Now when it became noised abroad that the new teacher wanted above all
things to purchase a piano, and that to that end she was getting up a
wonderful Shakespeare play in which the scholars were to act upon a
stage set with tree boughs after the manner of some new kind of players,
the whole community round about began to be excited.
Mrs. Tanner talked much about it. Was not Bud to be a prominent
character? Mr. Tanner talked about it everywhere he went. The mothers
and fathers and sisters talked about it, and the work of preparing the
play went on.
Margaret had discovered that one of the men at the bunk-house played a
flute, and she was working hard to teach him and Fiddling Boss and
Croaker to play a portion of the elfin dance to accompany the players.
The work of making costumes and training the actors became more and more
strenuous, and in this Gardley proved a fine assistant. He undertook to
train some of the older boys for their parts, and did it so well that he
was presently in the forefront of the battle of preparation and working
almost as hard as Margaret herself.
The beauty of the whole thing was that every boy in the school adored
him, even Jed and Timothy, and life took on a different aspect to them
in company with this high-born college-bred, Eastern young man who yet
could ride and shoot with the daringest among the Westerners.
Far and wide went forth the fame of the play that was to be. The news of
it reached to the fort and the ranches, and brought offers of assistance
and costumes and orders for tickets. Margaret purchased a small
duplicator and set her school to printing tickets and selling them, and
before the play was half ready to be acted tickets enough were sold for
two performances, and people were planning to come from fifty miles
around. The young teacher began to quake at the thought of her big
audience and her poor little amateur players; and yet for children they
were doing wonderfully well, and were growing quite Shakespearian in
their manner of conversation.
"What say you, sweet Amanda?" would be a form of frequent address to
that stolid maiden Amanda Bounds; and Jed, instead of shouting for
"Delicate" at recess, as in former times, would say, "My good Timothy, I
swear to thee by Cupid's strongest bow; by his best arrow with the
golden head"--until all the school-yard rang with classic phrases; and
the whole country round was being addressed in phrases of another
century by the younger members of their households.
Then Rosa Rogers's father one day stopped at the Tanners' and left a
contribution with the teacher of fifty dollars toward the new piano; and
after that it was rumored that the teacher said the piano could be sent
for in time to be used at the play. Then other contributions of smaller
amounts came in, and before the date of the play had been set there was
money enough to make a first payment on the piano. That day the English
exercise for the whole school was to compose the letter to the Eastern
piano firm where the piano was to be purchased, ordering it to be sent
on at once. Weeks before this Margaret had sent for a number of piano
catalogues beautifully illustrated, showing by cuts how the whole
instruments were made, with full illustrations of the factories where
they were manufactured, and she had discussed the selection with the
scholars, showing them what points were to be considered in selecting a
good piano. At last the order was sent out, the actual selection itself
to be made by a musical friend of Margaret's in New York, and the school
waited in anxious suspense to hear that it had started on its way.
The piano arrived at last, three weeks before the time set for the play,
which was coming on finely now and seemed to the eager scholars quite
ready for public performance. Not so to Margaret and Gardley, as daily
they pruned, trained, and patiently went over and over again each part,
drawing all the while nearer to the ideal they had set. It could not be
done perfectly, of course, and when they had done all they could there
would yet be many crudities; but Margaret's hope was to bring out the
meaning of the play and give both audience and performers the true idea
of what Shakespeare meant when he wrote it.
The arrival of the piano was naturally a great event in the school. For
three days in succession the entire school marched in procession down to
the incoming Eastern train to see if their expected treasure had
arrived, and when at last it was lifted from the freight-car and set
upon the station platform the school stood awe-struck and silent, with
half-bowed heads and bated breath, as though at the arrival of some
great and honorable guest.
They attended it on the roadside as it was carted by the biggest wagon
in town to the school-house door; they stood in silent rows while the
great box was peeled off and the instrument taken out and carried into
the school-room; then they filed in soulfully and took their accustomed
seats without being told, touching shyly the shining case as they
passed. By common consent they waited to hear its voice for the first
time. Margaret took the little key from the envelope tied to the frame,
unlocked the cover, and, sitting down, began to play. The rough men who
had brought it stood in awesome adoration around the platform; the
silence that spread over that room would have done honor to Paderewski
or Josef Hoffman.
Margaret played and played, and they could not hear enough. They would
have stayed all night listening, perhaps, so wonderful was it to them.
And then the teacher called each one and let him or her touch a few
chords, just to say they had played on it. After which she locked the
instrument and sent them all home. That was the only afternoon during
that term that the play was forgotten for a while.
