Emmy Lou was now a Big Girl. One climbed from floor to floor as one
went up in Readers. With the Fifth Reader one reached the dizzy eminence
of top. Emmy Lou now stood, as it were, upon a peak in Darien and stared
at the great unknown, rolling ahead, called The Grammar School.
Behind, descended the grades of one's achievements back to the A, B, C
of things. One had once been a pygmy part of the Primer World on the
first floor one's self, and from there had gazed upward at the haloed
beings peopling these same Fifth Reader Heights.
But Emmy Lou felt that somehow she was failing to experience the
expected sense of dizzy height, or the joy of perquisite and privilege.
To be sure, being a Big Girl, she found herself at recess, one of many,
taking hands in long, undulating line, and, like the Assyrian, sweeping
down on the fold, while the fold, in the shape of little girls, fled
shrieking before the onslaught.
But there had been a time when Emmy Lou had been a little girl, and had
fled, shrieking, herself. The memory kept her from quite enjoying the
onslaught now, though of course a little girl of the under world is only
a Primary and must be made to feel it. The privileged members of the
Fifth Reader World are Intermediates.
They are other things, too. They are Episcopalians or Presbyterians or
some other correspondingly polysyllabic thing, as the case may be. In
this case each seemed to be a different thing. Hattie first called the
attention of Emmy Lou to it.
The Fifth Reader members ate lunch in groups. Without knowing it, one
was growing gregarious. And as becomes a higher social state, one passed
one's luncheon around.
[Illustration: "Hattie took Emmy Lou aside. 'It's their religion.'"]
Emmy Lou passed her luncheon around. Emmy Lou herself knew the joys of
eating; and hers, too, was a hospitable soul. She brought liberal
luncheons. On this day, between the disks of her beaten biscuit showed
the pinkness of sliced ham.
Mary Agatha drew back; Mary Agatha was Emmy Lou's newest friend. "It's
Friday," said Mary Agatha.
"Of course," said Rosalie, "I forgot." Rosalie put her biscuit back.
"It's ham," said Rebecca Steinau.
Emmy Lou was hurt. It seemed almost like preconcerted reflection on her
biscuits and her ham.
Hattie took Emmy Lou aside. "It's their religion," said Hattie, in tones
of large tolerance. "We can eat anything, you and I, 'Piscopalians and
Presbyterians."
"But Rosalie," said Emmy Lou; Rosalie, like Emmy Lou, was Episcopalian.
But Rosalie had joined Hattie and Emmy Lou. "My little brother's singing
in the vested choir," said Rosalie, "and we're going to be High Church."
Hattie looked at Rosalie steadily. Then Hattie took another biscuit.
Hattie took another biscuit, deliberately, aggressively. It was as
though, with Hattie, to take another biscuit was a matter of conscience
and protest. Hattie was Presbyterian.
But to Emmy Lou biscuits and ham had lost their savour. Emmy Lou admired
Rebecca. Rebecca could reduce pounds and shillings to pence with a
rapidity that Emmy Lou could not even follow. Yet Rebecca stooped from
this eminence to help labouring Emmy Lou with her sums.
And Emmy Lou saw life through Rosalie's eyes. Emmy Lou trudged
unquestioningly after, where the winged feet of Rosalie's fancy led. For
yet about Rosalie's light footsteps trailed back some clouds of glory,
and through the eyes of Rosalie one still caught visions of the glory
and the dream.
And high as are the peaks of the Fifth Reader Heights, Mary Agatha stood
on one yet higher. Mary Agatha went to church, not only on Sundays, but
on Saints' days.
Mary Agatha loved to go to church.
But, for the matter of that, Rebecca went to church on Saturdays. When
did Rebecca _play_?
To Emmy Lou church meant several things. It meant going, when down in
her depraved heart lay the knowledge she tried to hide even from herself
that she did not want to go. It meant a sore and troubled conscience,
because her eye would travel ahead on the page to the Amens. The Amens
signified the end. And it meant a fierce and unholy joy that would not
down, when that end came.
But Mary Agatha loved to go to church. And Rebecca gave Saturdays to
church. And now Rosalie, who admired Mary Agatha, was taking to church.
No wonder that to Emmy Lou biscuits and ham were tasteless.
