THE STONE IN THE POOL
"Great oaks from little acorns grow." Tess Kenway, with her little,
serious effort, had no idea what she was starting for the benefit of
Mrs. Eland, and incidentally for the neglected Women's and Children's
Hospital. And this benefit was not of the unpractical character for
which Petunia Blossom was paying premiums into the treasury of the
Daughters of Miriam!
Tess' advertisement, wherever she went, of the hospital's need, called
the attention of many heretofore thoughtless people to it. Through Mr.
Stetson and Mrs. Kranz many people were reminded of the institution that
had already done such good work. They said, "It would be a shame to
close that hospital. Something ought to be done about it."
Tess Kenway's word was like a stone dropped into a placid pool. The
water stirred by the plunge of the stone spreads in wavelets in an ever
widening circle till it compasses the entire pool. So with the little
Corner House girl's earnest speech regarding the hospital's need of
funds.
Tess and Dot did not see the woman in the gray cloak again--not just
then, at least; but they thought about her a great deal, and talked
about her, too. A bag of the pippins went to the hospital by Neale
O'Neil's friendly hand, addressed to Mrs. Eland, and with the names of
the two youngest Corner House girls inside.
"I do hope she likes apples," Tess said. "I'm _so_ much obliged to her
for the sovereigns of England."
Tess wondered, too, if she should take some of the apples to school that
first day of the fall term to present to Miss Pepperill. Dot took _her_
teacher some. Dot was to have the same teacher this term that she had
had the last. Tess finally decided that the sharp and red-haired Miss
Pepperill might think that she, Tess, was trying to bribe her to forget
the sovereigns of England.
"And I am quite sure I know them perfectly. That is, if she doesn't fuss
me too much when she asks the question," Tess said to Ruth, with whom
she discussed the point. "I won't take her the apples, I guess, until
after I have recited the sovereigns."
Despite the declaration that she had learned perfectly the rhyme Mrs.
Eland had written out for her, Tess Kenway went into school that first
day of the term feeling very sober indeed. Many of the girls in her
class looked sober, too. Pupils who had graduated from Miss Pepperill's
class had reported the red-haired lady as being "awfully strict."
Indeed, before the scholars were quite settled at their desks, they had
a proof of Miss Pepperill's discipline. Some of the boys in Tess' class
had reputations to maintain (or thought they had) for "not bein' scart
of teacher." Sammy Pinkney often boasted to wondering and wide-eyed
little girls that "no old teacher could make him a fraid cat."
"What's your name--you with the black hair and warts on your hands?"
demanded the new teacher, sharply and suddenly.
She pointed directly at the grinning and inattentive Sammy. There was no
mistaking Miss Pepperill's meaning and some of the other boys giggled,
for Sammy did have warts on his grimy little paws.
"What's your name?" repeated the teacher, with rising inflection.
"Sam--Sam Pinkney," replied Sammy, just a little startled, but trying to
appear brave.
"Stand up when you reply to a question!" snapped Miss Pepperill.
Sammy stumbled to his feet.
"Now! What is your name? Again."
"Sam Pinkney."
"Sam-u-e-l?"
"Well--that's 'Sam,' ain't it?" drawled the boy, gaining courage.
But he never spoke so again when Miss Pepperill addressed him. That
woman strode down the aisle to Sammy's seat, seized the cringing boy by
the lobe of his right ear, and marched him up to her desk. There she
sat him down "in the seat of penitence" beside her own chair, saying:
"I'll attend to your case later, young man. Evidently the long vacation
has done you no good. You have forgotten how to speak to your teacher."
The girls were much disturbed by this manifestation of the new teacher's
sternness. Sadie Goronofsky whispered to Tess:
"Oh! don't she get excited easy?"
The whites of Alfredia Blossom's eyes were fairly enlarged by her
surprise and terror at this proceeding on the new teacher's part. After
that, Alfredia jumped every time Miss Pepperill spoke.
Miss Pepperill noted none of this cringing terror on the part of her new
pupils. Or else she was used to it. She marched up and down the aisles,
seating and reseating the pupils until she had them arranged to her
satisfaction, and suddenly she pounced on Tess.
"Ah!" she said, stopping before the Corner House girl's desk. "You are
Theresa Kenway?"
Tess arose before replying. "Yes, ma'am," she said.
"Ah! Didn't I give you a question to answer this first day?"
"Yes, ma'am," replied Tess, trying to speak calmly.
Miss Pepperill evidently expected to find Tess at fault. "What was the
question, Theresa?" she asked.
"You told me to be prepared to recite for you the succession of the
sovereigns of England."
"Well, are you prepared?" snapped Miss Pepperill.
"Yes, ma'am," Tess said waveringly. "I learned them in a rhyme, Miss
Pepperill. It was the only way I could remember them all--and in the
proper succession. May I recite them that way?"
