THE PRIZE AWARDED.
A whole year had passed since Mr. Bellamy had made the memorable
address to the Coventry school in which he offered a prize of three
hundred dollars to the most deserving.
He had come from England, as the whole school knew by his telegram to
Mrs. Abbott, but business detained him in New York for a few days, as
they also learned from the same source.
Now he had come and for hours had been shut in the parlor with
Mrs. Abbott, Elfie, and Candace, hearing, the girls all supposed,
the history of that year which had brought danger and such blessed
deliverance from it to his grandchild. There was very little to do but
to wait, for, foreseeing the occupation of her time to-day, Mrs. Abbott
had yesterday read the reports, given the averages, made her “little
preach,” and attended to all the few ceremonies of school closing.
“‘They also serve who only stand and wait,’ I have understood,” said
Lily, “but I don’t believe I like to be a server.”
“‘To wait is to conquer,’” quoted Katie from the commonplace book.
“Conquer what, I wonder?” asked Lily. “Not the prize, for all of us are
waiting, and there is only one prize.”
“What do you think you conquer by waiting, Marion?” asked Miss Blake
of the girl, who had been showing no impatience, but busied herself
working on a new strip of her favorite fan-pattern lace.
“I suppose,” said Marion, thoughtfully, “by exercising patience we
conquer our own restless spirits.”
“Now, Marion,” said Lily, in a despairing tone, “you’re going to turn
goody-goody, I know you are! You’ll live to be a female exhorter or
something horrid of that sort if you get off such solemn sentences as
that! Extemporate in your callow youth! just think of it! But reflect
on what you’re giving up, for, though I love you to distraction now, my
affection is not proof against preaching; so don’t, I beseech you, show
symptoms of it!”
For answer Marion fired a big air-filled ball of Elfie’s at her as a
convincing proof that she was not utterly given over to solemnity,
and, Lily gayly returning the throw, the two were soon so deeply
engaged in a riotous game that Mr. Bellamy stood smiling at them in the
door for some minutes before they saw him.
The general confusion which was allowable because school had virtually
closed the day before being instantly quieted, Mr. Bellamy took his
place on the platform, and, looking kindly down on the bright young
faces upturned to him, said:
“You will remember me, I think, and give me credit for keeping my
engagement. It is just one year since I spoke to you before and offered
a prize in memory of my daughter.”
Here he laid upon the table a long envelope.
“This,” he said, “contains a check for three hundred dollars, with a
blank yet to be filled in. What name is to fill the blank is indicated
by the words upon the envelope, ‘For the most deserving,’ and who that
title describes I am going to leave you to decide. My little Elfie will
hand you each a slip of paper upon which I beg you to write the name of
the one whom you individually think most worthy of the prize according
to your own estimation of the word ‘deserving.’”
Elfie skipped around with the slips of paper, and after ten minutes,
which were spent by her grandfather and Mrs. Abbott in earnest,
low-toned conversation, she re-gathered the paper slips in a little
covered basket, each girl folding her paper so that the writing was
concealed.
“Now write one for Elfie and one for Candace,” said the child, “’cause
we can’t write and we both want the same girl to get the money.”
It was not easy to make her understand that none but pupils were
allowed a vote, and she was so far from being convinced that she
slipped two papers in with the others upon which she had scribbled
some hieroglyphics which she understood herself if no one else could.
There were thirty papers to examine, for the ten day-scholars were also
included in the competition. Upon examination twenty-two were found to
bear the name of Marion Stubbs!
Her face was scarlet as she went up at a sign from Mrs. Abbott to
receive the envelope, Mr. Bellamy having put her name on the check.
It was in her mind to tell him that she did not feel deserving of
such good fortune; for, aside from the pleasure of being chosen by
the majority of her school mates, the money meant more to Marion than
it would to any other girl in the school. It meant added comforts for
the delicate mother and the little brothers and sisters, and some
independence of feeling in regard to her own clothes, which through the
year had been provided by Mrs. Abbott. She longed to say something of
her pleasure and gratitude, but not one word would her trembling lips
utter, and Elfie’s “Don’t cry, Marion,” as she threw her arms around
her, broke down her composure, and with the child in her arms she ran
out of the room, slowly followed by Candace, whose dark face was lit
up with profound satisfaction. In fact, Candace’s delight led her into
unusual irregularity of conduct, for, turning as she was leaving the
room, she said:
“I think dem young ladies is de right sort dis term, an’ ole mammy, she
tanks dem from de bottom of her heart.”
Then, with a dignity that would have become the queen whose name she
bore, old Candace bowed low and followed her darling.
“And now,” said Mrs. Abbott, “I will read you, with her permission, a
letter that Marion received to-day. I hope it will give you as much
pleasure as it has given me:
“‘DEAR MARION: I think you will be surprised to get a
letter from me after the bad treatment I gave you, but I have
been very sick in Rome, and for a long time the doctors gave my
mother no hope that I would live. I have had a long time to think
about every thing since I have been slowly getting better, and
every thing looks very different to me. One night when I was very
sick I thought I saw you crying all alone in your room because
I had made fun of you and been so unkind, and I dreamed little
Elfie was hanging over a deep pit and I was holding her from
falling, but I could not pull her out because I had not asked you
to forgive me for my bad treatment. That dream came back to me
night after night; it was terrible, for I was always so afraid I
should let Elfie drop. The cold perspiration used to break out
all over me and I would wake screaming. Then I would wish, O, so
hard, that I could ask your forgiveness; and now I am writing
this letter a little at a time, for I am very weak, to ask you if
you can ever forgive me. I have told my mother all about Elfie,
and how it was my fault, and how you saved her; and though she
tried not to have me blame myself so much I know she feels very
sorry I was so bad, for mamma seems very different since I was so
sick--ever so much nicer--and she has written to Tiffany, in New
York, to have them send you a watch and chain just like mine.
“‘Dear Marion, will you say you forgive me?
“‘Your friend, if you will have her,
“‘EDNA.’”
Most of the girls were crying when the letter was finished, for there
were few who had not helped to make Marion’s life among them very
miserable when she was a new scholar, and loving her as they did now it
was a very bitter memory.
To a story that is told should there be any thing more added? From
a critical point of view after “lastly” there should be no “in
conclusion;” but the readers who have been interested in Marion will be
glad to hear that Mr. Bellamy, whose gratitude was as unbounded as his
means were ample, seeing the love his grandchild bore to her, legally
adopted Marion and provided a yearly income for her mother, so that it
was no longer necessary for her to look forward to teaching as a means
for supporting them.
To be Elfie’s elder sister, her loving guide and steadfast friend, is
Marion Bellamy’s pleasure, and the traits which made her lovable are
not dimmed by the love and luxury with which she is surrounded.
Transcriber’s Note:
Spelling and spelling variations have been retained as published in the
original publication except as follows:
Page 81
demanded her assistence _changed to_
demanded her assistance
Page 101
its very obliging of her _changed to_
it’s very obliging of her
Page 115
I dont think so _changed to_
I don’t think so
Page 117
but a roystering, turbulent storm _changed to_
but a roistering, turbulent storm
Page 167
thought irrestisibly funny _changed to_
thought irresistibly funny
Page 188
speaking aloud. I do hope _changed to_
speaking aloud. “I do hope
Page 276
one for Elfie and one for Condace _changed to_
one for Elfie and one for Candace