrs. Sproul always has the most delightful old world sort of midday
dinners and it was two o'clock before we all arose from her long table,
at one end of which had been demolished a spiced ham and from the other
end had disappeared two fat summer turkeys. A saddle of lamb had been
passed in between and we had wound up with sweet potato custards, apple
float and ice cream.
"I understand now," said Mr. Jeffries, as his keen old eyes twinkled
down the table at Nickols. "This food should produce geniuses. The South
feeds for it."
"Yes, we eat, drink, are merry and do it all over again to-morrow," said
Mark, as he walked beside Mrs. Sproul from the devastated dining room.
"And we must all hurry if we are to see your young ideas begin to shoot.
This day isn't really hot, but just thinks it is. Look at those clouds
boiling up back of Old Harpeth as if wanting to storm, but afraid to
begin it. There's not a breath of air stirring. Wish it _would_ shower,
for I believe the colors of Goodloe's pageant would run and I'd like to
see the true hue of this melee of his come out in the wash. It would do
Charlotte good to fade a bit. She has been hectic since daylight and the
rest of my juvenile family with her. Jimmy is S and Z in the alphabet
and Sue has got a huge A sewed on her back. Goodloe intends that
education shall be nailed to 'em."
And at his admonition to hurry and the alluring description of the
entertainment to come, we all betook ourselves on foot toward the
schoolhouse down the street a few blocks, halfway between the Town and
the Settlement.
And as we went all the rest of the Town hurried out of wide, high,
vine-covered doors, down broad, flower-lined walks, and joined us from
under bowers of blooming roses, honeysuckle and clematis. We actually
approached the schoolhouse in the form of quite a large procession, and
as we wound our way down the hill we met a like procession winding
itself up the hill from the Settlement, a procession arrayed in its best
bib, tucker and boiled shirt, just as we were adorned in silk, lace,
fine muslin and linen.
"It looks like two armies approaching each other--Greek is going to meet
Greek," said Billy.
"Rather Greek meets Vandal, and there stands Goodloe to do the
interpreting," Nickols jeered in answer.
And as we all flocked into the wide gate of the school yard I was again
struck with the great beauty of the tall, broad, lithe, free man who
stood in the middle of the walk just inside, welcoming Town and
Settlement alike. And while he greeted us, his enthusiastic flock of
older children seated the groups of guests on the long rough benches
which were placed facing the door of the schoolhouse, leaving a wide
space at the foot of the steps, which was roped off with golden chains
of black-eyed daisies and which was evidently to be used as a stage for
the pageant.
"Just look how Goodloe is failing to mix his oil and water," Nickols
whispered to me, as we observed all of the Settlement groups gravely
gravitate to the left side of the walk while all the Town in chattering
parties took seats on the right. "That's right, Burns, take off my last
summer coat," he added, still in a whisper to me as the Burns parent
struggled out of the unendurable gift garment and thus gave a signal
that whipped off every coat on the left side of the walk in the
twinkling of an eye, to the evident distress of the tightly girted and
uncomfortable but more formal feminine members of the Settlement
contingent. Conjugal strife was about to make its appearance when Mother
Spurlock, who was seated beside poor little Hettie Garrett, holding the
Mother Only in her arms with never a glance for Mrs. Sproul, who had
beckoned her to a seat next to her own beruffled silk skirts, passed the
word around that such comfort was to be accorded the masculine guests.
Even with such sanction, however, Luella May Spain looked pained at her
father's gay new red suspenders, and I could see that Mr. Todd's striped
shirt was hurting the feelings of Sadie Todd dreadfully, and she and
Luella May returned Billy's gallant salute with the greatest
embarrassment. And in all the buzz I found myself looking anxiously for
Martha Ensley's pale face and dark eyes, but failed to find them.
"This is one place she ought not to have to peep into; here she has the
rights of her citizenship and her motherhood," I said to myself.
