AND COLLEGE NEXT
It was the third May that Rose had been in Farmdale. The turf on
the open green was emerald velvet, the orchards were drifts of pink
and white, the lilacs by Mrs. Blossom’s gate were lifting spikes of
lavender, and shrubs and roses were heavy with the weight of bud or
bloom. In a swift rush Rose came down the walk, the white gate clashed
behind her, and she dashed into the house, rosy and breathless with
haste, waving a long envelope over her head.
“What do you think that is?” she cried.
Miss Silence glanced up from her sewing machine. “It looks to me like
an envelope.”
“And what do you think is inside it?” pursued Rose.
“A letter is usually inside an envelope,” answered Mrs. Patience.
“You won’t guess,” pouted Rose, “so I shall have to tell you, for I
couldn’t possibly keep it. This is my certificate that I have passed
the teachers’ examination I went to last week, and am duly qualified to
teach. Wish me joy!”
“But I thought thee went to the examination simply for the practice,”
said Grandmother Sweet.
“So I did. But all the same I wanted to pass, and was so afraid I
wouldn’t pass. That’s why I didn’t say more about it. And now that I
have a really, truly certificate to teach! I’m sure I’ve grown an inch
since I took it out of the post-office.”
“We are very glad you succeeded,” and Mrs. Patience held off a hat to
see if the bunch of flowers was in the right place.
“And that isn’t all,” Rose went on blithely. “You need sixteen points
to graduate from the high school, I have fourteen already, because
I’ve taken extra studies; to pass the teachers’ examination counts two
points, so now I can graduate this year.”
“But why do you want to graduate this year? I supposed of course you
were going one more,” and Silence looked her surprise.
“I want to get to teaching. I’m just crazy to begin.”
“Rose, Rose,” Mrs. Blossom in the next room had heard the conversation,
and now stepped to the doorway, “you are too young to think of
teaching; even if you are qualified you have not the self-control a
teacher needs.”
“Oh, don’t say that!” groaned Rose, “when I have struggled with my
temper, and prayed over it, and counted a hundred before I spoke, and
bitten my tongue till it bled, and did all the things I ever heard of
to hold on to myself.”
“And you have done very well,” commended Mrs. Blossom. “You have
overcome much, and learned some hard lessons in the bridling of your
quick tongue, and holding in check your temper. But you have still
more to learn, especially if you are going to teach. I know, for I was
a teacher myself, and while text-books and methods change, boys and
girls, as far as I can see, remain about the same.”
“All I ask is the chance to try some boys and girls.”
“Besides,” Mrs. Blossom’s voice was calmly even, “I do not think you
can teach, that any school board would hire a girl of seventeen.”
“But I know people who have taught when no older than that,” persisted
Rose.
“That might have been once but it is not now. Indeed I am quite sure
that a law has been passed in Ohio that a teacher cannot draw pay
unless she is over eighteen.”
“It is a mean old law,” scorned Rose.
“Another thing,” continued Mrs. Blossom, “your Uncle Samuel is your
guardian, and he did not expect, any more than we did, that you would
leave school till next year; and before taking such a step you must
consult him.”
“Great-Uncle Samuel won’t care,” urged Rose, “and I’ve set my heart
on getting through this year. Besides if I can’t teach I can go to
school another year, and take Latin and German, and review the common
branches.”
“You write to Mr. Jarvis first, and see what he says,” and Rose knew
further argument was useless.
Rose waited and fretted for two weeks before an answer to her letter
came, and when she read it she gave a gasp of surprise. “What do you
think?” she exclaimed. “Great-Uncle Samuel says I have been a very
prudent girl, while from my marks—you know I have sent them to him
every quarter—I seem to have made good use of my opportunities; so if
I will continue to be prudent he thinks there will be money enough for
me to go to college for four years. This is what he writes: ‘Of course
not to a big expensive college, that would be quite beyond your means,
the Fairville Woman’s College is the one I have chosen for you. I am
told that it is an excellent school, that the location is healthy, and
the moral tone excellent. That you will make good use of its benefits
I shall expect. Of course your Aunt Sarah Hartly ought to have seen to
this for you, but as long as she wouldn’t I have done what seemed to me
the best.’”
“Four years in college, will not that be fine?” Silence Blossom’s own
eyes were bright with pleasure.
“Yes, I suppose it will,” Rose spoke slowly. “But, you know, I never
had thought of such a thing as college being possible for me; I did not
think that there was money enough for that. Of course I shall like it,
the only thing is it will make me so old before I get to teaching.”
The older women looked at Rose’s face, that had never lost its child
expression, and laughed at her words.
“It may be though,” she went on, “that I can put in extra studies and
shorten the time.”
“No, no,” protested Mrs. Patience, “to do your best work you do not
want to hurry it.”