"Let me hear the rhyme," commanded the teacher.
Tess began in a shaking voice, but as she progressed she gained
confidence in the sound of her own voice, and, knowing the rhyme
perfectly, she came through the ordeal well.
"Who taught you that, Theresa?" demanded Miss Pepperill, not unkindly.
"Mrs. Eland wrote it down for me. She said she learned it so when she
was a little girl. At least, all but the last four lines. She said
_they_ were 'riginal."
"Ah! I should say they were," said Miss Pepperill. "And who is Mrs.
Eland?"
"Mrs. Eland is an awfully nice lady," Tess said eagerly, accepting the
opening the teacher unwittingly gave her. "She is matron of the Women's
and Children's Hospital, and do you _know_, they say they are going to
close the hospital because there aren't enough funds, and poor Mrs.
Eland won't have any place to go. We think it's dreadful and, Miss
Pepperill,----"
"Well, well!" interposed Miss Pepperill, with a grim smile, "that will
do now, Theresa. I have heard all about that. I fancy you must be the
little girl who is going around telling everybody about it. I heard Mr.
Marks speak this morning about the needs of the Women's and Children's
Hospital.
"We'll excuse your further remarks on that subject, Theresa. But you
recited the succession of the English sovereigns very well indeed. I,
too, learned that rhyme when I was a little girl."
Tess thought the bespectacled teacher said this last rather more
sympathetically. She felt rebuked, however, and tried to keep a watch on
her tongue thereafter in Miss Pepperill's presence.
At least, she felt that she had comported herself well with the rhyme,
and settled back into her seat with a feeling of thankfulness.
Miss Pepperill's mention of Mr. Marks' observation before the teachers
regarding the little girl who was preaching the gospel of help for the
hospital, made no impression at all on Tess Kenway's mind. She had no
idea that she had made so many grown people think of the institution's
needs.
Before the high school classes early in that first week of school, the
principal incorporated in his welcoming remarks something of importance
regarding this very thing.
"We open school this term with quite a novel proposal before us. It has
not yet been sanctioned by the Board of Education, although I
understand that that body is soon to have it under advisement. In
several towns of Milton's size and importance, there were last winter
presented spectacles and musical plays, mainly by the pupils of the
public schools of the several towns, and always for worthy charitable
objects.
"The benefit to be gained by the schools in general and by the pupils
that took part in the plays in particular, looked very doubtful to me at
a distance; but this summer I made it my business to examine into the
results of such appearances in musical pieces by pupils of other
schools. I find it develops their dramatic instinct and an appreciation
of music and acting. It gives vent, too, to the natural desire of young
people to dance and sing, and to 'act out' a pleasant story, while they
are really helping a worthy work of charity.
"One of the most successful of these school plays is called _The
Carnation Countess_. It is a play with music which lends itself to
brilliant costuming, spectacular scenery, and offers many minor parts
which can easily be filled by you young people. A small company of
professional players and singers carry the principal parts in _The
Carnation Countess_; but if we are allowed to take up the production of
this play--say in holiday week--I promise you that every one who feels
the desire to do so, may have a part in it.
"The matter is all unsettled at present. But it is something to think
of. Besides, a very small girl, I understand, a pupil in our grammar
grade, is preaching a crusade for Milton's Women's and Children's
Hospital. Inspired or not, that child has, during the past few days,
awakened many people of this town to their duty towards that very
estimable institution.
"The Women's and Children's Hospital is poor. It needs funds. Indeed, it
is about to be closed for lack of sufficient means to pay salaries and
buy supplies. The _Post_ has several times tried to awaken public
interest in the institution, but to no avail.
"Now, this child, as I have said, has done more than the public press.
And quite unconsciously, I have no doubt.
"This is the way great things are often done. The seed timidly sown
often brings forth the abundant crop. The stone thrown into the middle
of the pool starts a wave that reaches the very shore.
"However, if we act the play for the charity proposed or not, there is a
matter somewhat connected with it," continued the principal, his face
clouding for a moment, "that I am obliged to bring to your attention. Of
course, it is understood that only the pupils who do their work
satisfactorily to their immediate instructors, will have any share in
the production of the play.
"This rule, I am sorry to say, will affect certain members of our
athletic teams who, I find, have been anything but correct in their
behavior. I shall take this serious matter up in a few days with the
culprits in question. At present I will only say that the basket ball
match set for next Saturday with the team from the Kenyon school, will
be forfeited. All the members, I understand, of our first basket ball
team are equally guilty of misbehavior at a time when they were on
honor.
"I will see the members of the team in my office after the second
session to-day. You are dismissed to your classes, young ladies and
gentlemen."
The blow had fallen! Agnes was so amazed and troubled that she failed to
connect Mr. Marks' observations about the child who was arousing Milton
to its duty towards the Women's and Children's Hospital, with her own
little sister, Tess.