SAND IN THE GEARS
Since the whole school had taken such a tremendous interest in "the
profession" at the time Central High blossomed forth in Jess Morse's play,
the M.O.R.s had given several playlets, and Mrs. Case, the physical
instructor, had staged folk dances and tableaux in the big hall.
For the Red Cross the association of girls connected with the Girls Branch
Athletic League that had carried forward these smaller affairs, had
determined to stage "a real play." Nellie Agnew, the doctor's daughter, and
secretary of the club, had sent to a publisher for copies of plays that
could be put on by amateurs, and interest in the affair waxed high already.
The principal point of decision was the identity of the play they were to
produce. Mr. Sharp and the other members of the school faculty had agreed
to let the girls act, and the big hall, or auditorium, could be used for
the production. At noon on Monday the girls interested in the performance
met in the principals office to decide upon the play.
"And of course," grumbled Bobby Hargrew to the Lockwood twins, Dora and
Dorothy, "all the teachers have got to come and interfere. We can't do a
sol-i-ta-ry thing without Gee Gee, or Miss Black, or some of them, poking
their noses into it."
"You can't say that Professor Dimp pokes his nose into our affairs,"
laughed Dora.
"No, indeed," said her twin. "Outside of his Latin and physics he doesn't
seem to have a single idea."
"Doesn't he?" scoffed Bobby. "The boys say he's gone into the dressmaking
business, or something."
"What is that?" asked Dora, smiling. "What do they mean?"
"Why, the professor's niece is living with him now. He is not much used to
having a woman in his sitting-room, I guess. She sits and sews with him in
the evening while he reads or corrects our futile work," said Bobby,
grinning.
"The other night Ellie Lingard--that's his niece--lost her scissors and she
said they hunted all over the room for them. The next morning in one of the
physics classes the professor opened his book, and there were the lost
scissors, which he had tucked into it for a bookmark while he helped Ellie
Lingard hunt for her lost property."
"Oh, oh!" laughed the twins.
"The worst of it was," continued Bobby, with an elfish grin, "Old Dimple
grabbed them up and said right out loud: 'Oh, here they are, Ellie!' The
boys just hooted, and poor Old Dimp was as mad as a hatter."
"The poor old man," said Dorothy commiseratingly.
It was a fact that, although Professor Dimp did not interfere in this play
business, most of the other teachers desired to have their opinions
considered. The girls would not have minded Mr. Sharp. Indeed, they courted
his advice. But when Miss Grace Gee Carrington stood up to speak, some of
them audibly groaned.
Miss Carrington was Mr. Sharp's assistant and almost in complete control of
the girls of the school. At least, the girls came in contact with her much
more than they did with Mr. Sharp himself.
She was a very stiff and precise woman, with an acrid temper and a sharp
tongue. She had been teaching unruly girls for so many years that she was
to a degree quite soured upon the world--especially that world of school
which she had so much to do with.
Of late, however, Miss Carrington had become interested "quite in a human
way," her girls said, in a person who had first appeared to the ken of the
girls of Central High as a Gypsy girl. Margit Salgo's father, a Hungarian
Gypsy musician, had married Miss Carrington's sister, much against the
desire of Miss Grace Gee Carrington herself. When the orphaned Margit found
her way to Centerport she made such an impression upon her aunt's heart
that the latter finally took the girl into her own home and adopted her as
"Margaret Carrington."
That, however, could not change Miss Carrington's nature. She was severe
and (in the opinion of fly-away Bobby Hargrew) she was much inclined to
interfere in the girls' affairs. On this occasion the girls were not
disappointed when Miss Carrington "said her little say."
"I approve of any acceptable attempt to raise funds for such a worthy
object as this we have in mind," said Miss Carrington. "An exhibition which
will interest the school in general and our parents and friends likewise,
meets, I am sure, with the approval of us all. Some of our young ladies, I
feel quite sure, show some talent for playing, and much interest therein.
Without meaning to pun, I would add that I wish they showed as great talent
for work as for play."
"She could not help giving us that dig, if she were to be martyred for it,"
Nellie Agnew whispered to Laura.
"Sh! She'll see your lips move," warned Dora Lockwood, on the other side of
the doctor's daughter. "I believe she has learned lip reading."
Miss Carrington went on quite calmly: "The first consideration, however, it
seems to me, is the selection of the play. I should not wish to see the
standard of Central High lowered by the acting of a play that would cater
only to the amusement-loving crowd. It should be educational. We should
achieve in a small way what the Greek players tried to teach--a love of
beauty, of form, of some great truth that can be inculcated in this way on
the public mind."
