THE FLOWER PLAY
As the time approached for the flower play to be given attention there
was considerable anxiety on the part of those who had taken it in hand.
Ben declared that while he could do the main part of the work all right,
he must have help of the girls in certain directions. "I'm no good at
all when it comes to dialogue," he told them. "I can do the mechanical
part, get the thing into shape for the stage, give you the general plot
and all that, but you'll have to do the dialogue."
"Oh, but Ben," said Agnes, "suppose we can't."
"Then it will have to fall through."
The girls looked very sober over this; they realized that Ben was giving
them more than they had any right to expect, and they could not ask him
to give his studies second place. "Well," said Agnes rather dolefully,
"we'll have to do the best we can."
"Angels can do no more," returned Ben, "and since you are so near to
that class of beings you ought to be able to do something pretty fine."
The compliment had the effect of bringing a smile to Agnes's face and so
the matter rested for that day. However, it was a subject which could
not be allowed to rest for very long as the time was fast approaching
when the parts must be given out for the girls to study. "And there will
have to be ever so many rehearsals," said Agnes woefully to Celia as
they were talking it over together on the Conways' porch.
"We don't seem to make a bit of headway," said Celia. "What we have
written sounds so silly and flat. I'm afraid it will never be the kind
of thing we hoped for."
"Ben has a lovely little plot and all the ideas he has given us about
the scenes and the dressing of the characters and the funny situations
are mighty good," returned Agnes, "it does seem as if between us all we
ought to be able to do the rest when we have eighteen regular members in
the club and two honorary ones."
Edna who was sitting on the top step listening attentively to all this,
looked up. "Why don't you ask Miss Eloise to help you? She would love
to, and she tells such beautiful, beautiful stories, you know."
"That is a brilliant idea," returned Agnes, "but she says she can never
write them, she can only tell them."
"But couldn't she tell what to say and one of you write it down?"
Agnes looked at Celia and Celia looked at Agnes. "She has struck it, I
do believe," cried Celia.
"Edna, honey, you are a child worth knowing," said Agnes. "The idea of
your thinking of such a simple way out of the trouble when the rest of
us were fumbling around for ideas. Of course that can be done, and as
you say, I have no doubt but that Miss Eloise will be perfectly
delighted to do anything she can for the club. Where is Ben? Do hunt him
up, Edna, that's a good child."
As Edna generally knew Ben's haunts she was not long in finding him. He
was much interested in what she had to say, threw down the book he was
studying and went with her to join the girls. He was really very anxious
to please them all and would go to almost any lengths to do it.
"Ben," cried Agnes as he came up on the porch. "Isn't that a fine scheme
that Edna has thought of?"
"I should smile, and I have thought of just the stunt to get it in shape
the quickest. If one of you girls will go with me to present me to the
lady, I can take down what she says in shorthand and knock it off on the
type-writer afterward. Then we'll all get together, you two girls, Miss
Eloise and yours truly, and we'll put the whole thing into shape in
double-quick time. How does that strike you?"
"Ben, you have saved our lives. When can you go to see Miss Eloise? This
afternoon? It is Saturday and you haven't anything on hand more
important than foot-ball, have you?"
"Do not speak slightingly of my athletic sports, if you please. However,
I can forego the delights of being mauled for one afternoon, I reckon,
and am at your service, fair lady. When shall you want to start?"
"Oh, right after luncheon, I think; as early as possible so as to have a
good long afternoon. I do hope Miss Eloise is feeling fairly well
to-day."
"Miss Newman says she is better all the time nowadays, since she has so
much more to interest her," piped up Edna. "She told me yesterday that
she had not had one of those dreadful attacks for ever so long."
"Then let us hope for the best," answered Ben.
It was exactly as Edna had predicted; Miss Eloise entered into the plan
with the greatest eagerness, and when Ben had opened up his plot to her
and had showed her how he had planned the scenes she said she would take
a few minutes to think it over and then she thought she could give him
some of the needed dialogue, and before they left Ben had taken down as
much as was necessary for this first time, promising to come back for
the rest.
