WEDDING GIFTS
Mr. Kemp had gone off on a sketching trip with some of his former
fellow students. The studio was closed for the time being. Elizabeth,
particularly, missed the figure of her friend swinging along the road,
hat off, sketch box in evidence. He always gave a cheery call as he
passed, and his merry whistle was heard long after he had gone by. It
still wanted nearly two months before the close of school, but Miss
Jewett’s wedding was already talked of, and the new house next to Miss
Dunbar’s was almost finished. Nothing gave Elizabeth and Betsy more
pleasure than to visit this future home of their teacher. Betsy felt
a peculiar interest in it because it would be her uncle’s, too, and
Elizabeth was deeply concerned in anything associated with her beloved
Miss Jewett, so the two little girls had many an intimate talk over
this new home.
“Uncle Rob says they are going to stay at Miss Dunbar’s till they
get the house all furnished, and they want to do it gradually,” Betsy
informed her friend. “They don’t want to go in until it looks cosey and
homelike, and the grounds are all cleared up. Of course they are going
to be gone for two months on their honeymoon, and will buy most of the
things in the city before they come back. Won’t it be fun, Elizabeth,
to watch them fix up the house; and won’t it be funny to say aunt
Margaret instead of Miss Jewett?”
Elizabeth sighed. “I wish she were going to be my aunt Margaret, too,”
she said.
“Maybe she will let you call her so,” said Betsy, with a generous
impulse. “I am going to ask her.”
“Oh Betsy, would you really!” Elizabeth’s face was radiant.
“Why, certainly I will; but not yet, of course. I couldn’t till she is
really my aunt, you know.”
“Oh, that will be soon enough,” agreed Elizabeth. “I think it was
lovely of you to think of that, Betsy. What are you going to give her
for a wedding present?”
“I don’t know exactly, but something very, very nice, of course.”
“Are you and Hal going to give something together, or are you going to
give something by yourself?”
“By myself. Hal is going to get it. Aunt Em is going to give them all
their flat silver, and probably Hal and I will give silver, too. Mrs.
Lynde is going to give them something for the house,--a picture, I
think Bess said they were thinking of. Bess is going to give a lamp or
a clock, she hasn’t decided which.”
Elizabeth sighed again. It seemed hard that she could not do as much
when she was quite sure that she loved Miss Jewett better than any of
these others did. “I don’t know what I shall give,--only some little
thing,” she confessed. “The family will give something nice, I suppose,
and Kathie is making some pretty things by hand, things to wear, I
mean. Mother hasn’t told me whether I can give a separate something or
not, but I do so want to. I wish I could hang her walls with wonderful
tapestries, and scatter articles of value all through her rooms. I
should like to drape her windows with silken hangings and strew soft
rugs for her dainty feet, and I fain would crowd her galleries with
lovely pictures to gladden her eyes.”
Betsy laughed. “She hasn’t any galleries, and she wouldn’t like them
crowded, anyway.”
“Oh Betsy, you are so very lateral,” said Elizabeth. “You have so much
unimagination. I was just picturing to myself a lordly domicil for
a favored dame. I wish,--I wish,--I wish I could think of something
perfectly beautiful and dandy that I could give her, but alas, Betsy, I
am impecunrious.”
“You know perfectly well, Elizabeth, that she will not care, and that
she will value whatever you give her much more than the gifts of some
others I could mention.”
“Well, I hope so,” returned Elizabeth, somewhat consoled. “I am going
to ask Dick the next time he comes home and perhaps he can help me out
with an original idea; he often does.”
But before Elizabeth saw Dick again a subject came up which so excited
her that even Miss Jewett’s wedding present was a matter of less
importance. It was the very next morning after her talk with Betsy that
an announcement was made at school which set all the older pupils to
whispering and wondering.
“Before we open school, children,” said Miss Jewett, “I want to say
to you that two scholarships have been established at the Academy.
These are open to the pupils of this school. One for the boys and the
other for the girls. There will be an examination at the end of the
term, but the record for the year will be considered as well as the
marks of the examination papers. Of course this applies to the older
girls and boys only; those who are in our highest class, I mean. Anyone
over twelve years of age, that is who has already entered his or her
thirteenth year, is eligible. Of course the time is short, but I think
it is better so as the regular work of the year will be a fairer
test of scholarship than a sudden industrious spurt would be. I am
not at liberty just yet to make known the name of the person who has
established these scholarships, but this will be done when the names of
the fortunate winners are announced.”
