MISS ASHTON'S FRIDAY NIGHT.
Miss Ashton, a little timid from the use made of the liberty she had
given for the Friday night entertainments, decided for a time to take
the control of them into her own hands, and as something novel, that
might be entertaining, she proposed that the school should prepare
original papers, to be read aloud, the reading to be followed by "a
spread" given by the Faculty. She made no suggestion with regard to
the character of the papers to be sent in, other than to say that she
knew very well there were some good writers in the school, and she
should expect every one to do her best.
This proposal was gladly accepted. The girls clapped when she had
finished, and some began to stamp noisily, but this a motion of the
principal's hand checked.
There began at once to be conjectures as to whose piece would be the
best. Nine-tenths of the girls agreed it would be Kate Underwood, the
other tenth were for Delia Williams, who, when she tried for an honor,
seldom failed to secure it; and hadn't she once written a piece on
Robert Browning, of which not a scholar could understand a word, but
which, it was reported, Miss Ashton said "was excellent, showing rare
appreciation of the merits of a great poet"?
One thing was certain, there was hardly a girl in school who had not,
before going to bed that night, wandered around in her dazed thoughts
for some subject upon which she could write in a way that would
surprise every one.
Lilly White, the dunce of the school, had hers written by the
beginning of study hours. It covered three pages of foolscap paper,
and had at least the merit of being written on only one side.
Among the few books Marion Parke had brought from her Western home,
was an old magazine, printed by a Yale College club, and edited by her
father when he was a member of the college.
This had in it one short story suggested by the West Rock at New
Haven. In this rock was a rough cave, and here, tradition said, the
regicides Goff and Whalley hid themselves from pursuit, after the
murder of Charles I. The story was well told, not holding too
rigorously to facts, but at the same time faithful enough to real
incidents to make it not only interesting but valuable.
These were tender and touching scenes of a wife and a betrothed, who,
through dangers of discovery and arrest, carried food and papers to
the fugitives.
The story had always been a great favorite of Marion's. One day when
she felt homesick she had taken it out, read it, and left it on the
top of her table, under her Bible. Being very busy afterwards, and
consequently the homesickness gone, she did not think of it again; she
did not even notice that it had been abstracted from the table and
another magazine, similar in appearance, put in its place.
If Miss Ashton had foreseen the deep interest the school were taking
in the proposed entertainment, she might have hesitated to propose it.
The truth was, it took the first place; studies became of secondary
importance. "What subjects had been chosen for the pieces? how they
were to be treated? how they progressed? how they would be received?"
These were the questions asked and answered, often under promise of
secrecy, sometimes with an open bravado amusing to see.
It was a relief to all the teachers when the Friday night came. The
girls in gala dress crowded early into the hall; Miss Ashton and the
teachers, also in full dress, followed them soon; and five minutes
before the time appointed for the opening of the evening entertainment
the hush of expectation made the room almost painfully still.
Miss Ashton had requested that the pieces should be sent in to her the
previous day. She had been surprised more at their number than their
excellence, indeed, there was but one that did not, on the whole,
disappoint her; that one delighted her.
She intended to read, not the best only, but the poorest, thinking,
perhaps, as good a lesson as could come to the careless or the
incapable would come from that sure touchstone of the value of any
writing,--its public reception.
The names were to be concealed; that had been understood from the
beginning, yet, with the exception of Kate Underwood, who was more
used to the public of their small world than any of the others, there
was not a girl there who had not a touch of stage fright, either on
her own account, or on that of her "dearest friend."
There were essays on friendship, love, generosity, jealousy,
integrity, laziness, hope, charity, punctuality, scholarship,
meanness. On youth, old age, marriage, courtship, engagement,
housekeeping, housework, the happiness of childhood, the sorrows of
childhood, truth, falsehood, religion, missionary work, the poor, the
duties of the rich, houses of charity, the tariff, the Republican
party, the Democratic party, woman's suffrage, which profession was
best adapted to a woman, servants, trades' unions, strikes,
sewing-women, shop-girls, newspaper boys, street gamins, the blind,
the deaf and dumb, idiots, Queen Victoria and the coming Republican
party into the government of England, the bloated aristocracy,
American girls as European brides, the cruelty of the Russian
government, Catholic religion, Stanley as a hero, Kane's Arctic
adventures.
Miss Ashton had made a list of these subjects as she looked over the
essays, and when she read them aloud, the school burst into a peal of
laughter.
She said, "I cannot, in our limited time, read all of these to you. I
will give you your choice, but first, let me tell you what remains.
There are six poems of four and five pages length. The subjects
are:--
"The Lost Naiad; Bertram's Lament; Cowper at the Grave of His Mother;
A New Thanatopsis; Ode to Silence; Love's Farewell.
"I promise you," she said, "you shall have these, if nothing more."
A slight approbatory clapping, and she went on:--
"If I am to read you the titles of the stories I have on my desk, it
will go far into the alloted time for these exercises; but, as some of
you may think they would be the most interesting part, I will give you
your choice. Those in favor, please hold up their hands."
Almost every girl's hand in school was raised, so Miss Ashton went
on:--
"Bob Allen's Resolve; The Old Moss Gatherer; Lady Jane Grey's
Adventure; The Brave Engineer; How We didn't Ascend Mt. Blanc; Nancy
Todd's Revenge; Little Lady Gabrielle; Sam the Boot-black; Christmas
Eve; Thanksgiving at Dunmoore; New Year at Whitty Lodge; Poor Loo
Grant; Jenkins, the Mill Owner; Studyhard School; Storied West Rock;
Phil, the Hero; How Phebe Won Her Place; Norman McGreggor on his
Native Heath; Our Parsonage; How Ben Fought a Prairie Fire; The
Sorrows of Mrs. McCarthy.
"These are all," and Miss Ashton laughed a merry laugh as she turned
over the pile. "I am much obliged to you for your ready and full
answer to my proposal. If I am a little disappointed at the literary
character of some of the work, I am, as I have said, pleased by your
ready response. If I should attempt to read them all, we should be
here at a late hour, and lose our spread, so I will give you the
poems, as I promised, and as many of the essays and stories as I can
crowd into the time previous to nine o'clock."
Miss Bent, who was the teacher of elocution, now stepped forward, and
out of a pile separated from the larger one of manuscripts took up and
read the six poems; then followed, in rapid succession, essays and
stories, until at ten minutes before nine, the school having evidently
heard all they wished with the spread in prospect, Miss Ashton
said,--
"I have reserved the best--by far the best--of all these contributions
for the last. Miss Bent will now read to you 'Storied West Rock!'"
Miss Bent began immediately, and though the hands of the clock crept
on to fifteen minutes past nine, not a girl there watched them; all
were intent on the absorbing interest of the story.
When it was finished, Miss Bent said, "This is so excellent that I
feel fully justified in departing from the promise Miss Ashton made
you, that your pieces should not have the name of the writer given;
with her leave, it gives me great pleasure to say, this touching and
excellently written story was composed by one of our own seniors,
Susan Downer."
"Three cheers for Susan Downer!" cried Kate Underwood, springing from
her seat; and if ever boys in any finishing school gave cheers with
greater gusto, they would have been well worth hearing. Even Susan
found herself cheering as noisily as the rest, and would not have
known it, if Dorothy, her face radiant with delight, had not stopped
her.
Then followed the spread, "the pleasantest and the best one that was
ever given in Montrose Academy," the girls all said.