"But, Miss Carrington!" cried Bess Yeager, one of the seniors, almost
interrupting the staid teacher, "we want to make money for the Red Cross.
We could not get a room full with a Greek play."
"I beg Miss Yeager's pardon," said Miss Carrington stiffly. "We have our
standard of education to uphold first of all."
"I hope you will excuse me, Miss Carrington," said Laura, likewise rising
to object. "Our first object is to give the people something that will
amuse them so that they will crowd the auditorium. Otherwise our object
will not have been achieved. This is a purely money-making scheme," added
the jeweler's daughter with her low, sweet laugh.
"I am amazed to hear you say so!" exclaimed the instructor, quick for
argument at any time. "Have you young ladies no higher desire than to make
the rabble laugh?"
"I want you to know," muttered Jess Morse, "that my mother is coming, and
she isn't 'rabble.'"
Perhaps it was fortunate that Miss Carrington did not hear this comment.
But she could not fail to hear some of the others made by the girls. There
was earnest protest in all parts of the room. Mr. Sharp brought them to
order.
"Miss Carrington has, under ordinary circumstances, made an excellent
point, and I want you all to notice it," said the principal. "We are an
educational institution here on the hill. If we were giving a class play,
or anything like that, I should vote for Miss Carrington's idea. At such a
time something primarily educational should be in order.
"But as I understand it, you young ladies are going to act for the benefit
of the Red Cross fund, and what will benefit that fund the most is the
drawing together of a well-paying crowd to see you act.
"I am afraid we shall have to set aside our own desires, Miss Carrington,"
he continued, smiling at his assistant. "We must let the actors choose
their own play--as long as it is a proper one--and abide for once by the
decision of those of our friends who wish to be amused rather than
educated."
"He's half backing her up!" complained Dora.
"Well, he has to pour oil on the troubled waters," whispered Laura.
"Huh!" grumbled Bobby Hargrew. "But Gee Gee is determined to throw sand in
the gears, not oil on the waters. She always does."
Really, Miss Carrington seemed in an interfering mood that day. Nellie had
a collection of plays from which they were supposed to choose that very
session the one to be acted. There was but brief time to learn the parts
and the acting directions. But Mr. Mann, who had directed them in other
plays, said he thought he would be able to whip the girls into shape for a
performance in two weeks. Although they were amateurs, they had all had
some experience.
When the girls themselves got a chance to talk it was shown that their
desires were all for a parlor comedy with bright lines, some farcical turns
to the plot, but a play of sufficient weight to gain the approval of
sober-minded people. It was, however, far from being classic.
"Such a play is preposterous!" ejaculated Miss Carrington, breaking out
again. "Don't you think so yourself, Mr. Sharp?"
The principal had the book in his hand and was skimming through some of the
dialogue. If the truth was told he was on a broad grin.
"I don't know about that, Miss Carrington. It--it is really very funny."
"'Funny!'" gasped his assistant, with all the emphasis she dared show in
the presence of the principal. "As though to make fun should be our
target!"
"What would you like to have us play?" asked Bobby, daringly. "Julius
Caesar? If we do, I want to play old Julius. He dies in the first act. The
rest of us would be killed lingeringly by the audience, I know, before the
last."
"Miss Hargrew!" snapped the teacher. Then she remembered that this was not
a recitation and she could not easily punish the girl. She shook her head
and looked offended during the remainder of the discussion.
"But you know very well," snapped Lily Pendleton, a rather overdressed
girl, as they all crowded out of the schoolhouse after the meeting, "that
Gee Gee will do her wickedest to spoil it all."
"Oh, no!" cried Laura. "Not when it is for the Red Cross!"
"It wouldn't matter what the object was," said Jess morosely. "She always
does try to crab the game."
"Goodness, Josephine!" gasped her chum, "you are positively as slangy as
Chet."
"I guess I catch it from him," admitted Jess Morse. "And she is a crab!"
"Now girls!" called Nellie, a regular Martha for trouble at the present
moment. "Now girls, remember the 'sides' will be here day after tomorrow,
and Mr. Mann will look us over and give out the parts that afternoon in the
small hall. Nobody must be absent. We want this show to be the biggest
success that ever was."
"It won't be if Gee Gee can help it," growled Bobby Hargrew, shaking her
curls.