"I'll get this into shape and bring it with me," he told Miss Eloise.
"And we can make copies so as to give out that much for the girls to
learn," said Agnes.
They returned in high spirits, and for some time Ben's type-writing
machine was heard clicking away. The characters had already been talked
over and the principle ones given out. Ben had chosen very pretty
fantastic names for the various flowers who were to be represented.
Jennie was to be Pussy Willow; Edna, Pinky Blooms; Dorothy, Daisy White;
Agnes, Rose Wild; Celia, Violet Blue, while Ben, himself was to be the
old giant, Pine Knot, who lived in a swamp. It had been found necessary
to introduce some of the boys into the play so Charlie and Frank
Conway, Steve and Roger Porter were pressed into service. Charlie was to
be Sassy Fras; Frank, Winter Green; Steve, Cran Berry, while Roger was
to be the giant's henchman, Pine Needles.
The play was not to be for a week after school closed that they all
might have plenty of time for its preparation without interfering with
their school work. There was never very much fuss made over the closing
by Uncle Justus, so there was not that excitement. Mr. Horner did not
believe in showy commencements, and when the girls were graduated they
simply received their diplomas after a few simple exercises, and then
the school was dismissed. Therefore, the play was the great subject of
conversation among the scholars. The girls who were already in the club
were triumphantly sounding its praises to those who were not, while
those who were not in were clamoring for entrance. However, it had been
decided that no more new members would be admitted until fall, as there
was already enough heart-burning over the players and their parts. The
giving out of these had been left entirely to Miss Eloise who had chosen
as she thought best, so there was at least no one of the girls to accuse
of partiality. Margaret in the very beginning announced that her mother
did not want her to take part and that she did not care to herself, as
she was to have the fun of entertaining them all at her house, and
moreover, she "couldn't act any more than a broomstick."
Of all the girls who felt the most bitter probably Clara Adams was the
one who was chief among them. It was the greatest grievance she had ever
known, in the first place not to take part in such a thing and in the
second not even to be invited to the entertainment. Each girl in the
club was allowed to ask two persons, and each one taking part in the
play was allowed the same privilege, therefore, with her two brothers
among the characters and her sister as well, Edna was free to ask anyone
she chose. Mr. and Mrs. Horner had received an invitation from the whole
club, so had Miss Newman, and the other teachers, and many of the pupils
who were outside the charmed circle were invited by their schoolmates
who were free to give invitations, only Clara Adams was not considered
for a moment by anyone, and she was very miserable over the fact. If
ever she regretted her past disagreeable treatment of her school
fellows, it was now, but she would not have admitted this even to
herself, although in her heart of hearts she was conscious of it being
so.
"I'm not coming back here to school next year," she announced to Edna
one day. The two had little chats once in a while and, to do Clara
justice, she did her best to be pleasant whenever Edna gave her the
chance.
"Oh, aren't you? Why not?" asked Edna.
Clara was silent for a moment, then she said, quite honestly, "My father
can't afford to send me to such an expensive school. I suppose I shall
have to go to the public school." Then in a new accession of pride,
"Anyhow, father likes the public school better."
"Oh," Edna could not truthfully say she was sorry, for the fact, though
she was sorry for the girl. She told the other girls what Clara had said
and the gist of most of the responses was "Good riddance to bad
rubbish." So it did not look very favorable for an enthusiastic farewell
to poor Clara in the way of attentions to a departing friend. If anyone
thought of her at all it was Edna, and she was too busy with all her
other interests to give much regret to Clara.
It was only when her mother asked her one day, "Has anyone invited Clara
Adams to the great meeting of the club when you are to wind up the year
with such a flourish?" that her conscience began to prick her.
"Nobody has asked her," she answered, "and she is dying to come. She
isn't coming back to school next year, you know."
"Yes, I think you told me that. I feel very sorry for her. Of course,
she is not at all the kind of child I should choose for a companion for
my little girl, but I am very glad you have tried to be kind to her,
though I cannot say I regret her leaving the school you attend."
Edna was silent for a moment and so was her mother who presently asked:
"Have you given out all your invitations, dear?"
