Lavia Smiley came into the eighth grade with a consuming passion for
color sensations. She had made collection after collection of colors in
all sorts of substances—cloth, paper, stone, soil, metals of various
sorts. She could give the names of all of them and could imitate them in
pigment mixtures with remarkable exactness, for a girl of her age and
very limited experience.
[Sidenote: Breaking Necklace]
One day, in the nature study class, Lavia’s teacher, Miss Westfeldt, had
given a lesson on shells, and among other interesting things had shown
the class a necklace of iridescent shells which her missionary brother
had sent her from Micronesia. The lovely bluish-whitish-greenish-pinkish
shimmer of the shells riveted Lavia’s attention like a magnet.
“O, please, Miss Westfeldt, let me take them,” said Lavia.
“No, Lavia,” answered Miss Westfeldt, “they are too delicate to handle,
but I’ll hold them here in the sunlight where you can see them well.
Aren’t they beautiful!”
“O, I never saw any thing so pretty!” was the reply.
The lesson ended, the necklace was laid back in the cotton in which it
had taken its long journey over sea and land. Miss Westfeldt placed the
box on the desk, intending to take it home with her when she went to
lunch, but just as the morning session was closing, a telegram was
handed her requiring an immediate answer. In her haste to attend to this
intrusive matter, and yet not forfeit her lunch, the box with its
precious necklace was forgotten.
The first bell was ringing when Miss Westfeldt returned.
She made haste to be in her place, as the children entered the room, and
not until they were seated did she think of the shell-necklace. She
opened the box. Ten were broken.
“O, what has happened to my beautiful shells!” she cried out, in dismay.
“How were they broken?”
No one answered, but Lavia was crying. Miss Westfeldt immediately
suspected that she was the guilty party, but she only said:
“I am very, very sorry that this has happened, but never mind about it
just now. I am sure the one who broke them will come and tell me about
it.”
Lavia continued to weep and after the other children were busy with
their study Miss Westfeldt stepped quietly up to her and, bending over
her and speaking in a tone so low the other children could not hear,
said:
“Lavia, dear, what is the matter?”
“O, Miss Westfeldt, I broke your shells,” whispered Lavia, and then
burst into another freshet of tears.
“I am so sorry,” was the low reply. “After school tonight come and tell
me all about it.”
School closed. Lavia remained; and when all the other children had gone,
Miss Westfeldt sat down beside her, put her arm around the child, her
hand resting lightly on Lavia’s shoulder, and said, still in a low tone:
“Now, Lavia, tell me how it all happened.”
“O, Miss Westfeldt,” began Lavia; “I wanted so bad to see if I could
paint the shells. I just ate a little bit of lunch and hurried back
quick before the children got here, and made this little painting of the
shells. Then I started to put them back in the box carefully; and I
heard somebody open the entry door as if they were coming in, and I
jumped and dropped the shells, and when I picked them up they were all
broken. I am awfully sorry, Miss Westfeldt. I’ll give you my painting,”
and the lips quivered again.
Miss Westfeldt looked at the painting. It confirmed Lavia’s story. The
different colors were crude, but remarkably good for a thirteen-year-old
girl. They indicated artistic promise. The teacher sat for a moment with
an absorbed expression on her face, then said:
“Lavia, you have grieved me very much today by breaking these shells;
now, will you do something to make me happy again? I did not know this
morning why you wanted to take the shells. If I place the box on your
desk where you can study the color effects and try to paint them, will
you promise me that you will try never again to meddle with things that
you have no right to touch?”
“O, yes, Miss Westfeldt, I will, indeed I will! And can I really have
them on my desk?”
“Yes, Lavia, and I will keep your painting as a pledge of your promise.
If you will ask me, after your lessons are learned, I have some other
beautiful things also, that you may paint. I am pleased that you told me
all the truth.”
Lavia kept her promise. The spirit of initiative in coöperation won.