the window watching the yard. It was a picture to make any little
girl--or big girl either--look long. The yard was gayly decorated with
lanterns and streamers, and chairs set about invited folks to be
comfortable while they visited or listened to the band. The walks and
open spaces were thronged with well-dressed people all eager and happy
and having a beautiful time. The frequent sight of a student in cap and
gown, or, less often, in the red garb of marshal, made Mary Jane feel as
though it was all a great play, and she was thrilled to think that
she--Mary Jane--only six years old and living way off in Chicago--was
there seeing it all. There were lots of men and lots of women but she
hadn't yet seen a single girl as young as herself.
"I must remember every bit of it so's to tell it to Daddah," she said to
herself, as a group of students and alumni went by singing, "I must
remember it all."
But of course a person couldn't remember it _all_--for something was
happening every minute! The exercises in Sander's Theatre for which,
thanks to Uncle Hal's many friends, they all had seats; lunch at the
"Dickey," one of Uncle Hal's clubs, and the procession to the Stadium.
Much to Mary Jane's amazement, this procession was led by _old_ men--men
as old as her grandfather.
"Why, do they go to Harvard, Mother?" she asked as the old men marched
by.
"Not now, dear," answered Mrs. Merrill, "they went there years ago--oh,
long ago."
"Then what are they in Uncle Hal's Class Day for?" asked Mary Jane.
"They've come back for their re-union," explained Mrs. Merrill. "They
come back in three years and ten years and twenty-five years I think it
is--you must ask Uncle Hal to be sure, and their class has a regular
get-together party. Then of course they come other times, whenever they
can."
"They look as though they liked to come back," observed Mary Jane.
"They surely do," agreed Mrs. Merrill.
"I think that's fine," decided Mary Jane, "I should think it would be
fun to march and shout and everything like that, after you'd been a
grown-up man and had to behave so much."
At the tag-end of the procession, the onlookers fell in line and hurried
over to the Stadium where the exercises were held. Mary Jane was
thrilled by the sight of the great cement building, open to the blue sky
and thronged with happy-looking people.
"I like it, Mother," she whispered as they found their seats, "I like it
a lot, 'cause everything's so pretty and it makes you feel so good."
After the exercises were over the crowd scattered to the various club
houses for tea. Uncle Hal took his party first to the D.U. house where
they met some of his friends, and had lobster salad and sandwiches and
cake and ice cream and tea.
"Better not eat too much," he advised as he saw Mary Jane reach for a
third sandwich.
"Haven't they made enough?" asked Mary Jane.
"Look at the piles on the table," laughed Uncle Hal, "no, I guess they
have enough, but you've just begun. You see, we have to make the rounds
of several houses and you have to eat something at every place."
"Don't you worry about us," observed Alice, consolingly, "we can always
eat at every place, and every time."
"All right then, go ahead, ladies," laughed Uncle Hal. "Bill, pass the
food to my starving family!" And Alice and Mary Jane, both had second
helpings all around.
But by the time they had eaten lobster salad and tea and sandwiches and
ice cream and cakes at D.U., and tea and lobster salad and sandwiches
and ice cream and cakes at the "Dickey," and lobster salad and
sandwiches and tea and ice cream and cakes at the "Crimson" house, Mary
Jane began to suspect that Uncle Hal's advice about going light at first
wasn't so bad after all.
"Do they have the same things because that's all they know how to cook
or because they think that's all we like to eat?" asked Mary Jane when
she saw her plate filled with the fifth--or was it the sixth, she had
lost count--helping of salad.
"You can't prove it by me," laughed Uncle Hal, "I guess it's all just
the proper thing to have on Class Day. Don't you like it?"
"Oh, yes," replied Mary Jane, politely, "and I _used_ to like it a
_lot_."
"Maybe you're not really hungry any more," said Uncle Hal with a teasing
twinkle in his eye, "if you can stand it not to eat for a while suppose
we dance."
He brought up one of his friends, Lawrence Echart, to talk to Mary Jane
and danced off with Alice.
"Have you a little sister about my size?" asked Mary of the college man
she was left with.
"No, I haven't," he replied.
"I thought not," said Mary Jane.
"Now what made you think that?" asked Hal's friend with real curiosity.
"'Cause you talk to me like I was a real grown-up lady," explained Mary
Jane. "When they've got a little sister like me they just bow when
Uncle Hal brings 'em up and they say 'what grade are you in in school?'
and then before I can answer they start talking to somebody else. But
when they haven't any little sister, they talk to me like I was a real
grown-up lady--well, anyway, as though I was as big as Alice."