But if the Town and the Settlement sat in the seats of the audience,
divided by the walk as were the walls of waters by the dry path along
which Moses led his chosen people out of the darkness of Egypt, such a
division was not noticeable among the performers of the pageant who were
supposed to be in hiding with their costumes behind a tall screen of
shrubs at one side of the schoolhouse, but who bubbled out on all sides.
Charlotte appeared once holding small Maudie Burns in a comforting
embrace and guided her to her mother for some sort of attention to the
very short skirts of blue gingham which were draped with about ten yards
of green crepe paper, while both Harriet and I gasped as we saw Mikey
jauntily hand the Suckling, tightly wrapped in brown swaddlings, into
the rapturous and tender embrace of Katie Moore, who had blue wings
sewed to her small gingham shoulders.
"Great Guns! They've got Sucks in it, too!" gasped Billy. "That child is
too young to educate and Goodloe ought to be restrained from
cradle-snatching like--"
But just here Billy was interrupted and the audience all quieted down as
Mr. Goodloe, in his white flannels and with his gold head ablaze in the
sun, which suddenly shone out fiercely from behind a white cloud which
was sheeting internally with electricity, mounted two of the front
steps of the schoolhouse and held up his hand for silence.
"Mr. Todd," he said with beautiful deference, "will you lead us in
prayer?" There was a perceptible rustle of feeling on the Settlement
side of the walk, for Mr. Todd was one of the parson's deacons, but he
had also been the master workman in the building of the schoolhouse, and
his neighbors were quick to respond to the tribute offered him before
the distinguished men present. He rose, gaunt and grizzled in his shirt
sleeves, but what he said was brief and as square-cut and to the point
as any nail he had ever driven. I saw the Governor and father exchange
glances and I noticed when the Governor responded to his call he was
much less ornate of speech than usual and much more universal. They all
spoke, from Nickols along the line to father, and after repeated urgings
Mother Spurlock rose to the occasion, and by way of making the Town and
Settlement at home in its new joint quarters announced that the tea
canister with its slit would hereafter be nailed just inside the
schoolhouse door.
The laugh and delighted applause that was given her seemed to have been
the last straw to the actors behind the shrubbery, restrained by their
young preceptress, for the pageant broke upon us.
First Mikey, with huge white cambric stork wings, hopped upon the stage
of sward and deposited the brown-wrapped Suckling in a hollow log in the
center, and departed flapping. After that the ceremonial developed
itself into the education that was to flow down upon her defenseless
head at the waving of the wand of Minerva, who was Charlotte with a
tinsel star of wisdom resting rampantly upon her brow. And it came down
upon the Suckling with a vengeance. A whole troop of young letters of
the alphabet, led by small Susan with the large red A upon her fat back,
danced around the Suckling's helplessness and finally backed up to the
audience to spell the word "Reading." Next in hopped a flock of numerals
led by the indefatigable Mikey, which backed up and presented themselves
from one to ten to thus imply the hated science of "Arithmetic."
The Suckling slept on amid delighted gurgles from her mother and
Harriet. She slept through a presentation of the script letters of
"Writing" and was still unconscious when "Geography" in crepe paper,
with flags of all nations, grouped around her. She only awoke when, all
by himself, sturdily, with his head in the air and fairly radiant with
beauty and courage, the Stray marched upon the scene, rolled into a
white roll of paper and girt about with a broad red ribbon sealed upon
his back to represent "Diploma." Silently and intent upon his duty he
walked straight to the Suckling in her log crib, bent over her, crooned
to her reassuringly a second, lifted her in his white arms and backed
off behind a tall laurel bush with her nodding in delight over his
shoulder. The boy was so beautiful and the little scene so tender that
the entire audience caught its breath at its--audacity. A gauntlet had
been thrown into the faces of both the Town and Settlement and they both
understood.
They sat perfectly still with astonishment while the performers were
being massed in the schoolhouse by the young teacher for their final
march out to the steps for the hymn singing with the beloved "Minister,"
which was to conclude the ceremonials.