"No, mother, I still have one."
"Whom did you send the other to?"
"Miss Martin. She and her father were so nice to me at the fair you
know, but one of the other girls has invited Mr. Martin."
"I see. That was certainly a very good choice for you to make."
"I can't quite decide about the other one," Edna went on. "I want to
give it to the one who wants it most, of the two girls at school who
would love to have it."
"Is one of them Clara Adams?"
"Oh, mother, no. Nobody wants her." Then after a silence, "I suppose she
wants to come badder than anyone else, but--mother, do you think, do you
really think I ought to invite her?"
"Why, my dear, that is for you to decide."
"Oh, dear," Edna gave a long sigh. Never in her life had she been more
put to it to make up her mind. "I don't want to one bit," she declared
after a moment's thought. "All of the girls will be down on me and say I
am a silly goose and all that."
"It is probably your very last chance of doing her a kindness as she
will possibly not cross your path again," Mrs. Conway reminded her.
Edna drew a longer sigh than before. The situation was getting harder
and harder. "Mother," she said with a woebegone face, "why do the
rightest things always be the hardest ones?"
"I don't think they always are, dear child. Is this so very hard?"
"Oh, yes. I think it is the hardest thing I most ever had to do. Even
last year when those things about Louis worried me so, I didn't mind so
much, for I was really fond of Louis. He was my cousin and it seemed
more as if I ought to."
"Well, dearie, suppose you think over it a while. You can keep back your
invitation till the very last minute, you know, for if you do decide to
let Clara have it, she will be glad to accept even at the eleventh hour,
I am sure."
"Suppose she should say horrid mean things and stir up a fuss as she
does so many times, I should feel so badly."
"I don't believe she would do that because she would be enjoying herself
and would probably be on her best behavior. If you like, I will see that
she sits next to me which would be quite right if she should be your
guest, and it will not spoil my pleasure if she should make disagreeable
remarks."
Edna went over and leaned her elbows on her mother's lap, looking up in
her face and asking. "What would you say to yourself if she made
disagreeable remarks?"
"I should say, 'Never mind; I am so happy that my own darling little
girl made the sacrifice of asking her that nothing else matters much.'"
"And you wouldn't say anything to her?"
"I should, no doubt, say several things to her," replied Mrs. Conway
kissing the eager face uplifted toward hers.
Edna went over to the window and stood there a long time, but she saw
none of the things she looked out upon. She was having a sharp struggle.
Clara and her mother against all the girls in the club, that was the way
it seemed to be, but finally the former conquered and she went back to
where her mother still sat. "Mother," she said firmly, "I am going to
invite Clara. I have made up my mind. Will you please ask Agnes and
Celia to take my part?"
"My blessed child, of course I will. What sort of a Golden Rule would it
be that allowed a little girl to be chidden for carrying out its
precepts. As president of your club, Agnes will surely see that you are
acting upon its principles, and Celia, too, must see it. They must not
let their enjoyment and their love of harmony make them forget that
part."
Then Edna snuggled very close to her mother and felt comforted. "I am
not going to keep her from knowing," she said. "I'll tell her first
thing, so she can have the fun of looking forward to it." When Edna did
a thing there was no doing it by halves.
Therefore it was a surprised and delighted Clara who received her
invitation the next day, and to Edna's great satisfaction all the good
in the girl rose to the occasion. "I think you are the very sweetest
girl I ever knew, Edna Conway," she said, "and I am sorry, I really am,
that I haven't always been friends with you. I was horrid, often I was,"
and this was Edna's compensation.
Such a flutter and flurry and whispering and giggling there was on that
afternoon when everything was in readiness for the little flower play.
There was quite a large audience gathered on the smooth green lawn where
seats had been placed for them. The shrubs and flower beds with trees
beyond made a fine background for the stretch of terrace, which became a
stage for the occasion. Jennie in a fuzzy grayish brown frock with a
hood, made a dear little Pussy Willow, Edna in pink with her rosy cheeks
was the very picture of Pinky Blooms, Dorothy's golden head made a
lovely centre for Daisy White, while as for Ben, the big giant, he was
the roughest, toughest old Pine Knot one could imagine.