"That's funny," laughed Mr. Echart, "what would you say if I asked you
to dance with me--like a real lady?"
"I'd say thank you, yes I will," replied Mary Jane demurely, and much to
her partner's surprise she danced off every bit as well as he could.
Now usually Mary Jane loved to dance; she and Alice often danced
together and both enjoyed it and did it well. And to-day should have
been perfect for the music was good and the floors excellent. But they
hadn't taken a dozen steps before sharp twinges of pain shot through her
left heel and she felt as though she couldn't stand it another minute.
"Tired?" asked Mr. Echart, as he noticed that something was wrong.
"Anything you'd rather do than dance?"
"Yes," replied Mary Jane with a sudden burst of feeling, "I'd rather
take off my shoe! Do they have any place where folks take off their
shoes on Class Day?"
"Well," said her partner, "I can't say that they prepare for it as a
regular part of the program, but it might be done."
"Then let's do it right away," said Mary Jane miserably.
She hobbled down the stairs after her partner and into a small office on
the left. There was a great table in the center of the room, and pulled
up to it was a huge, comfortable chair.
"How will that do?" asked Mr. Echart.
"Any chair would _do_," answered Mary Jane, "but that one is lovely!"
"Well, you sit down there, young lady," he added, "and I'll take off
that shoe."
"Oh, that feels good," she sighed with relief as the offending shoe came
off and she settled back in comfort in the great chair.
[Illustration: She sighed with relief as the offending shoe came off.]
"Where did it hurt?" asked Mr. Echart.
"Right there," said Mary Jane, pointing to the back of the heel.
"That's easy," said Mr. Echart, "it's just too stiff and likely as not
has made a blister. You just wait till I put in a pad of soft tissue
paper and you'll see how much better it will feel."
At that minute the music stopped and Alice and Uncle Hal appeared at the
door of the room.
"You don't mean to say," demanded Hal, "that you are letting my niece
sit in the president's chair--the sacred chair of the president of the
Crimson?"
"You didn't think you were going to keep it yourself, did you?" laughed
Lawrence, "I must say Mary Jane looks every bit as well in it as you
did!"
"But what are you doing?" asked Hal.
"Going into the boot and shoe business--repairing department," announced
Lawrence. "And if I don't get the job I want on the Boston _Transcript_,
I'm going to open a shop of my own. How's that feel, now?" he added as
he slipped the shoe back on.
Mary Jane set her foot gingerly onto the floor. Then, as it didn't
hurt, she pressed, harder and harder.
"It's all right," she said with great relief, "my, but you know a lot
and I'm so much obliged!"
"You're entirely welcome," said Mr. Echart smilingly, "we do find a
college education useful sometimes," he added teasingly, "even if it's
only for stuffing copy paper into young ladies' shoes. Now where do we
go from here?"
"Back to the yard for the music and lights," said Hal, and back to the
yard they all went and found themselves chairs where they could hear the
singing and watch the beautiful picture made by the throngs of people,
the gay lights and the gleaming fountain.
*WINNING THE GAME*
How Class Day ended and how she got into her own room in the hotel, Mary
Jane never in the world could have told you. She had a hazy
recollection of singing, and lights, and crowds of people passing and
re-passing; of more singing, and more lights, flashing through water and
of people stopping to talk to her mother and Uncle Hal and their
friends; of Mr. Echart inquiring about her shoe, and of Uncle Hal
slipping on the black pumps that he must have gone to his room to get,
and putting the white ones in his pocket. And then, later, of being
picked up and carried to a taxi and of dozing comfortably against her
mother during a long ride. But more than that she didn't know.
And now the sun was shining and her mother was standing at the side of
the bed, dressed and ready to go and asking if Mary Jane was ever going
to wake up.
"Is it all over?" asked Mary Jane sleepily, "Class Day and everything
all over?"
"Class Day is over," replied Mrs. Merrill, "but everything isn't. Don't
you remember that to-day is the game, the baseball game between Harvard
and Yale?"
"Oh, yes," said Mary Jane sitting up in bed and wide awake at once,
"it's the game Harvard wins and we see 'em do it."
"You certainly are loyal enough to suit even your Uncle Hal!" exclaimed
Mrs. Merrill laughingly. "He never will forget how you told everyone
within hearing that you were going to Harvard when you grew up."
"Did I really, Mother?" cried Mary Jane in dismay, "when?" She forgot
all about being sleepy and sat straight up in bed.
