WHAT HAPPENED AT SCHOOL
Little Sprite Seaford thought Avondale the brightest place that any
child ever lived in, and if the sky was blue, or if clouds hid the
sun, she smiled and still insisted that it was a cheery place.
She had not forgotten the charm of her home at the shore, but she
remembered that she always felt very gay when the sunlight glistened
on the waves.
She remembered that when the sky was overcast, the waves were dark and
sullen, and the great gulls flew far over the sea, her laugh lost its
gaiety, and she forgot to sing her merry songs.
Here at Avondale were trees bright with leaves of red and yellow,
gardens glowing with gorgeous fall flowers, and Sprite thought Avondale
looked as if it were one huge garden, through which avenues had been
cut, and houses, surrounded by spacious lawns, had been built.
School had opened a week earlier than usual, and Sprite already felt
"at home."
She was a favorite with the boys and girls, and, to her great delight,
she found that she had progressed in her studies, under her mother's
guidance, so that, although a trifle younger than Princess Polly, she
would be a member of the same class.
Polly, and Rose, and Sprite made a lovely trio, and older people meeting
them as they tripped along together, marvelled that three such beautiful
children, happened to be intimate neighbors.
Gwen Harcourt had not entered school on the first day, but one morning
she appeared with the news that she should attend school all the year
if she chose, but that she could leave at any time if she wished.
"Oh, but won't your mamma _make_ you go to school?" a small girl asked.
"My mamma never _makes_ me do anything!" declared Gwen sharply. "I
guess that's so!" Rob Lindsey said, softly.
"What did you say?" Gwen asked.
"I don't _dare_ to tell," declared Rob, in a teasing voice.
"You _needn't_!" cried Gwen, and she rudely turned her back toward
Rob, and commenced to talk to Leslie Grafton.
She talked so fast that she hardly knew what she was saying, but she
wished Rob Lindsey to think that she had quite forgotten that he was
there.
The bell rang, and while the others turned to hasten toward the school
house, Gwen walked along as if merely out for a stroll, and she entered
the schoolroom after all the others were seated. The new teacher thought
it a happening, but the pupils knew that Gwen had done it to learn if
the teacher would rebuke her.
As her tardiness passed unnoticed, Gwen at once decided to do something
more striking.
She was bright, and quick to learn, but she cared little for study,
and she would have been placed in a much lower class, but for her
mother's great influence.
Mrs. Harcourt had listened very patiently while it had been made clear
to her that her small daughter was not fitted for the class in which
her little friends were placed.
She was a charming woman, and she had begged, even insisted that Gwen
be placed in the class with Princess Polly, Rose Atherton, and Sprite
Seaford, and thus given the opportunity to prove that she could "keep
up" with her class.
The new teacher was amused, and believing that Gwen's stay in the class
would be of short duration, she yielded.
Gwen never studied, and on her first day, she decided that, as she
thought herself _very_ smart, she could, by listening to what others
were reciting, do very well without "bothering with books."
That was what she said, and the first question in Geography that she
answered, made Rob Lindsey call her a "star pupil."
"What is the capital of Brazil?" Gwen stared for a moment, then she
tossed her head as she said, pertly:
"Oh, anyone knows _that_!"
"_Next_!" said the teacher.
Gwen was surprised.
She had expected to be coaxed.
A few moments later she heard a small girl talking of the great Amazon
river. She caught the name, and later when asked to name the largest
river in Africa, she sprang to her feet, and glibly shouted:
"The Amazon!"
"Well, why do you laugh?" she asked, turning angrily to stare at the
laughing class.
She was offended, when told to sit down, and decided to tell her mother
that she had not received enough attention.
"I guess I'll say 'snubbed,' because that will make mamma _sure_ to
take my part," she softly whispered.
She changed her mind, she often did that, and thought that she would
not tell at home that she had been displeased.
She chose to attend school a week longer, or perhaps a number of weeks
longer, because Miss Kenyon, just before closing for the afternoon,
stated that on Friday of each week an hour would be reserved for
recitations, and for the reading of compositions.
Gwen thought she saw a chance to shine, and she meant to do it.
She had heard a conversation, not intended for her ears, when a lady
calling at her home had inquired for the little daughter of the house.
"Oh, Gwen is really a wonderful child," Mrs. Harcourt had said, "and
while she has a positive talent for reciting fine poetry, her
compositions are _so_ original that they are really _startling_!"
"Oh, really!" the lady had replied, in a manner that showed that she
was bored.
Gwen had leaned over the baluster in the upper hall, and drank in every
word of praise that had been uttered.
The following Friday the pupils arrived with compositions that they
had prepared.
As is usual, in any such school event, some were really good, others
were neither very good, nor very bad, but all others were forgotten
when Gwen Harcourt commenced to read.
If Gwen Harcourt was vain, conceited, too much of a baby for a child
of her age, it was largely the fault of her silly mother, whose beauty,
and power to charm were great, but whose mind was exceedingly shallow.
She loved Gwen deeply, even too deeply to see any faults, and so in
her blind love, she of course, could never correct these defects that
she could not see, and that made the pretty child exceedingly
unattractive.
Her composition was a good example of what a silly child, with an even
sillier mother could do, in the way of original work, for surely the
essay was _original_.
Gwen pranced up onto the platform, made a graceful little bow, and
then, nodding to the class she said: "This really, truly happened!
E'hem!
"The Ostrich.
"The ostrich that I'm to tell about was in the Zoo in a big city where
I went once, and he must have been the biggest ostrich that anyone
ever saw.
"He was as big as a horse, and so he ought to have been called a
_hoss_trich.
"His feathers were all the colors that folks wear on their hats,--"
She paused to note what impression she was making, and a doubting small
boy, murmured;
"Oo--o--o!"
