"YOUR'N'S THE WAY!"
YOU are not to suppose, because this first Monday evening (which, by
the way, was concluded with sandwiches and coffee) was a success,
pronounced so by all concerned, that therefore the ones which followed
were all rose-colour.
Fortunately, not one of the workers expected this, and so were brave
and cheerful under drawbacks.
These were numerous and varied.
After the first novelty wore off, it took at times only the most
trivial excuses to keep the boys away. Sometimes when they came, their
conduct was anything but encouraging. They lolled in the easy-chairs,
smelling strongly of tobacco and other bar-room odours, refused
insolently to apply themselves to any work at hand, audibly pronounced
the whole thing "slow," and in numberless ways severely tried the
patience of both Alfred and Gracie.
For the others, they had counted the cost—at least the gentlemen
had—and expected to move slowly, even to appear to go backward some of
the time. As for Mrs. Roberts, I have told you that she worked in a
peculiar manner, with the motto, "This one thing I do," apparently ever
before her.
Each evening was distinct in itself, with efforts to make and obstacles
to overcome; and at its close she had a way of laying it aside,
as something with which her part was done, not attempting even to
calculate results. Then she was ready to turn to a new day, and work
steadily for that.
The winter was slipping away, and Gracie Dennis lingered. She could
hardly have told you why, yet there were many apparent reasons. Mrs.
Roberts wanted her, rejoiced in her, and coaxed irresistibly as often
as the thought of going home was mentioned. Then Gracie, laugh over the
peculiar work going on as she might, was undeniably interested in those
boys. She was working for them, therefore of course she was interested.
"I don't see how you can go this week," would young Reid say to her,
with a perplexed air; "you know we have that matter all planned for
next Monday evening. How can we carry out the scheme if you are not
there to do your part?"
Then would Gracie laugh, and demur, and admit, to herself only, that it
was very pleasant to be needed—as she certainly was—for one night more;
and so the nights passed.
Her work was to be "Professor of Elocution," as Mr. Roberts gaily
called her when the workers were alone together. It had been
discovered that she could read both prose and poetry with effect. So
a reading-class was organized, and they chose for the first evening,
not one of Bryant's or Whittier's gems, nor selections from Milton or
Shakespeare, which would have suited part of the company, nor yet the
"Easy Readings" in some standard spelling-book, which would have fitted
the capacity of the others, but, with care and much discussion, one of
Will Carleton's descriptive poems, full of homely yet tender language,
full of pathos and of humour, was unanimously selected.
The first evening reading had been commenced with nuts and apples.
There are those who can see no connection between this and the
intellectual; happily for the characters with whom she had to deal,
Mrs. Roberts was not one of them.
While the others were still enjoying the refreshments, she took the
book and read. This was her quiet little sacrifice. It was not pleasant
to her to become a public reader. It required courage to get through
with one verse, with Dr. Everett sitting opposite, and Gracie Dennis
on a low seat at her side, and her husband listening intently. Mrs.
Roberts was not a good reader, and was aware of it. She pronounced
the words correctly, it is true; but when you had said that, you had
said all that there was to offer in praise of her effort. She had some
exasperating faults. But she bravely read the two verses, and some of
the boys listened, and one of them laughed; he had caught a gleam of
the fun in the poem. This, of course, was Nimble Dick.
Then Alfred Reid made the same effort on the same verses; his
performance was very little better, and he, too, knew it. He could
write, but he was by no means a public reader; this was his offering to
the general good. If those fellows, by reason of his mistakes, could be
induced to climb, he was willing to offer his pride on the altar. No
matter by what petty trials they were caught, so that they were really
caught.
Then followed Gracie Dennis; and her own father, acceptable preacher
though he was, might with credit to himself have taken lessons of
her. She was certainly, for one so young and so unprofessional, a
magnificent reader. So indeed was Marion Wilbur, and she had enjoyed
teaching Gracie.
The poem blossomed in her hand. The crunching of nuts and apples
entirely ceased. The boys sat erect, and listened and laughed, and
flushed and swallowed suspiciously, over some of the homely pathos.
They had never heard anything like that before, and they evidently
appreciated it. She read through to the end.
Then were unloosed the tongues. They exclaimed in delight,—
"What an accomplishment it is!" said Mr. Roberts. "And how few possess
it! Doctor, how many really fine readers have you heard in your life?"
"About three," said the doctor laconically.
"Well," said Mrs. Roberts, "let us all be exceptions.—Gracie, teach us
how. I will try again."
And she did, on the first verse of the poem, with better success than
before; but how sharp the contrast between her reading and Gracie's,
she knew! It was not easy for her to read.
I don't know—possibly I am mistaken—but it seems to me that I have
known people ready for large sacrifices, who yet would shrink painfully
from these little ones.
In discussing the programme for the evening, the question had been,
when each had done his part, How were they to influence the boys to
join? Could they join? Was it probable that they knew enough about
reading to attempt to speak the words of the poem? With reference to
this obstacle, a poem had been chosen full of simple, homely words,
such as are in common use; especially was the first verse free from
what Mr. Roberts called "shoals." Having heard the verse read several
times, it was hoped that some one of the seven might have courage to
attempt it; but Gracie did not believe that such would be the case.
"I don't see how we can ask them, and do it naturally," said Dr.
Everett. "It is such an unheard-of thing, you know; and I am afraid, do
our best, it will present itself to them as a patronage, and that will
be fatal. The people who are low enough to need patronage are the very
ones who won't endure it."
