A DISGUSTED POET
When Laura rashly undertook the rôle of stage manager, or to say more
truly, when the position devolved upon her as a matter of course,
because she was the president of the Happy-Go-Luckys, she accepted the
honor and the duties in blithe confidence, never dreaming of
difficulties.
For a time everything went smoothly, and that lively sympathy for
others in like position which marked her after years would never,
perhaps, have been called forth was it not for her discovery one day in
the attic of an old reader which contained something she thought could
be used as a dialogue in the coming exhibition.
It was a poem in which each of four children expresses a cherished
ambition to the mother, who comments on the wish with approval or
censure.
The piece required two boys, and Laura's brother Mat and his chum, Hugh
Bonner, were called upon, and after some grumbling on their part and as
much coaxing on the part of the girls they "came in to help the
Happy-Go-Luckys out," as they expressed it.
They were assigned their characters; Laura took the rôle of mother,
giving the girls' parts to Alene and Ivy.
"I ask for beauty, for an eye
Bright as the stars in yonder sky;
For tresses on the air to fling
And put to shame the raven's wing;
Cheeks where the lily and the rose
Are blended in a sweet repose;
For pearly teeth and coral lip,
Tempting the honey bee to sip,
And for a fairy foot as light
As is a young gazelle's in flight,
And then a small, white, tapering hand--
I'd reign, a beauty, in the land!"
This was Alene's verse, but Ivy read it over and over instead of her
own, and the oftener she read, the more discontented she grew.
"Why should Alene wish for 'a fairy foot, as light as is the young
gazelle's in flight' when she has one already--two of 'em for that
matter?" she thought. "The other wish is fine, I know--'a noble gift,'
the mother says, but I don't care, I can't do justice to it as I could
to the other! Of course, I don't care much for the 'eye, bright as the
stars,' and all that rubbish, but I can imagine being light and gay and
dancing!"
Although Ivy learned her part she went through it at rehearsal in such
a spiritless way that Laura could not have failed to remark it if she
were not occupied with so many other things.
When Alene's turn came and she stepped forward rather timidly to
recite, Ivy listened eagerly to her rendition. It proved to be
letter-perfect but expressionless. Ivy was justified in thinking that
she herself could have done much better.
"She says it just in the way you might wish for a piece of plum cake or
another gum-drop," she mused bitterly.
No one suspected her dissatisfaction except Hugh, who someway
understood all the moods of the frail little sister whom he worshiped.
In her sick spells, dating from a fall five years before, no one could
move her so tenderly, nor place her in so comfortable a position as
this sturdy lad of fifteen.
He resented Ivy's affliction even more than she did herself.
"I don't see why it couldn't have been one of us big lubbers of boys
instead of her," he grumbled to his mother. "She seems to be made to
run and dance and play--almost to fly like a bird."
"It's the Lord's will," returned Mrs. Bonner with a sigh.
"Umph! I don't know! When doctors fail to cure a disease, it seems
pesky mean to blame it on the Lord! If we were only rich enough, I bet
we could find some clever doctor who could make her O.K.! Why couldn't
it have been a rich girl instead of her?"
"Oh, Hugh! That is wrong! Why need it be any poor little creature?"
said the mother, who thought to herself that in this case money would
indeed be a desirable thing; she never envied the rich except when she
thought of Ivy.
But the boy, with all youth's revolt, hated the seeming injustice and
his resentment often extended to those whose wealth made the difference
so marked.
When Ivy, trying to conceal her own disapproval, spoke of Alene's
joining the Happy-Go-Luckys, Hugh was opposed to it.
"I know just how it will be, and you girls are makin' a big guess when
you take her in," he had warned.
"But she seemed so lonely, and Laura wanted it so much--"
"So did that city chap who used to go with us boys. He looked all
right, but my, nothin' suited him. He laughed at our dug-bait, and
fishin' rods, and our old-fashioned skiff and things, and talked about
his pa's yacht and motor-cars and his ma's diamonds, until we were sick
of 'em all!"
"But Alene is different," replied Ivy, and her brother said no more but
wore a look of "just wait and you'll find out that I told you so," that
was exasperating.
As time passed and he heard nothing but praises of Alene, and saw for
himself her unassuming manners and her evident good will, he was
obliged to confess that she was a good little thing in spite of her
citified dress and her haughty relations; but in this dialogue affair
he thought it too bad that the fortunate little maid, who had
everything else, should stand in Ivy's way.
"I'll give a hint to Laura," he suggested.
"Oh, no, no, Hugh! Don't say a word to anyone! Not for the world!"
"After all, your part is fine. The other is silly stuff--sounds like
some empty-headed thing!"
"Oh, Hugh, it's beautiful! Anyway, I could just enter into part of it!
I'm tired of being tied to crutches and people thinkin', because of
them, one never even wants any foolishness and fun, like other girls!"
Hugh looked troubled.
"It's a wonder Laura didn't think you might--"
"Laura didn't think anything about it! She just saw it was about a
poet, and so the very thing for me!"
"Maybe Alene would--"
"Yes, I know she'd give it up if she knew I wanted it! She's an
unselfish little thing. She took it because it was all that was left
when Laura disposed of the 'soulful poet' part," Ivy said. Then after
a silence, "I wonder why bad health makes me cranky and selfish and
envious, instead of patient and meek, like the little girls in story
books!"
Hugh smiled. He couldn't imagine his sprightly sister in the story
book rôle of uncomplaining heroine, and he wouldn't wish to have her
so, not for the world. Ivy was Ivy with all her faults; he wouldn't
wish to have her otherwise except a happier Ivy, with the blessing of
health and strength, flitting gaily through life, having part in the
work and the play of the world.