"Yes, my dear, you did," replied Mrs. Merrill. "When Hal was trying to
wake you up enough to get you into the taxi you said you didn't want to
leave Harvard and that you were going to be president of the Crimson
like Uncle Hal. And then, when he told you that you were too young, you
announced that you were coming when you grew up."
"Well, anyway, Mother," interrupted Alice anxious to comfort her sister,
"we _are_ coming to Wellesley, you know, that's all settled and
Wellesley is _almost_ Harvard."
"Don't you worry!" laughed Mrs. Merrill, "Uncle Hal wasn't bothered. He
was so proud to have you like it all and so pleased the way you met all
his friends, that he liked to have you want to come--you just ask him
to-day and you'll see.
"Now," she continued briskly, "I know you're sleepy, but you hurry up
and jump into the tub. I have the water ready, and then when you're
through, you'll find a lovely surprise."
"Do I know, Mother?" asked Alice.
"No," replied Mrs. Merrill, "and you never in the world could guess, so
don't try. While Mary Jane tubs, I'll brush and braid your hair and by
that time the surprise will be coming and you'll be ready for it. And
don't hurry _too_ fast, Mary Jane," she added, "you want to scrub as
well as tub, you know."
It was a good thing she gave that warning, for even with a warning Mary
Jane hurried so furiously fast that there was no time wasted over
details. But she felt fresh and clean anyway and was wide awake and
glowing from her rub.
"Now where's the surprise?" she asked.
"Slip into the bathroom again both of you--scoot!" and at that minute
there was a loud knock on the door.
"Now whatever do you suppose--" wondered Alice as she heard her mother
open the door of the room and talk to someone.
They had not long to wait--fortunately. A couple of minutes and Mrs.
Merrill opened the bathroom door and--what do you suppose they saw?
Drawn up near the windows that overlooked Copley Square was a cunning
little table and on the table was--you never would guess--breakfast for
three! Strawberries and cream and cereal and milk and eggs and toast
and hashed brown potatoes--the hot things all on silver dishes and
covered with big silver covers to keep them nice and hot while the fruit
and cereal were being eaten.
"Mother!" exclaimed Mary Jane, and then she stopped for she couldn't
think of anything to say.
"How'd you ever think of it?" asked Alice.
"I didn't," answered Mrs. Merrill, and the girls saw that she was as
pleased as they were with the idea. "Hal thought of it. When he
brought us up last night he suggested that maybe we'd be tired this
morning and that we shouldn't hurry. He said he'd order it as he went
away and that I should ring when we were ready and they'd bring it up."
"And you did, and _they_ did," added Mary Jane, not very intelligently
to be sure, but they all knew what she meant.
"How did he know what to order?" asked Alice as she took the first
luscious bit of strawberry.
"I guess he just ordered what he saw you liked yesterday, which was a
very good way to do," said Mrs. Merrill. "Now while we eat, let's plan
what to do to-day."
"When is the game?" asked Alice.
"Not till afternoon," replied Mrs. Merrill. "I thought maybe this
morning would be a good time to take that ride through Boston that we
didn't get on Monday--that won't tire us, and anyway, we'll just be
sitting at the game, it won't be a lot of walking like yesterday."
"And I won't wear white shoes, will I?" asked Mary Jane with a pang of
recollection.
"You poor child!" cried Mrs. Merrill, "as soon as we get through
breakfast I must see about those shoes and your foot! I can't see why
they should have given so much trouble when they seemed all right."
"I guess they're all right now," said Mary Jane, "but when are we going
to ride on the swan boats? Uncle Hal said I could ride every day and we
didn't even go there yesterday!"
"I thought we had enough to do yesterday as it was," laughed Mrs.
Merrill. "Let's see, we might go there at the end of our ride. We are
having such a late breakfast too that we won't want much lunch--would
that be all right?"
Breakfast over, Alice finished dressing while Mary Jane had her hair
brushed and the big ribbon tied on; then she finished dressing while her
mother and Alice got out hats and tidied the room ready to go. Mary
Jane would have loved to linger all morning at the window, for the comfy
chairs felt so good and there was always something interesting to watch
in the Square below. But when one goes to Boston, they don't seem to
expect to sit in chairs at windows; they seem to hurry around and see
something every minute--Mary Jane had discovered that.