Grandmother Sweet stopped her knitting. “Rose, my husband while a lad
served five years as apprentice to a carpenter. His own work was of the
best, and he often said that time spent learning to use one’s tools was
time saved. Now, thee is planning to use books as tools, and the better
thee understands them the better work thee will do.”
“Oh, of course,” Rose hastened to say, “now the chance has come to me
I wouldn’t miss it for anything. And I will make the best of it, too.
I’m going to send right away and get a prospectus of the college to see
what the entrance requirements are. I’m not going to be conditioned,
and I’d rather be a little ahead. I had planned anyway to read Virgil
this summer with Mr. Fifield, and I can study up whatever else is
needed.”
“I think if you are going to college this fall you will need to do some
sewing as well as studying,” suggested Miss Silence.
“Of course I shall. I know I can’t spend money for a great deal; what
I do have I want neat and in good shape. I’m so glad to know about it
now, for I can plan the dresses I will need when I graduate from the
high school so I can use them then.”
“How many will you need?” asked Silence Blossom.
“The other girls say three; a suit for the Baccalaureate sermon,
another for the senior reception, and the graduating dress.”
“That last will be white, and will answer for your best white dress all
the year, and if you get a pretty grey for your suit that will do for
fall wear.”
“That makes two new dresses,” reflected Rose. “I can’t afford any
more, and one other still to be evolved. I wish the waist wasn’t so
badly worn to the lavender and white striped silk Great-Aunt Sarah sent
in the last box; it would make a pretty dress, and I could mend up the
cream lace to trim it.”
Before Rose had ceased speaking Miss Silence was turning the leaves of
a fashion book. “There is a dress in this last number that I believe we
can copy, and use the purple silk she sent you once to combine with it.
The solid color will give it character, and the lace will soften and
keep it girlish.”
Rose was looking at the plate. “Yes, that will be pretty. You are the
very Wizard of Old Clothes. And if there are scraps enough of silk and
lace left I will make a little hat with purple violets for trimming to
wear with it.”
She paused and lifted an impressive finger. “But mind this, when I get
to earning for myself I will have some pretty dresses, and never will I
wear any more of Great-Aunt Sarah’s cast-offs!”
Mrs. Patience smiled indulgently. “You are young, Rose, it is only
natural you should feel so. But you know you are denying yourself now
so that day may come.”
“I know it,” Rose nodded. “When I have had to go without things I
wanted and that other girls did have, I’ve said, ‘Never mind, you are
having an education.’ I expect to have to say that pretty often when I
get to college—it’s hard to realize that I am going—but I’m not going
to forget that I’m working for a purpose.”
“And that’s better than fine clothes.”
Rose twisted her face. “I wouldn’t object to the fine clothes if I
could have them. But I suppose I shall need some dresses for everyday
wear; the blue dress I had last year will do for that, won’t it?”
“Yes, and there is your green and red plaid. You can have some separate
waists, too. I’m sure, Rose, we can have your wardrobe in shape, that
if not fine, it will be neat and tasty.”
“What could I ever have done without you all?” Rose paused and sighed.
“I am glad that I can go to college. I shall be gladder the longer I
realize it. But I feel that it will just break my heart to leave here.
If I could only take you all with me or bring the college to Farmdale.”
“We are glad that you can go to college, Rose,” Mrs. Blossom’s voice
had not quite its usual firmness, “but you may be sure of one thing,
we shall miss you more than you will us. But it is a long time till
September; we will not begin the parting yet.”
“And of course I shall come back in vacations; everybody goes home
then, and this is my home.”
“Do you think a college freshman will remember how to gather eggs?”
asked Mrs. Patience.
“This one will, you may be sure,” laughed Rose, “and how to make
omelet, and custard, and cake with them when they are gathered. It’s
a pity Great-Uncle Samuel never comes so I can show him how you have
taught me to cook.”
It was a busy summer for Rose; she went over all the studies in which
she would be examined for entrance to college, she sewed and gathered
and tucked and hemmed, and when the September days came she packed
her modest wardrobe in her new trunk with a curious mingling of dread
and delight; dread at leaving the life she knew, the friends she had
proved; delight in the new and wider world opening before her.
There had been talk of Mrs. Patience going with Rose, but it had not
proved possible, so when one sunny September day the stage—the same
stage that had brought her to Farmdale, stopped at the white gate,
and her trunk was strapped on, with a mixture of tears and smiles the
good-bys were said, and Rose settled herself in the same corner of the
back seat she had occupied on that day which now seemed so far, far in
the past, no longer a forlorn little figure, dingy, travel worn and
friendless; but a trim young girl in a pretty grey suit, leaning out
and waving her handkerchief in answer to those waved to her from nearly
every house. For Rose’s friends included almost every one in Farmdale,
and all her friends were interested in her start for college.
THE END