Part 35 (1/2)
The first week of September school opened, cla.s.ses enrolled, and the business of learning again got under way. By the second week the various offshoots of educational life began to sprout, and notices were posted of the annual elections of the two ”literary societies,” Iolanthe and Mount Parna.s.sus. The ”programmes” of these bodies were held in the auditorium every other Friday, and each pupil was due for at least one performance a semester. Missy, who was an Iolanthian, generally chose to render a piano solo or an original essay. But everybody in school did that much--they had to--and only a few rose to the estate of being ”officers.”
The Iolanthians had two tickets up for election: the scholastic, headed by Beulah Crosswhite for president, and an opposition framed by some boys who complained that the honours always went to girls and that it was time men's rights were recognized. The latter faction put up Raymond Bonner as their candidate. Raymond was as handsome and gay as Beulah Crosswhite was learned.
It was a notable fight. When the day of election arrived, the Chemistry room in which the Iolanthians were gathered was electric with restrained excitement. On the first ballot Raymond and Beulah stood even. There was a second ballot--a third--a fourth. And still the deadlock, the atmosphere of tensity growing more vibrant every second. Finally a group of boys put their heads together. Then Raymond Bonner arose.
”In view of the deadlock which it seems impossible to break,” he began, in the rather stilted manner which befits such a.s.semblages, ”I propose that we put up a subst.i.tute candidate. I propose the name of Miss Melissa Merriam.”
Oh, dear heaven! For a second Missy was afraid she was going to cry--she didn't know why. But she caught Raymond's eye on her, smiling encouragement, and she mistily glowed back at him. And on the very first vote she was elected. Yes. Miss Melissa Merriam was president of Iolanthe. She was prominent.
And Raymond? Of course Raymond had been prominent before, though she had never noticed it, and now he had helped her up to this n.o.ble elevation!
He must think she would adorn it. Adorn!--it was a lovely word that Missy had just captured. Though she had achieved her eminence by a fluke.
Missy took fortune at the flood like one born for success. She mazed the whole school world by a meteoric display of unsuspected capacities.
Herself she amazed most of all; she felt as if she were making the acquaintance of a stranger, an increasingly fascinating kind of stranger. How wonderful to find herself perusing over a ”meeting”
from the teacher's desk in the Latin room, or over a ”programme” in the auditorium, with calm and superior dignity!
Missy, aflame with a new fire, was not content with the old hackneyed variety of ”programme.” It was she who conceived the idea of giving the first minstrel show ever presented upon the auditorium boards. It is a tribute to Missy's persuasiveness when at white heat that the faculty permitted the show to go beyond its first rehearsal. The rehearsals Missy personally conducted, with Raymond aiding as her first lieutenant-and he would not have played second fiddle like that to another girl in the cla.s.s-he said so. She herself chose the cast, contrived the ”scenery”; and she and Raymond together wrote the dialogue and lyrics. It was wonderful how they could do things together! Missy felt she never could get into such a glow and find such lovely rhymes popping right up in her mind if she were working alone. And Raymond said the same. It was very strange. It was as if a mystic bond fired them both with new talents-Missy looked on mixed metaphors as objectionable only to Professor Sutton.
Her reputation-and Raymond's-soared, soared. Her literary talent placed her on a much higher plane than if she were merely ”smart”-made her in the most perfect sense ”prominent.”
After the minstrel triumph it was no surprise when, at cla.s.s elections, Melissa Merriam became president of the Juniors. A few months before Missy would have been overwhelmed at the turn of things, but now she casually mounted her new height, with a.s.surance supreme. It was as though always had the name of Melissa Merriam been a force. Raymond said no one else had a look-in.
At the end of the term prominence brought its reward: Missy failed in Geometry and was conditioned in Latin. Father looked grave over her report card.
”This is pretty bad, isn't it?” he asked.
Missy fidgeted. It gave her a guilty feeling to bring that expression to her indulgent father's face.
”I'm sorry, father. I know I'm not smart, but-” She hesitated.
Father took off his gla.s.ses and thoughtfully regarded her.
”I wasn't complaining of your not being 'smart'--'smart' people are often pests. The trouble's that this is worse than it's ever been.
And today I got a letter from Professor Sutton. He says you evince no interest whatever in your work.”
Missy felt a little indignant flare within her.
”He knows what responsibilities I have!”
”Responsibilities?” repeated father.
Here mother, who had been sitting quietly by, also with a disapproving expression, entered the discussion:
”I knew all that Iolanthe and cla.s.s flummery would get her into trouble.”
Flummery!
Missy's voice quavered. ”That's a very important part of school life, mother! Cla.s.s spirit and all--you don't understand!” ”I suppose parents are seldom able to keep up with the understanding of their children,”
replied mother, with unfamiliar sarcasm. ”However, right here's where I presume to set my foot down. If you fail again, in the spring examinations, you'll have to study and make it up this summer. You can't go with Aunt Isabel.”