They went nearly halfway around the Square, leaving Mary Jane's shoes at
a little basement shop they were referred to on the way, and then they
got into a great blue automobile that took folks around the city. Mary
Jane tried to remember everything they saw, for she could tell that when
she grew up big like Alice and was in eighth grade as Alice was, she too
would want to know all about the historical sights they were seeing.
Alice seemed to know all about the Old South Church, the Boston Navy
Yard, the first court house and the funny, narrow winding streets. For
her part, Mary Jane liked the Navy Yard best, for there they got out of
the car and saw many sorts of government boats. Also they had the fun of
going all over the old ship _Constitution_--a famous boat of long ago.
Mary Jane thought the funny little cannon they used in those days looked
very queer compared with the great big guns they could see on the boats
in use now--they looked like toy cannon ready for a boy's Fourth of
July!
Back in the big auto again they drove through the tenement district, and
there Mary Jane held her breath many a time for the streets were so
_very_ narrow, the buildings so high and close, and the ragged, hungry
looking children ran across the streets in a reckless way that
frightened Mary Jane nearly to death. She was glad when they left that
part of the city and drove to see Bunker Hill Monument.
It seemed a very small monument to make such a fuss about, but Mrs.
Merrill explained that monuments are important not for their size but
for what they celebrate.
"It does seem too bad, though," said Mary Jane thoughtfully as they
turned away to go back to the car, "that the battle of Bunker Hill
couldn't have been where those poor children want to play! Here's a
lovely park and there, why, there isn't anything but a narrow street!
When I grow up, I'm going to have a park for everybody--that's the way
things ought to be."
Mrs. Merrill had the driver let them out at the entrance to the Commons
instead of Copley Square, and they walked over to the lagoon to take the
ride in the swan boats.
"I think this is the nicest thing to do!" exclaimed Mary Jane happily as
the boat slowly paddled away from the tiny dock. "I feel so grand and
story-book-y!"
"Do you suppose we could ever come here and just ride and ride and
ride?" she added, "I'd just love to ride all day!"
"Let me see," said Mrs. Merrill thoughtfully, "I'm afraid we couldn't
ride all day, dear, but we might come again after the game this
afternoon and get two or three rides. You know a friend of Uncle Hal's
is going to take us on a drive to-morrow and there's something planned
for every single day."
"Well, then," said Mary Jane, "let's come whenever we can--and oh, I do
just love it, I do!"
After a hurried bit of primping at their room the Merrills took the
subway to Cambridge where they met Uncle Hal and went to the game.
Crowds of gayly-dressed people were all hurrying the same way, bands
were playing and colors flying, and Mary Jane got so thrilled that for a
while she forgot all about the swan boats. Hal had not been able to get
seats all together--one rarely could, he explained; so it was decided
that Alice, who was looking (and feeling) very grown-up with her striped
sport skirt, blue smock and white sport hat, should sit a few rows away
with Lawrence Echart, while Hal and Mrs. Merrill and Mary Jane should
sit together.
Alice's seat was halfway down in the middle of the stand and the others
were up on the very top row. At first Mary Jane was very frightened;
she couldn't stand up, she couldn't look around, for right there behind
her was the end of the grandstand and the long, long way down to the
ground--straight down. But gradually she got more used to it and she
peeked around just a wee, tiny bit.
And there, right in the next row, was a boy about her own age shouting
for--Yale!
"Why!" exclaimed Mary Jane in amazement, "he wants Yale to beat!"
"Some people do!" laughed Hal, much amused.
"But _Yale_!" exclaimed Mary Jane, "why--why--I thought _everybody_ went
to Harvard!"
The folks around her couldn't help but hear and they couldn't help being
amused at her frankness. One kindly-looking gentleman just in front
turned around and said, "Yes, my dear, folks _do_ go to Yale--I did it
myself." And everyone laughed.
Usually Mary Jane was very quiet, but the bands and flying colors and
crowds of people must have excited her, for she suddenly forgot all
about the long distance to the ground--just behind; she grabbed her
mother's hand and climbed up on the bench; she waved her crimson banner
high over her head and shouted at the top of her small voice, "I'm for
Harvard! I want Harvard to win!"
And sure enough, Harvard did.
*THE ADVENTURE BY THE LAGOON*
"Do you think you two girls will be all right here while Hal and I sit
over there and visit awhile?" asked Mrs. Merrill.
It was the late afternoon of the game and the Merrills, with Hal, had
driven in to Boston with some friends of Hal's and now were sitting in
the Commons trying to keep the promise to Mary Jane to let her ride all
she wished in the swan boats.
