An Advertisement Competition
Though the general census at St. Cyprian's had docketed Mildred
emphatically as "musical", she was not on that account entirely debarred
from joining other societies. True, she was expected to concentrate her
energies on her violin, and win credit with it for the school, but so
long as she did not claim a leading part in any of the alliance
contests, there was no objection to her being an ordinary member. All
the girls were strongly encouraged to play games, so she practised
tennis in the dinner hour, and took her turn with the rank and file at
cricket. She had not the essential characteristics of a champion--her
physique was not vigorous enough, and she lacked perseverance--but the
exercise was good for her, and as the term wore on she began to exhibit
improvement. Kitty Fletcher was in hard training, and had inspired a
select number of suitable votaries with a like enthusiasm.
"We shall have a hard fight presently with the High School, so we must
show that St. Cyprian's is capable of something," she said. "They shan't
have it all their own way. I'm sorry we can't put you in the team,
Mildred."
"I don't want to be in the team. I'd much rather look on when it's a
question of matches. At present I'm thoroughly enjoying dabbling in all
the societies. I've joined the sketching club, and I'm taking a turn at
the Literary."
"That's more in your line than mine. I'd rather spend an afternoon at
cricket than compose an essay."
"Oh, I'm not doing any real solid writing. I leave that to Phillis
Garnett and Laura Kirby. They're hard at work making a magazine number
that's to rival the _Nineteenth Century_ or the _Hibbert Journal_. My
contributions are of a very light character. I sent one in the other
day, and--isn't it sad?--it was rejected 'with the editor's
compliments'. I tackled Phillis about it, and she said the mag. was
meant to be serious, not comic. I thought my poem might have livened
things up a little, but she'd have none of it."
"Have you got it here?"
"Yes; like the orthodox unsuccessful minor poet, I have it in my
pocket."
"Oh, do let me see it!"
"It has the advantage of shortness, and if brevity is the soul of wit,
that ought to be a point in its favour," said Mildred, producing her
maiden effort. "I call it a 'compressed novelette'. Perhaps I'd better
read it aloud to do it full justice. My writing isn't very clear.
"All ringed and bangled,
At me you angled;
With ways newfangled
The bait you dangled.
Yet ere bells jangled
We two had wrangled,
Our love was tangled,
My heart was mangled!"
"Not half-bad!" laughed Kitty. "I'm afraid it's hardly the style,
though, to impress Phillis or Laura. If you could have written it in
Greek it might have suited them. What did the others say to it?"
"Haven't had time to show it to them yet."
"Some of them will like it. They're not all as deep as Phillis and
Laura. Why don't you get up a little fun among the more frivolous end?"
"It might be worth thinking of if I find an opportunity."
Mildred, who had a strong vein of humour in her composition, treasured
up Kitty's suggestion. She knew the bulk of the members could not rise
to the height of the learned essay which their leaders considered worthy
of the magazine, but they would be quite ready to amuse themselves with
work of a less exacting character. Several schemes occurred to her and
were put aside, but one day she hit upon something really appropriate,
and came to school with visible triumph on her face. At eleven-o'clock
break she cajoled the lesser lights of the literary society to a private
corner of the playground, and propounded her scheme.
"Look here," she began. "I saw this advertisement in yesterday's
_Herald_, and cut it out:
"LITERARY.--Wanted, short poems to advertise a famous brand of tea.
Prize of three guineas offered for best effort, and ten shillings
each for any others selected. Cracker mottoes and comic verses for
Christmas cards also considered. Last date for receiving, May
20th.--No. 201x, _Kirkton Herald_ Office.
Well, now, my idea is this. Let's all try and write some verses, put
them together, and send them in. It would be such a joke!"
"Could we write verses about tea?" hazarded Maggie Orton doubtfully.
"Of course we can. It rhymes with heaps of things--agree, and free, and
quali_tee_; it shouldn't be hard at all."
"I rather incline towards cracker mottoes," said Clarice Mayfield. "Most
that one gets at Christmas parties are such drivel. I've often felt I
could make better."
"Then do try. And, Margaret, you ought to be able to turn out some
Christmas-card verses. Let's make a syndicate, and pool all our
contributions. Everybody to send in not less than one, and more if
possible."
"How about the prize, if one of the poems got it? Should we pool that?"
"We could divide it," suggested Myrtle Robinson.
"No, I've a better idea than that," said Mildred. "We'd be
public-spirited, and devote any proceeds we got to the school library.
We've the most rubbishy set of old books at St. Cyprian's, and want some
new ones badly. Who votes for this?"
"Aye! Aye!" came quite unanimously from the girls, though Maggie Orton
qualified her assent with a cautious "If we get it".
"Well, that goes without saying, of course. Naturally it's a case of
'first catch your hare'. But there's no harm in trying, so we must all
set our wits to work and see what we can manage. It ought to be rather
sport."
"Especially if we see the verses in print afterwards," giggled the
girls.