After the arrival of the piano the play went forward with great
strides, for now Margaret accompanied some of the parts with the music,
and the flute and violin were also practised in their elfin dance with
much better effect. It was about this time that Archie Forsythe
discovered the rehearsals and offered his assistance, and, although it
was declined, he frequently managed to ride over about rehearsal time,
finding ways to make himself useful in spite of Margaret's polite
refusals. Margaret always felt annoyed when he came, because Rosa Rogers
instantly became another creature on his arrival, and because Gardley
simply froze into a polite statue, never speaking except when spoken to.
As for Forsythe, his attitude toward Gardley was that of a contemptuous
master toward a slave, and yet he took care to cover it always with a
form of courtesy, so that Margaret could say or do nothing to show her
displeasure, except to be grave and dignified. At such times Rosa
Rogers's eyes would be upon her with a gleam of hatred, and the teacher
felt that the scholar was taking advantage of the situation. Altogether
it was a trying time for Margaret when Forsythe came to the
school-house. Also, he discovered to them that he played the violin, and
offered to assist in the orchestral parts. Margaret really could think
of no reason to decline this offer, but she was sadly upset by the whole
thing. His manner to her was too pronounced, and she felt continually
uncomfortable under it, what with Rosa Rogers's jealous eyes upon her
and Gardley's eyes turned haughtily away.
She planned a number of special rehearsals in the evenings, when it was
difficult for Forsythe to get there, and managed in this way to avoid
his presence; but the whole matter became a source of much vexation, and
Margaret even shed a few tears wearily into her pillow one night when
things had gone particularly hard and Forsythe had hurt the feelings of
Fiddling Boss with his insolent directions about playing. She could not
say or do anything much in the matter, because the Temples had been very
kind in helping to get the piano, and Mr. Temple seemed to think he was
doing the greatest possible kindness to her in letting Forsythe off duty
so much to help with the play. The matter became more and more of a
distress to Margaret, and the Sabbath was the only day of real delight.
The first Sunday after the arrival of the piano was a great day.
Everybody in the neighborhood turned out to the Sunday-afternoon class
and vesper service, which had been growing more and more in popularity,
until now the school-room was crowded. Every man from the bunk-house
came regularly, often including Pop Wallis, who had not yet recovered
fully from the effect of his wife's new bonnet and fluffy arrangement of
hair, but treated her like a lady visitor and deferred to her absolutely
when he was at home. He wasn't quite sure even yet but he had strayed by
mistake into the outermost courts of heaven and ought to get shooed out.
He always looked at the rose-wreathed curtains with a mingling of pride
and awe.
Margaret had put several hymns on the blackboard in clear, bold
printing, and the singing that day was wonderful. Not the least part of
the service was her own playing over of the hymns before the singing
began, which was listened to with reverence as if it had been the music
of an angel playing on a heavenly harp.
Gardley always came to the Sunday services, and helped her with the
singing, and often they two sang duets together.
The service was not always of set form. Usually Margaret taught a short
Bible lesson, beginning with the general outline of the Bible, its
books, their form, substance, authors, etc.--all very brief and
exceedingly simple, putting a wide space of music between this and the
vesper service, into which she wove songs, bits of poems, passages from
the Bible, and often a story which she told dramatically, illustrating
the scripture read.
But the very Sunday before the play, just the time Margaret had looked
forward to as being her rest from all the perplexities of the week, a
company from the fort, including the Temples, arrived at the
school-house right in the midst of the Bible lesson.
The ladies were daintily dressed, and settled their frills and ribbons
amusedly as they watched the embarrassed young teacher trying to forget
that there was company present. They were in a distinct sense "company,"
for they had the air, as they entered, of having come to look on and be
amused, not to partake in the worship with the rest.
Margaret found herself trembling inwardly as she saw the supercilious
smile on the lips of Mrs. Temple and the amused stares of the other
ladies of the party. They did not take any notice of the other people
present any more than if they had been so many puppets set up to show
off the teacher; their air of superiority was offensive. Not until Rosa
Rogers entered with her father, a little later, did they condescend to
bow in recognition, and then with that pretty little atmosphere as if
they would say, "Oh, you've come, too, to be amused."
Gardley was sitting up in front, listening to her talk, and she thought
he had not noticed the strangers. Suddenly it came to her to try to keep
her nerve and let him see that they were nothing to her; and with a
strong effort and a swift prayer for help she called for a hymn. She sat
coolly down at the piano, touching the keys with a tender chord or two
and beginning to sing almost at once. She had sent home for some old
hymn-books from the Christian Endeavor Society in her father's church,
so the congregation were supplied with the notes and words now, and
everybody took part eagerly, even the people from the fort
condescendingly joining in.