It seemed a hopeless promise to keep though, for no sooner had they
taken one ride than Mary Jane was ready for another, and another and
another. Finally Mrs. Merrill suggested that as she and Hal had many
things to talk about, they might sit at the side of the lagoon and let
the two girls ride by themselves; Alice was old enough to make such a
plan perfectly safe and anyway there was no danger, for Mary Jane was
big enough to look after herself on the boat.
"Surely!" said Alice replying to her mother's question, "you sit right
over there and we'll be safe as safe can be."
"And if we run out of money for rides," added practical Mary Jane,
"we'll come and tell you."
"I'll save you the trouble," said Uncle Hal, "I'll buy a bunch of
tickets that you never can use up!" And much to Mary Jane's delight, he
went over to the window where the tickets were sold and bought fifty
cents' worth--ten whole rides--five for each girl.
"Thank you ever so much, Uncle Hal," said Mary Jane gratefully, "and if
you change your mind and want to ride, I'll let you have one of my
tickets," she promised as he handed her five all for herself.
"Yes," added Alice, "and if mother wants to ride again, I'll let her
have one of mine."
"Thanks awfully, ladies," said Hal laughing, "but I think sister and I
will enjoy the talking every bit as much as you enjoy the riding, so
everybody will be happy."
Mary Jane thought she never, never, never had had such a blissful time!
The sun, halfway down in the west, was just warm enough; a soft June
breeze blew the lagoon into tiny ripples and made the air cool and
comfortable after the warm day; flowers blooming on the bank filled the
air with dainty fragrance and, best of all, there were those magic
boats--and five tickets all her own. She and Alice picked out the front
seat in the boat they thought the prettiest and there they sat. They
didn't even trouble to get off when one ride was over; they simply sat
still while the two or three other passengers stepped off at the dock
and two or three other passengers stepped on, and then off the boat went
again on its slow, stately journey around the little lake.
But at the end of the third ride they noticed some talking at the side
of the dock furtherest away from where Mrs. Merrill and Hal were
sitting, and Alice stood up to see what was the matter.
"Look at that child!" exclaimed Alice. "Look, Mary Jane, at what she's
doing! She's trying to make her doll sit on the edge of the dock, and
anybody would know a doll couldn't do that!"
Evidently everyone around there except the little lady herself was of
the same opinion as Alice, for the other children were trying to tell
her that the doll couldn't sit there; that she would fall in surely,
surely, if such a thing was attempted.
"And it's such a pretty doll too," worried Mary Jane. "Come on, Alice,
let's get off and tell her not to do it. Maybe she'll mind us 'cause
she doesn't know us."
But they were too late. Just as they stepped off the swan boat ready to
hurry over to the end of the dock where the children were, the little
lady succeeded in getting the doll set stiff and straight at the very
edge of the dock. For a breathless instant the doll sat there. Then,
so quickly nobody could reach out a hand or do a thing, the
prettily-dressed doll tumbled over on its face--splash!--into the
lagoon.
For an instant the children all stood motionless in amazement. Then the
little mother began to cry, "My dolly's drowned! My dolly's drowned! I
didn't want my dolly to drown!"
"Then what did you sit her on the edge of the dock for?" demanded an
older boy who had tried with the others to tell her that the doll might
fall in.
"'Cause I wanted her to sit there!" retorted the girl, "that's why!"
Then with a sudden recollection of her loss, the impudence left her and
she sat down on the dock and began to cry.
"Let's call for help," suggested Mary Jane, and she looked around to see
just where her mother and uncle were sitting.
"Call nothing!" exclaimed the big boy, "do you want to get us all run
in? Ain't you got no sense?"
Mary Jane looked at him in amazement. What was "run in" and why not call
for help when a beautiful doll was drowned?
Alice, too, was surprised at the boy's attitude but being his own age
she wasn't backward about asking for an explanation.
"Why not call for help?" she demanded. "How are you going to get the
doll out?"
"Don't you worry about that," he said tartly, and then, more politely,
he explained, "the park cop told us not to stay close by the water, and
here she went and let her doll fall in and if we holler he'll hear sure
as shooting and come and order us on. You just stop crying now," he
said to the little mother who, frightened by his order to keep still was
crying softly to herself, "we'll get her out for you--you just wait!"
"Is she your sister?" asked Alice.
"Sister--nothing!" replied the boy, "think my sister would have such a
fine doll? That's my sister," he added, jerking his thumb toward a
ragged little girl on the edge of the group, "my sister ain't got no
doll--but she ain't a cry baby either!" he added.