“When do we take the examinations?” spoke up Phil Selden.
“The last week of the term,” Miss Jewett told him. “Instead of the
usual examinations, those required by the Academy will be given. They
will be written ones, of course.”
With all good intention of settling down to work with more than
ordinary zeal, the larger boys and girls could not keep their attention
absolutely fixed upon their books that morning. One or two of the girls
had already made their plans to go off to boarding-school, but of
those remaining there were enough to make it a matter of competition,
and what a buzz there was when the hour of recess came. Bess declared
once and for all that she wasn’t going to try. She would go to the
Academy, anyhow, and there wasn’t the slightest use in wearing out her
soul in making an effort to do more than merely pass. Corinne wasn’t
sure whether she would be in the neighborhood another winter; it would
depend upon how long her parents remained abroad. Maria Black was going
to boarding-school and wasn’t going to bother with an examination.
Phil Selden looked very determined when he said: “Well, I, for one,
am going to try my level best.” Bert was outside the limit of age and
did not concern himself. Patsy McGonigle was a little older, being
barely twelve. He scratched his head and looked dubious, but didn’t say
whether he would enter the lists or not.
As for Elizabeth, she was so excited that she could scarcely speak.
She mixed up her words more than ever and went from tragedy to comedy
by leaps. “I shall simply respire if I don’t get it,” she cried. “Oh
dear, I wish a fairy would help me. Betsy, who do you suppose is the
saintly personage who has done this benefacted deed? Is it male or
female? I would kiss his hand upon my bended knees.”
“Maybe it isn’t a he; maybe it is a she,” remarked Betsy. “Oh,
Elizabeth, perhaps it is your aunt Eunice.”
“Ye shades of Venus! perhaps it is,” cried Elizabeth. “Well, I won’t
kiss her hand, and I won’t get on my knees to her. Do you suppose it
really could be?”
“I think it could very well be, for you know we are always hearing of
the kind and charitable things she does.”
“And it would be just like her to do it without unclosing her name
until the very last; she’s just that kind of animal. I’ll bet it is
she. The more I think of it the more I am certain. Well, all is I
shall be on my most enduring mettle, steel or iron, or whatever it may
be. I shall burn the midnight oil and I shall let the sickly hue of
resolution be o’ercast by thought. Oh Betsy, I am so excited I can
scarcely retain myself within this narrow body. When the fearsome day
comes I shall call upon all the saints, angels and ministers of grace
to assist me. If I fail, oh, if I should fail! Perish the unworthy
thought! but if I should, I know I shall fall in a dead faint on the
floor, and I shall have to be borne out to an early grave. Of course
you are going to try.”
“I am going to try, I think, because I want a good record, although I
suppose I will go to the Academy anyhow, for aunt Em has promised I
should.”
“Suppose you should get it and I not!” cried Elizabeth. “It would be
the most heart-rending tragedy.”
Betsy looked at her with startled eyes. “Oh Elizabeth,” she said. “I
never thought of that. Maybe I will not try after all.”
“Oh, but you must if you want to. I should not be satisfied to have
anyone make a sacrifice for me.”
“I suppose it will have to be as aunt Em and uncle Rob say,” returned
Betsy thoughtfully. “If they insist upon it I shall have to, I suppose.”
So the matter was disposed of and the two went back into the
schoolroom the more eager over their studies than before.
Elizabeth was a bright scholar and Betsy was not far behind. They both
stood on a par with one or two of the older girls, and felt that they
had good reasons for thinking they could compete with them. Elizabeth
poured forth her news at home with all her usual exuberance. Betsy
reported it more quietly.
“Elizabeth, if you don’t do your level best,” cried Kathie, “I shall
want to shake you.”
“I shall not only want to shake myself,” replied Elizabeth, “but I
shall want to hide my undiminished head in solitary places.”
“And if you do get it, what then?” asked Kathie, laughing.
“I shall skip like the roe upon the mountain-top. I shall sing
hallelujahs with all my might, and my soul will take wings to the
firmament on high with all the blue ethereal sky.”
“Well, my most emotional and dramatically inclined sister, let me give
you one piece of advice. Don’t use high-flown language when you are
writing your examination papers, and try to acquire a correct use of
words before you do any stunts in English composition.”