And while the audience sat awaiting the further presentations to be
made them by their offspring, Mr. Goodloe came out the door and halfway
down the steps. Then suddenly he stopped and looked out over the valley
with such an expression on his face that with one accord his audience
rose and looked with him. And as it looked a groan came that was a
chorus melted into one voice of terror, while all of them stood helpless
with amazement. While we had all been sitting in the curious sweltering
heat, watching with pride a future for our children being foretold for
them by themselves, death had reared itself behind Old Harpeth, coiled
itself into a huge black spiral of thunder and lightning and was driving
down the valley upon Goodloets with a velocity that defied the eyes to
follow. For a long second every man and woman stood rooted to his
foothold on the earth and watched the tornado strike the edge of the
Settlement, smash down the saddlery as if it were a house of cards, and
churn the little tannery into the river. Then as it grasped the roof of
the Last Chance and began twisting it with a roar that grew in volume
every instant, Gregory Goodloe suddenly raised his hand and spoke in a
perfectly calm voice that rang out above the groan of the tortured
shanties of the Settlement which were crashing down against each other.
"Oh, God, we trust in the covert of thy wings," he prayed for a second
and then commanded: "Fall to the earth, all of you, and let it pass over
you!"
"The children!" came a cry that was a wail of parenthood, as we all sank
to the ground just as the terrible black monster tore the roof from the
Little House and hurled it toward us across the street. I saw a huge
rafter hurtle through the air and strike down Mark Morgan as he started
toward the steps of the schoolhouse, and by not a half inch did it miss
drunken, useless Mike Burns as it fell beside him. Then I covered my
eyes as the cloud and the wind passed over me and I only heard it strike
and rend and crash and tear the schoolhouse, beam from beam and stone
from stone. An eerie wail of the voices of little children was mixed
with the roar of the monster which crashed on up through the Town,
laying low the homes of our pride and prosperity, leaving us with our
faces to the ground while upon us began to pour a deluge of cold rain.
"Mark! Mark!" I heard Harriet moan beside me and I saw her crawl under
the wind toward where Mark had fallen.
"My babies, Oh, my babies!" came a wail in Nell's voice, and I saw her
try to rise, be knocked over by the wind and then begin to crawl toward
the wrecked mass that a second before had been the schoolhouse and from
which now could be heard the screams and cries of the children. Then as
suddenly as it had laid us low the cruel wind left us and with one
accord we all sprang to our feet and surged toward the children's calls
and cries that came out to us in the semi-darkness that still enveloped
us, though both the wind and the rain were abating.
But before a huge slab that had been the top step of the schoolhouse we
were all halted by a voice so stern and commanding that even the
agonized mothers and fathers paused.
"Stop! Not a man or a woman must come a step nearer," said the parson,
with the authority in his voice that must always be obeyed when used by
one human being to another. "The roof of the house has split and sunk in
the middle and only one side beam is supporting it. If it is touched by
so much as a hand it may lose its balance and fall on the children.
Only one man must come forward and put his shoulder under the beam at
the other end while I hold this. The children must come out one by one,
so as not to shake anything on them. The beam may fall. Do you all
understand me? One man!"
"Me, Parson, me!" demanded Mr. Todd.
"A broader, younger man, Todd," answered the parson, and he was casting
his eye over the huddled people before him when a wail came clear and
distinct from within the ruin.
"Stranger is caught and bleeding! Hurry, hurry!" were the words that
Charlotte sent forth with all the strength of her young lungs.
"It's my child, Oh, it's mine!" came an answering, cry, and from behind
some hiding place Martha Ensley flung herself across the front of the
huddled group of the Settlement people and against the defense of
Gregory Goodloe's strong arm which held her from the tottering doorway
he was supporting. "Let me get him out!"
"No, Martha," the parson said calmly and tenderly, as he held her back.
"Then _you_ come and get him," Martha said, as she suddenly straightened
herself and looked out among us of the Town. "He's yours--come and save
him!" But even in her agony she was cautious in her appeal, which came
without the demand of a name. We all held our breath for an instant,
Settlement and Town. Who would answer her?