"You'd better not tell Phillis," added Myrtle.
"I don't intend to," laughed Mildred.
The various members of the syndicate were rather taken with the idea of
the competition, and exercised their brains to the utmost in evolving
eulogies of the unknown brand of tea. Some of their effusions they tore
up, and some they kept. In the end, after being carefully read aloud and
voted on, three only were judged worthy of being submitted. These were
by Maggie Orton, Myrtle Robinson, and Mildred herself. They ran as
follows:--
OUR BRAND
"If a good tea you would buy,
You can always quite rely
On our excellent and justly famous blend.
'T is a most delicious cup,
That will tone and cheer you up,
And one that we can safely recommend.
"If you want good honest tea,
That will rich in flavour be,
So fragrant, so refreshing, and so pure,
Just try our special brand
Of young leaves picked by hand,
'T will give you satisfaction, we are sure.
"Let the water be fresh boiled,
Or the tea'll perchance be spoiled,
And brewed for just three minutes let it be.
Then we think you'll never tire
Of sitting by the fire,
And enjoying our delicious brand of tea."
A FAMOUS BLEND
"All those who try
Good tea to buy,
And oft have found
The price too high,
We recommend
That you should try
Our famous blend.
"By careful choice
All crops among,
We mix a blend
That can't go wrong;
For flavour rare
Housewives declare
'T is past compare.
"The huge demand
On every hand
Shows to the wise
It takes the prize.
We can rely,
If once you try,
You'll always buy."
WORLD-FAMOUS TEA
"If a tea you would find that is just to your mind,
Yet that won't be too dear for your pocket,
Try our world-famous blend, when your money you spend,
And remember our branches all stock it.
So come to our shop for your tea,
Our famous, rich, syrupy tea;
If once you will get it, you'll never regret it,
But join in the praise of our tea.
"Home's a glad happy place, with a smile on each face,
If our world-famous brand you will sample;
'T is the tea ladies love, as the large demands prove.
And three spoons in the pot will be ample.
So come to our shop for your tea,
Our famous, rich, syrupy tea;
Mansion, cottage, or hall, it is suited to all,
The best that can possibly be."
A few cracker mottoes and Christmas-card verses were also selected, and
the whole set put together. Mildred, as the originator of the scheme,
took charge of them, and promised to send them off in good time for the
competition. It seemed no use forwarding them too soon, as they would
probably only lie waiting at the _Herald_ offices, so she put them by in
a drawer to post when the right date arrived. Now, unfortunately, though
Mildred could be extremely keen upon a thing at the moment, once the
first excitement of it was over it was apt to slip from her memory. She
had enjoyed trying her 'prentice muse at tea verses, but, having
finished them, she turned her thoughts to something else. Music was at
present absorbing most of her time, and in the interest of her violin
the papers lay in her drawer forgotten. On the afternoon of May 20th she
was sitting in the studio working at her drawing copy, with no more idea
of advertisements for tea in her thoughts than if that beverage had
never existed. At three o'clock she was due for her music lesson from
Herr Hoffmann, and she was putting in time rather languidly at her chalk
head of Venus, and wondering whether the Professor would be in a good
temper, or whether he would scold her for faulty rendering of her study.
Myrtle Robinson was sitting at the desk behind, and presently contrived,
without attracting the attention of the teacher, to hand her a slip of
paper. She opened it carelessly enough, and read:
"I suppose you posted the competitions all right? M. R."
Mildred dropped her pencil and broke its point in her agitation. Posted
the competitions? She had done nothing of the sort. They were still
lying in her drawer at home, though to-day was the last date for
receiving them.
"Oh, what a lunatic I am!" she groaned to herself, "I, who suggested the
whole thing, and made the others write, to be the one to forget all
about it! Something has to be done, that's clear. And it must be done at
once, too. I mustn't on any account let the girls know I failed them."
Mildred was impulsive to a fault. At this moment the one business in
life seemed to be to get the competitions to their destination, even at
the eleventh hour. It was futile to post them, but they might still be
delivered at the offices of the _Kirkton Herald_. There was nothing else
for it, she must take them herself, and that immediately. It was almost
three o'clock, and the art mistress knew that she had to go to her music
lesson. She rose, therefore, received the nod of dismissal, and,
ignoring Myrtle's signal demanding an answer to her question, put away
her drawing-board, and hurried from the studio. Instead, however, of
fetching her violin, and going straight to No. 6 practising room, where
Herr Hoffmann would just be finishing Mary Hutton's lesson, she walked
to the dressing-room, and put on her hat and coat. She knew she was
going to do a most dreadfully unauthorized and unorthodox act, and she
shivered to think of the consequences, but she did not hesitate for one
moment.
"That competition's got to go in time," she told herself, "even though
the Professor rages, and Miss Cartwright storms, and I get myself into
the biggest pickle I've ever been in, in all my life. I can't fail the
girls now. I couldn't look them in the face again. It would be too
ignominious. No, I've a pressing engagement elsewhere this afternoon,
and can't keep my appointment with Herr Hoffmann, though I shan't write
a note and tell him so!"