Gwen frowned, and commenced to read again.
"The ostrich didn't look much like the big white owl in a cage near
him, because the owl had bigger eyes."
A few of the pupils giggled, and one in the front row muttered.
"I don't suppose there was any difference in their _legs_!"
"The ostrich is graceful,--"
She paused again, because at this absurd statement Dick Minton laughed
aloud.
"Oh, _graceful_!" whispered Dick.
"_Richard_!" said Miss Kenyon, her voice deeply reproving.
"Well, the idea!" said Dick. "_Graceful_!"
"Gwen, tell me where you obtained these strange ideas about the
ostrich," Miss Kenyon said.
"Did you read some book about birds, or did someone tell you these
things that you have written?"
"These are _my own_ ideas," Gwen answered, proudly.
"I didn't have to read or be told what to write. Mamma says I'm a
_genius_, and she read this composition, and _she_ said it was _fine_,
so I don't care what _you_ say about it!"
"You may be seated," said the teacher, but Gwen, not heeding what she
said, rushed from the school-house, intent upon telling her mother how
very badly she had been treated.
Miss Kenyon told the pupils that they had been rude to laugh, or make
comments when another pupil was taking any part in the exercises.
They knew that, but they also knew that Gwen's composition had been
"funny."
Gwen rushed home with her composition in her hand.
Of course Mrs. Harcourt praised and comforted her.
"Absurd!" she cried. "Did she wish you to consult a dictionary? Any
_ordinary_ child could do that, but to evolve such odd ideas! Why
_that_ is genius! She is dull if she doesn't know great creative genius
when she sees it!"
"And _must_ I go to school again to-morrow?" Gwen asked.
"No, indeed!" Mrs. Harcourt said, "I shall send you, hereafter, to
private school, where your talents will be appreciated."
There was another pupil who was far more uncomfortable at school than
Gwen had ever been, and that was Gyp.
Placed in a class with children of six or seven, the awkward boy felt
ill at ease, and out of place. Yet, while they were years younger than
he, they had already spent more hours in the class room than he ever
had, and pages that they read with ease, he struggled over. He was a
true gypsy, and he loved his freedom, and the fresh air.
Now, as he sat at his desk, book in hand, he thought of his long tramps
over field and meadow, through forest and valley, and in his heart he
hated school, and the people who forced him to attend.
"What's the use?" he muttered, under his breath.
"I can catch woodchucks, and birds and squirrels," he said, softly,
"and _once_ I caught a fox, but what kin I do here? Nothing but hold
a ol' book!" A sharp command to "stop muttering, and sit still," served
to increase his wrath.
He knew that it was not the teacher who was responsible for his presence
at school, but he thought that she _wished_ him to be there, because
she insisted that he sit still, and she would not let him leave the
room.
"It was the p'liceman what _brung_ me here, but I'll bet 'twas her
_axed_ him to," he whispered, thus showing how angry were his thoughts,
and how greatly he needed the training that the teacher stood ready
to give.
His mother had not dared to keep him at home, although she needed his
help.
Gyp could not understand why she had agreed to let him go to a place
where he could neither _earn_ nor _steal_ food for the family. _He_
felt that she had not stood by him.
He dared not play truant, because he so feared the policeman who had
said that he _must_ attend school.
Poor Gyp! Ignorant, and born of ignorant parents, he believed, as they
did, that if he did not go to school, he would be sent to jail! Jail
was the only thing that Gyp thought worse than school. He considered
himself a prisoner in school, but _after four_ he was _free_, so that
jail was worse only because one could not get out of jail at all!
"If it's school or jail, I'll go to _school_!" he said.
For weeks he appeared each morning and afternoon, sullen, and unhappy.
Then something occured that made him change his mind, and his eyes
grow bright, and his heart grow lighter.
Out of all Avondale, Princess Polly was the only person who spoke
kindly to him. Wild, careless Gyp fairly worshipped the blue eyed,
golden haired little girl who always gave him a pleasant word, and a
smile.
One morning, after a heavy storm, the avenues were in fair condition,
until the pupils reached a place where they must cross to the opposite
side of the street to enter the school yard.
Gyp was not afraid of muddying his shoes, because they were so shabby
that a little mud could not make them look worse. He sat on the wall
and laughed as he saw the girls try to cross the puddle without wetting
their feet.
"Oh, look at the ducks! No, geese!" he cried, adding: "Don't be 'fraid.
Water won't hurt ye!"
After the other girls had reached the sidewalk, Princess Polly came
tripping along.
She had intended to walk to school with Rose and Sprite, but Sprite,
not quite ready, had asked Polly to go along, and she would soon be
ready, and would overtake her.
Gyp saw her coming, and stopped laughing.
"_Jiminy_!" he ejaculated. "Somebody ought ter do _suthin'_!"
A second later he cried:
"Stop! Oh, stop just a minute, will ye? I'll _fix_ that puddle!"
Polly _did_ stop.
Snatching a piece of board that chanced to be lying on the ground just
over the wall, he flew to where Polly was standing, placed his tiny
plank over the puddle, and felt the greatest pride when he saw her
walk across, her dainty shoes without a spot upon them.
"Oh, Gyp, you were nice to do that for me! Thank you, so much!" she
said.
He hardly knew what to reply, but muttering something about being "no
bother at all," he ran around to the other side of the school-house
that she might not see his confusion. One thought filled his mind. He
would go to school! Yes, he would go to school every day, so that
morning and afternoon he might be where he could see her, and do any
little favor, or offer any aid, that she might need.
Another thought soon followed. He would _work_ at his studies. He would
not be at the foot of the class.
He must work for promotion! He must catch up with pupils of his own
age, for then he would be nearer Princess Polly, and thus able to do
any little favor, or any slight service that might please her.