But the Fifth Reader is an Age of Revelation. One is more than an
Intermediate. One is an Animal and a Biped. One had to confess it on
paper in a Composition under the head of "Man."
One accepted the Intermediate and Biped easily, because of a haziness of
comprehension, but to hear that one is an Animal was a shock.
But Miss Fanny said so. Miss Fanny also said the course in Language was
absurd. She said it under her breath. She said it as Emmy Lou handed in
her Composition on "Man."
So one was an animal. One felt confidence in Miss Fanny's statements.
Miss Fanny walked lightly, she laughed in her eyes; that last fact one
did not cherish against Miss Fanny, though sometimes one smiled
doubtfully back at her. Was Miss Fanny laughing at one?
Miss Fanny was a Real Person. The others had been Teachers. Miss Fanny
had a grandpapa. He was rich. And she had a mamma who cried about Miss
Fanny's teaching school. But her grandpapa said he was proud of Miss
Fanny.
Emmy Lou knew all about Miss Fanny. Miss Fanny's sister was Aunt
Louise's best friend.
Mr. Bryan, the Principal, came often to the Fifth Reader room. He came
for Language Lessons. Mr. Bryan told them he had himself introduced the
Course in Language into the School Curriculum.
Its purpose, he explained, was to increase the comprehension and
vocabulary of the child. The paucity of vocabulary of even the average
adult, he said, is lamentable.
"In all moments of verbal doubt and perplexity," said Mr. Bryan, "seek
the Dictionary. In its pages you will find both vocabulary and
elucidation."
Toward spring Religions became more absorbing than ever. One day Rebecca
and Gertie and Rachel brought notes. Rebecca and Gertie and Rachel must
thereafter be excused on certain days at an early hour for attendance at
Confirmation Class.
Miss Fanny said "Of course." But she reminded them of Examination for
the Grammar School looming ahead.
A little later a second influx of notes piled Miss Fanny's desk. Mary
Agatha and Kitty and Nora and Anne must go at noon, three times a week,
to their Confirmation Class.
Then Yetta and Paula could not come at all on their instruction days,
because the Lutheran Church was far up-town in Germanberg. They, too,
were making ready for Confirmation.
Again Miss Fanny reminded them all of Examination.
Just at this time Emmy Lou was having trouble of her own. It was Lent,
which meant Church three times a week. Aunt Louise said Emmy Lou must
go. She said Emmy Lou, being now a big girl, ought to want to go.
Rosalie, being High, had Church every afternoon. But Rosalie liked it.
Emmy Lou feared she was the only one in all the class who did not like
it.
Even Sadie must enjoy church. For one day she missed in every lesson and
lost her temper and cried; next day she brought a note from her mamma,
and then she told Emmy Lou about it; it asked that Sadie be excused for
missing, for because of the Revival at her church, Sadie would be up
late every night.
Mr. Bryan was in the room when Miss Fanny read this note. She handed it
to him.
"To each year its evils, I suppose," said Miss Fanny; "to the Primer its
whooping-cough and measles, to the First Reader the shedding of its
incisors. With the Fifth Reader comes the inoculation of doctrines. We
are living the Ten Great Religions."
Mr. Bryan laid the note down. He said he must caution Miss Fanny that,
as Principal or as Teacher, neither he nor she had anything to do with
the religions of the children intrusted to their care. And he must
remind Miss Fanny that these problems of school life could not be met
with levity. He hoped Miss Fanny would take this as he meant it, kindly.
The class listened breathlessly. Was Miss Fanny treating their religions
with levity? What is levity?
It was Emmy Lou who asked the others when they sought to pin the
accusation to Miss Fanny.
Mary Agatha looked it up in the Dictionary. Then she reported:
"Lightness of conduct, want of weight, inconstancy, vanity, frivolity."
She told it off with low and accusing enunciation.
It sounded grave. Emmy Lou was troubled. Could Miss Fanny be all this?
Could she be guilty of levity?
It was soon after that Mary Agatha brought a note; she told Rosalie and
Emmy Lou about it; it asked that Mary Agatha be allowed a seat to
herself. This, Mary Agatha explained, was because, preparatory to
Confirmation, she was trying to keep her mind from secular things, and a
seat to herself would help her to do it.
[Illustration: "Mary Agatha was as one already apart from things
secular."]