Whereupon various ways of managing the matter were discussed and
discarded. Suddenly Mrs. Roberts turned to her young lieutenant, who
had been silent for some time, and said,—
"What are you thinking of, Mr. Reid Do you see a way out?"
"No," he said; "I have neither knowledge nor skill in such matters;
but my thoughts just then were faraway. I was thinking how curiously
certain apparently trivial instances of one's childhood will stand out
with almost startling prominence."
"What sent you off in that direction?" questioned Dr. Everett. "There
must have been an association of ideas."
"Oh, there was. I was thinking how vividly I remembered a discussion
between my mother and my sister younger than Esther, in regard to
some matter which perplexed them; and when they could come to no
satisfactory conclusion, they appealed to my sister Esther, who was
resting as usual on her lounge. I seem to hear her voice as she said,—
"'We haven't to do anything about it until to-morrow; perhaps to-morrow
will have a light of its own for our direction.'"
"Thank you," Mrs. Roberts said, her eyes lighting with an appreciative
smile; "we have not to do anything about this until Monday night, and
perhaps Monday night will see us wise."
I don't know how many thought of this little conversation when Monday
evening came; but certainly Alfred Reid and Mrs. Roberts did, for
she glanced at him and smiled significantly when Dr. Everett, having
apparently forgotten that anything beyond their own pleasure was in
contemplation, challenged Gracie to a discussion as to the emphasis on
a certain word in the second line; he had never heard it so read, and
he called for an analysis that would sustain the reading, and received
it, and was not yet prepared to yield the point, but read the verse as
he had imagined it should be read.
And then Gracie, at Mr. Roberts's call, repeated it with her rendering;
and I am not sure but all parties concerned actually forgot their final
object in the interest of the discussion until they were suddenly
called to it by an interrupting voice,—
"Your'n's the way," it said, with an emphatic nod of a shock of matted
hair—"your'n's the way."
It was Dirk Colson. He had forgotten for the moment that anybody was
listening to him, save the two readers. He was looking directly at
Gracie, and the nods were evidently intended for her.
"Of course it is!" she said eagerly, her face flushing with a triumph
that had nothing to do with the right emphasis.
"You read it, won't you, and show these people that we are right?"
Afterward, Mrs. Roberts confessed that she involuntarily placed her
hand on her heart with a dim idea of hushing its beating, lest others
would hear, so important to her did the moment seem.
Dr. Everett looked dismayed. The least hopeful one of the seven seemed
Dirk. None of them knew of his dangerous talent for imitation. None of
them believed that he would make any attempt at reading, but thought
he would shrink into deeper sullenness. All of them were mistaken. He
reached for the book, glanced for a moment over the lines, and then
read the verse with so complete an imitation of Gracie Dennis, and yet
with a voice and manner that so fitted the homely words and the homely
scene described, that the effect was actually better than when Gracie
read.
Instinctively the cultured portion of his audience greeted the effort
with a clapping of hands. The blood, meantime, rolled in dark waves
over Dirk's face. He had been cheered before. None of his present
applauders could imagine what a set had often clapped their hands
over his successful imitations; but Dirk, who liked applause as well
as other human beings do, had never, in his wildest stretches of
imagination, placed himself before such people as listened now, and
received their approval.
Great was the excitement and satisfaction. The six companions, far from
feeling any emotion of jealousy, seemed greatly elated, believing that
one of their number had made a "hit" and increased their importance.
No one else could be found to attempt the verse. Nimble Dick shook his
head good-naturedly, and declared that he would rather "undertake to
run an engine to Californy" than try it; and the others were of like
mind. Then came Gracie to the front again.
"I'll tell you what you must all do. I have been experimenting with
that type-writer, Mr. Roberts, all the week. You know it will manifold,
with the use of carbon paper; and it chances that when I was seized
with a desire to try its powers in that direction, I chose this very
verse to copy. So I have fifteen good copies in print. You must each
take a copy and make this verse a study until next Monday; then I shall
challenge you all to sustain me in my reading."
This proposition was hailed with such satisfaction by the older members
that it immediately became popular, and each boy received his copy
mechanically and gazed at it curiously, but Dirk Colson's thoughts were
turned in a new channel.
"Look here!" he said, detaining Gracie by an imperious inclination of
his head, as she handed him the copy. "How did you make these? Didn't
you print them fifteen times? I didn't understand what you said."
"Why no," said Gracie; "the machine will manifold. I'll show you; come
over to the end window: it stands there waiting to be displayed, and it
is a little wonder."
Then they crowded around the type-writer, and Gracie, really proud of
the skill she had acquired in a week's time, showed off the little
wonder to great advantage.
The fact that the type-writer was new to most of the others, that they
were decidedly ignorant as to its working, increased the comfort of
the hour, by doing away with the embarrassing feeling that any one of
them was playing a part. Dr. Everett was no more familiar with the
type-writer than was Dirk Colson, and was just as eager to know about
it.
Also, everybody apparently felt an equally strong desire to write his
name on the marvellous little creature; and each in turn sat down
before it and moved his awkward hands with nearly equal slowness over
the keys, picking out the magic letters.
It was this episode that made the workers during their next conference
branch out in new lines.
"We need something," said Dr. Everett, walking up and down the
floor in puzzled thought—"we need something that shall be a genuine
common interest, of which we are all, or all but one, equally
ignorant—something that we can take hold of with zest, on as low a
platform as the most ignorant of those seven. I was convinced of that
when I saw the abandon with which we all went into the type-writer
business with a naturalness and equality that, in the matter of reading
and writing, it is impossible for us to feel. If the machine were
complicated, so that it would take us each three months or so to master
it, that would do. What can we take up that will place us on a level?"