Elizabeth looked sober. She was well aware that her use of words was
open to criticism, for Miss Jewett was often quite severe upon her,
but she did so like to flourish high-sounding words. However, it would
be no time for the exercise of likes and dislikes, she well knew, and
she determined to make a very earnest effort to curb her imagination
when it came to such an important thing as an examination. “Kathie,”
she said, very gravely, “I am really going to try just as hard as I
can. I am, I am. If you see any way in which you can help me, please do
it, and I won’t answer back or anything; I will take it as meekly as
a lamb, I will, indeed. All you will have to say if you see signs of
rebellion----”
“There, now! stop right there,” cried Kathie. “Couldn’t you say that
more simply?”
Elizabeth flushed up. “What must I say? If you see that I don’t like
it?”
“Yes, that is better. Well, then?”
“If you see that I don’t like it,” Elizabeth improved still further,
“just don’t pay any attention, but go on chiding. Is chiding right?”
“Perhaps it would be better to say: Go on correcting me. Very well,
honey, I will help you all I can.”
“What am I going to give Miss Jewett?” asked Elizabeth. “Betsy and I
were talking about the wedding presents, mother, and she and Bess are
both going to give something very, very nice.”
A little cloud came over Mrs. Hollins’s face. “I wish you, too, could
give something very, very nice, but I am sure Miss Jewett will be quite
as much pleased with some simple thing. She knows you are fond of
her, and she also knows that we cannot afford as much as some of our
neighbors.”
“What are you going to give her, mother?”
“I am having a workstand put in order for her. It is an old one which
belonged to my grandmother. We have another, and I thought I could
spare this. I know Miss Jewett wants one, for she has often admired the
one in my room. I think she will value such a gift more than anything I
could buy for her.”
“I think so, too, for I know she loves old furniture when it is really
nice. I am glad it is something for her very own self. May I tell
Betsy, mother?”
“If you like. Perhaps I can find something for you to give her. I had
not really thought of your making a separate gift, but I can readily
understand that you would like to.”
Elizabeth went off much heartened by this, but the question passed out
of her mind when she met Betsy and was told that Miss Tyson and Betsy’s
uncle both thought it best that she should take the examination. “It
will establish your record, if it does nothing more,” said Miss Emily.
“Even if you do not win the scholarship, your place in the Academy will
be understood. It would gratify me very much, of course, if you were to
win, although the money consideration is a small part of it.”
“If anyone wins, I hope it will be Elizabeth,” returned Betsy, “for she
really needs it and I don’t.”
“That may be true, but as she has an equal chance with the others, I do
not think we should let her opportunity outrank yours.”
So this was what Betsy had to report to her first best, and Elizabeth
felt that she must make her very best endeavor to come out ahead of the
rest. There would be five girls to compete with and it was going to be
a close contest, she feared. The boys would have an equally exciting
time, and these last weeks of school promised to be the very busiest
ones of the year. It was well that Mr. Kemp was away, for now there was
no temptation to go to the studio. Lessons were always the very first
consideration, and Elizabeth worked like a beaver over them. Even the
gray house did not see her very often. There was less self-denial in
this because Miss Darby was still there, and although Elizabeth still
believed that she was the one who had offered the scholarships, she had
no great wish to come in contact with the lady. With the scholarships,
she might win her great-aunt’s approval; if she did not win she felt
quite sure that she would be looked upon with even less kindliness than
at present. There was much at stake, and these were stirring times for
Elizabeth.
The pleasanter subject of the approaching marriage came in with a sort
of tranquillizing effect. It was the first wedding in which Elizabeth
had ever been personally interested, and every detail was known by
heart. Kathie was to be one of the bridesmaids, and Hal one of the
ushers. Although the wedding ceremony would take place in the city in
which Miss Jewett had been living, it might be possible that Elizabeth
could go. Betsy was determined that she should, and had a little
scheme of her own which she hoped would work to advantage. She was
waiting till she should see her brother Hal before she mentioned it to
Elizabeth. She knew Hal would fall in with the scheme and she thought
her uncle would, too, but she would bide her time.
So the lovely May days went by, full of so many interests that, long
as they were, they were all too short for the things that must be
accomplished, and each brought nearer that day of the examinations.
Then one morning on the first day of June Elizabeth heard a familiar
call and saw Mr. Kemp swinging along past the house. She ran out on the
porch to hail him.
He waved gayly to her. “Come over, come over,” he called. “I can’t stop
now, but come over just as soon as you can.”