But Gardley was too much alive to every expression on that vivid face of
Margaret's to miss knowing that she was annoyed and upset. He did not
need to turn and look back to immediately discover the cause. He was a
young person of keen intuition. It suddenly gave him great satisfaction
to see that look of consternation on Margaret's face. It settled for him
a question he had been in great and anxious doubt about, and his soul
was lifted up with peace within him. When, presently, according to
arrangement, he rose to sing a duet with Margaret, no one could have
possibly told by so much as the lifting of an eyelash that he knew there
was an enemy of his in the back of the room. He sang, as did Margaret,
to the immediate audience in front of him, those admiring children and
adoring men in the forefront who felt the school-house had become for
them the gate of heaven for the time being; and he sang with marvelous
feeling and sympathy, letting out his voice at its best.
"Really," said Mrs. Temple, in a loud whisper to the wife of one of the
officers, "that young man has a fine voice, and he isn't bad-looking,
either. I think he'd be worth cultivating. We must have him up and try
him out."
But when she repeated this remark in another stage whisper to Forsythe
he frowned haughtily.
The one glimpse Margaret caught of Forsythe during that afternoon's
service was when he was smiling meaningly at Rosa Rogers; and she had to
resolutely put the memory of their look from her mind or the story which
she was about to tell would have fled.
It was the hunger in Jasper Kemp's eyes that finally anchored Margaret's
thoughts and helped her to forget the company at the back of the room.
She told her story, and she told it wonderfully and with power,
interpreting it now and then for the row of men who sat in the center of
the room drinking in her every word; and when the simple service was
concluded with another song, in which Gardley's voice rang forth with
peculiar tenderness and strength, the men filed forth silently,
solemnly, with bowed heads and thoughtful eyes. But the company from the
fort flowed up around Margaret like flood-tide let loose and gushed upon
her.
"Oh, my dear!" said Mrs. Temple. "How beautifully you do it! And such
attention as they give you! No wonder you are willing to forego all
other amusements to stay here and preach! But it was perfectly sweet the
way you made them listen and the way you told that story. I don't see
how you do it. I'd be scared to death!"
They babbled about her awhile, much to her annoyance, for there were
several people to whom she had wanted to speak, who drew away and
disappeared when the new-comers took possession of her. At last,
however, they mounted and rode away, to her great relief. Forsythe, it
is true, tried to make her go home with them; tried to escort her to the
Tanners'; tried to remain in the school-house with her awhile when she
told him she had something to do there; but she would not let him, and
he rode away half sulky at the last, a look of injured pride upon his
face.
Margaret went to the door finally, and looked down the road. He was
gone, and she was alone. A shade of sadness came over her face. She was
sorry that Gardley had not waited. She had wanted to tell him how much
she liked his singing, what a pleasure it was to sing with him, and how
glad she was that he came up to her need so well with the strangers
there and helped to make it easy. But Gardley had melted away as soon as
the service was over, and had probably gone home with the rest of the
men. It was disappointing, for she had come to consider their little
time together on Sunday as a very pleasant hour, this few minutes after
the service when they would talk about real living and the vital things
of existence. But he was gone!
She turned, and there he was, quite near the door, coming toward her.
Her face lighted up with a joy that was unmistakable, and his own smile
in answer was a revelation of his deeper self.
"Oh, I'm so glad you are not gone!" she said, eagerly. "I wanted to tell
you--" And then she stopped, and the color flooded her face rosily, for
she saw in his eyes how glad he was and forgot to finish her sentence.
He came up gravely, after all, and, standing just a minute so beside the
door, took both her hands in both his. It was only for a second that he
stood so, looking down into her eyes. I doubt if either of them knew
till afterward that they had been holding hands. It seemed the right and
natural thing to do, and meant so much to each of them. Both were glad
beyond their own understanding over that moment and its tenderness.
It was all very decorous, and over in a second, but it meant much to
remember afterward, that look and hand-clasp.
"I wanted to tell you," he said, tenderly, "how much that story did for
me. It was wonderful, and it helped me to decide something I have been
perplexed over--"
"Oh, I am glad!" she said, half breathlessly.
So, talking in low, broken sentences, they went back to the piano and
tried over several songs for the next Sunday, lingering together, just
happy to be there with each other, and not half knowing the significance
of it all. As the purple lights on the school-room wall grew long and
rose-edged, they walked slowly to the Tanner house and said good night.
There was a beauty about the young man as he stood for a moment looking
down upon the girl in parting, the kind of beauty there is in any
strong, wild thing made tame and tender for a great love by a great
uplift. Gardley had that look of self-surrender, and power made
subservient to right, that crowns a man with strength and more than
physical beauty. In his fine face there glowed high purpose, and deep
devotion to the one who had taught it to him. Margaret, looking up at
him, felt her heart go out with that great love, half maiden, half
divine, that comes to some favored women even here on earth, and she
watched him down the road toward the mountain in the evening light and
marveled how her trust had grown since first she met him; marveled and
reflected that she had not told her mother and father much about him
yet. It was growing time to do so; yes--_it was growing time_! Her
cheeks grew pink in the darkness and she turned and fled to her room.
That was the last time she saw him before the play.