"If only Miss Eloise could be here to see us," said Edna as she peeped
from behind the leafy screen which hid the flower fairies from view.
Dorothy was peeping, too, and presently she exclaimed, "She is here! Oh,
Edna, she is here! See, they are bringing her now!" And sure enough,
there in her wheeled chair was Miss Eloise, her lovely face all smiles
as her sister and Mr. Ramsey pushed her chair along.
"I do believe Mrs. Ramsey brought her out," cried Edna.
"She did," Jennie told them, "I didn't tell, because I thought it would
be such a nice surprise for everybody."
A surprise it was indeed, and because of her presence, or because it is
generally so, they all did much better than at any of their rehearsals
and received such applause as quite overpowered them. Then Mr. Ramsey
raised a call for "Author! Author!" So after some little delay Ben,
still in his giant's dress, was brought around and wheeled Miss Eloise
out to the very front where she was given another round of applause and
more flowers than she could hold. She quite forgot herself in her
anxiety that Ben should receive what was due to him and all unmindful of
the large audience, she cried out, "Oh, but I did so little; it is all
Ben's plan!"
Then Ben was cheered, and in the midst of such very special
demonstrations he beat a retreat.
Clara established by Mrs. Conway's side had not a word of anything but
praise and delight, and after the little players came out to mix with
their friends she sought out Edna. "It was the loveliest thing I ever
saw," she told her, "and I do thank you for letting me come."
"She was really very decent," said the girls, looking after her as she
started for home with her mother who called for her.
Edna watched her out of sight, a feeling of pity mingled with gladness
in her heart. And so Clara Adams passed out of her life, for before
another year the entire family had moved out west, and the places which
saw Clara Adams saw her no more.
The stars were coming out before they all left Mrs. MacDonald's. The
guests had taken their departure earlier and had been as complimentary
as anyone could desire. Miss Eloise, tired but very happy, had gone off
with the Ramseys in their motor-car. Edna, Dorothy and Margaret walked
down to the gate to watch the sunset, all yellow and glowing.
"Miss Newman looked almost pretty," said Dorothy. "She had such a dear
frock on and her hair is much nicer the way she wore it to-day. I shall
feel so very different about having her for a teacher next year."
"So shall I," agreed Edna.
Moggins, Margaret's cat had sought them out and was rubbing up against
his little mistress. "Oh, you poor dear, I don't believe anyone has
thought to give you your milk," said Margaret. So she went off with the
cat in her arms.
Then "Where are you, Dorothy?" cried her sister, and Dorothy scampered
off that she might not be left behind on the homeward walk.
Edna walked slowly toward the house. Halfway up the walk she met Uncle
Justus. "I was just coming for you to walk home with me," he told her.
"Your aunt and I are going to stay all night."
"I'm glad of that," Edna replied slipping her hand into his.
They walked on toward the road, quite silent for a few moments, till
Edna looking up, said, "Uncle Justus, I think you have a perfectly
lovely school."
He smiled down at her.
"I have some perfectly lovely pupils," he answered with a smile.
THE END
* * * * *
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE
The original language, punctuation and spelling have been retained,
except where noted.
The following changes were made to the original text (the original text
is on the first line, the correction is on the following line):
23: you, do you?'
you, do you?"
27: to say. Wouldn't you like to know what
to say: Wouldn't you like to know what
34: didn't stay but came over to us." She
didn't stay but came over to us. She
55: the next time," said Agnes, and after
the next time," said Agnes, "and after
108: right away," declared Nettie, for it takes
right away," declared Nettie, "for it takes
117: "I'll wait," he said, and if you will
"I'll wait," he said, "and if you will
161: make you an honorary member, Agnes said."
make you an honorary member," Agnes said.
167: time this morning.
time this morning."
231: Miss Newman says she is better all the
"Miss Newman says she is better all the
242: precepts. As president, of your club,
precepts. As president of your club,
* * * * *
End of Project Gutenberg's A Dear Little Girl at School, by Amy E. Blanchard