To Rosalie and Emmy Lou, Mary Agatha was as one already apart from
things secular. To them the look on her clear, pale little profile was
already rapt.
But Mary Agatha went on to tell them why she was different from Kitty or
Nora, or the others of her Confirmation Class. It was because she was
going to be a Bride of Heaven.
Rosalie listened, awed. But Emmy Lou did not quite understand.
Mary Agatha looked pityingly at her. "You know what a bride is? And you
know what's Heaven?"
The bell rang. Emmy Lou returned to the mental eminence of her Fifth
Reader heights, still hazy. Yet she hardly needed the Dictionary, for
she knew a bride. Aunt Katie had been a bride. With a diamond star. And
presents. And Emmy Lou knew Heaven.
Though lately Emmy Lou's ideas of Heaven had broadened. Hitherto,
Heaven, conceived of the primitive, primary mind, had been a matter of
vague numbers seated in parallel rows, answering to something akin to
Roll Call, and awarded accordingly. But lately, a birthday had brought
Emmy Lou a book called "Tanglewood Tales." And Heaven had since taken on
an Olympian colouring and diversity more complex and perplexing.
Miss Fanny read Mary Agatha's note, and looking down at her said that
she wondered, since every desk was in use in its dual capacity, if Mary
Agatha were to devote herself quite closely to reducing pounds to pence,
would it not be possible for her to forget her nearness to things
secular?
Mary Agatha was poor in Arithmetic. And Miss Fanny was laughing in her
eyes. Was Miss Fanny laughing at Mary Agatha?
Mary Agatha cried at recess. She said her Papa furnished pokers and
tongs and shovels and dust-pans for the public schools, and he would see
to it that she had a seat to herself if she wanted it.
But when the class went up from recess, there was a seat for Mary
Agatha. Miss Fanny had sent the note down to Mr. Bryan, and he had
arranged it. It was a table from the office, and a stool. For want of
other place, they stood beneath the blackboard in front of the class. It
was a high stool.
Being told, Mary Agatha gathered her books together and went and climbed
upon her stool, apart from things secular.
Miss Fanny turned to Mr. Bryan. "For the propagation of infant Saint
Stylites," said Miss Fanny.
"Ur-r--exactly," said Mr. Bryan. He said it a little, perhaps,
doubtfully.
Suddenly Mr. Bryan grew red. He had caught Miss Fanny's eyes laughing,
and saw her mouth twitching. Was Miss Fanny laughing at Mr. Bryan? What
about?
Mr. Bryan went out. He closed the door. It closed sharply.
Then everything came at once. Hot weather, and roses and syringa piling
Miss Fanny's desk, and Reviews for Examination, and Confirmations.
Mary Agatha asked them to her confirmation. Rosalie and Emmy Lou went.
The great doors at Mary Agatha's church opened and closed behind them;
it was high and dim; there were twinkling lights and silence, and awe,
and colour. Something quivered. It burst forth. It was music. It was
almost as if it hurt. One drew a deep breath and shut one's eyes a
moment because it hurt; then one opened them. The aisles were filled
with little girls in misty white and floating veils, stealing forward.
And Mary Agatha was among them.
Rosalie told Emmy Lou she meant some day to belong to Mary Agatha's
church. Emmy Lou thought she would, too.
[Illustration: "And Mary Agatha was among them."]
But afterward Emmy Lou found herself wavering. Was Emmy Lou's a sordid
soul? For next came Confirmation at the Synagogue, and that, it seemed,
meant presents. Gertie wore to school a locket on a glittering chain;
Rebecca showed a new ring. Emmy Lou's faith was wavering.
About this time Miss Fanny spoke her mind. Because of excuses and
absences, because of abstractions and absorptions, Miss Fanny said marks
were low; and she reminded them of Examination for the Grammar School
near at hand. Then she asked a little girl named Sally why she had
failed to hand in her Composition.
[Illustration: "Gertie wore to school a locket on a glittering chain;
Rebecca showed a new ring."]
Sally said her church was having a season of prayer, and her Mother
said Sally was old enough now to go, and as it was both afternoons and
evenings, Sally had had no time to write a Composition.
Miss Fanny told Sally to remain in at recess and write it. Mr. Bryan had
inquired for her Composition.