At three o'clock it was extremely easy to leave the school unobserved.
Nobody was about, so Mildred simply walked out through the gate. She
took the electric car home, and was rather relieved to find that neither
her uncle nor her aunt was in the house. She felt she would rather not
enter into any explanations just at present. The papers were quite ready
in an envelope, and duly addressed, so she took them from her drawer,
and caught the next tram-car into Kirkton. The _Herald_ offices were in
Corporation Street, a business part of the city she did not know at all,
but she thought she could find it. She felt rather adventurous and
decidedly naughty, for she was not supposed to go on expeditions by
herself without first asking leave at home, to say nothing of having run
away from St. Cyprian's.
She left the tram at the High Street corner, and turned down Corporation
Street. The town was very crowded, and she was almost jostled off the
pavement by the numbers of people who were passing to and fro. By dint
of asking a policeman she at last found the offices of the _Kirkton
Herald_. She did not know whether she was expected to ring, knock, or
walk in, but she could see no bell, and as business men kept passing in
and out by a large swinging door, she plucked up her courage, and
followed in the wake of a new-comer. She had done the right thing, for
she found herself in a big room, having a counter like a bank to divide
clerks from customers. She handed in her envelope with a timid enquiry
as to whether it was in time.
"Just in time," was the reply. "We close the box-office department at
four-thirty."
With a sigh of intense relief, Mildred watched the clerk place her
communication in a pigeonhole. So it was safe, and she had not betrayed
her trust after all. She felt the satisfaction was worth almost any
amount of scolding. She turned leisurely to leave the office, when the
big door swung open, and she found herself face to face with no less a
person than Herr Hoffmann. Most egregiously caught, Mildred turned
crimson, and would have beaten a swift retreat had not the Professor
barred the way.
"So, Miss Lancaster! I find you here! Are you then having a violin
lesson from ze newspaper? I wait half an hour for you at ze school, and
you not come! How is it you fail to-day to be at your lesson?"
Mildred blushed still redder, tried to stammer an excuse, then seeing a
twinkle of amusement gleaming under Herr Hoffmann's bushy eyebrows, she
took a sudden resolution, and blurted out the truth. She made her little
story as short as possible, and the Professor nodded his head with
German gravity at the principal points. When she had finished, he
chuckled softly.
"So you would turn poets at St. Cyprian's, and write songs in praise of
tea? You shall show me ze verses? Yes, some day. But while you write ze
poetry, ze violin does not make progress. To-day we were to have taken
ze concerto and ze 'Fruehlingslied'. Is it not so?"
"Yes," murmured Mildred, much abashed.
"I like not that you miss your lesson. You shall come to me to-morrow at
my house, No. 50 Basil Street, and I will hear you play ze concerto.
Yes, at four-thirty. You will be there?"
"Oh, thank you!" said Mildred. "Yes, of course I'll come. It's very good
of you to make up the lesson."
"Some day you shall read me ze tea verses. Miss Cartwright, is she also
satisfied for you to miss school?" said Herr Hoffmann, with a friendly
nod, as he dismissed his pupil and turned to the counter.
Mildred hurried home, feeling that she had not only Miss Cartwright to
reckon with, but her aunt as well. She had a very open, truthful
disposition, and did not dream of concealing her escapade. She told Mrs.
Graham the exact facts as they had occurred.
"I just had to do it, Tantie dear! I don't see how I could possibly have
done anything else."
Fortunately for Mildred, though Mrs. Graham shook her head, she did not
take a severe view of the matter.
"It's extremely good of Herr Hoffmann to make up the lesson," she
remarked. "You must try to get in an extra half-hour's practice to-day,
so as to have the concerto better prepared. You really don't deserve
that he should give up his time to you."
"I'm rather scared at the prospect of going to his house," confessed
Mildred. "But I will have an extra tussle with the concerto to-night. I
hope he won't ask to see the tea verses."
At five minutes to nine on the following morning, Mildred walked into
Miss Cartwright's study, and tendered an explanation of her absence the
afternoon before, together with an apology for her behaviour.
"It was a hard case, I own," said the Principal. "But why did you not
come at once to me, and ask leave? If I pass over it, you must not let
this prove a precedent, Mildred. It would never do for girls to walk out
of school just when they like."
"I know. I ought to have come and asked. But somehow I never thought of
it. I was in such a hurry, I could do nothing but rush home for the
papers. I'll never do it again, Miss Cartwright, on my honour."
"Very well; as you have told me of it yourself, and apologized, I'll say
no more about it. You can go."
Mildred passed from the study, congratulating herself that she had
escaped so easily. She told her thrilling story to the other members of
the syndicate, and they rejoiced together that the competition was
received in time.
"When shall we hear the result?" asked Myrtle.
"Not for weeks, I expect. Besides, I don't really suppose that anything
will come of it," returned Mildred.