VIII THE CHAPLET OF HONOR
As soon as June had fairly dawned upon the calendar, the girls of MissWhittier's school began to prepare for closing day.
It was customary to give an evening entertainment, in which all thepupils took part.
"This year," Miss Whittier announced to the class, "I have a verydelightful plan, of which I will now tell you. It is not exactly a play,but a little staged allegory which I am sure you will all think veryattractive."
Betty listened eagerly, for "staged allegory" sounded rather dry andpoky, and yet it might turn out to be fun after all.
"Sounds like 'Pilgrim's Progress,'" whispered Dorothy, who sat next her,and Betty's imagination immediately saw all the girls with packs on theirbacks, climbing the Hill of Difficulty. But Miss Whittier went on toreveal her plan.
"It is called 'Honor Chaplet,'" she said, "and it represents all thewomen who have done praiseworthy deeds presenting their claims for theChaplet of Honor, which is to be awarded to the one who best merits it.Of course the characters represent women of all time who have becomefamous for great deeds or noble efforts."
Betty's head gave a nod of satisfaction. The whole plan appealed to her,for it meant "dressing up," and she dearly loved to wear fancy costumes.
"We will have a pretty stage," said Miss Whittier, who on occasions likethis talked sociably with her pupils, "and I'm sure you will all bewilling to help with the work of decorating it."
"Yes, indeed," and "We will," said the girls, and then Constance Harperasked:
"Who are the characters, Miss Whittier? Will you tell us now?"
Reading from some papers she held, Miss Whittier named about thirtycelebrated women, including Cleopatra, Queen Elizabeth, Pocahontas, GraceDarling, Florence Nightingale, Isabella of Spain, Joan of Arc, QueenVictoria, Barbara Frietchie, Rosa Bonheur, and many others well known tohistory or tradition.
"I think," she went on, "you may each select the character you prefer.If, by chance, two choose the same one, we can easily adjust mattersafterward. I will distribute papers, and you may each write your ownname, followed by the character you choose."
"While we're doing that, won't you tell us a little more about the play,Miss Whittier?" said Dorothy Bates.
"The plot, if it can be called a plot, is simple. One girl must representthe Goddess of Honor. She will stand on a pedestal, and hear the claimsof the various celebrities. She will wear a classic costume, and willhave a chaplet of bay to bestow on the successful one. She will beattended by four allegorical figures, representing War and Peace, Art andWisdom. These girls will also wear classic draperies, and look as much aspossible like statues. The other characters will, of course, wearcostumes suited to their personalities."
"And is there any dialogue?" asked another pupil.
"Yes; each character makes a short speech, setting forth her claims tohonor and glory. This seems a little ostentatious," Miss Whittier smiled,"but that is the way the play is written. Then, finally, the Goddessawards the chaplet to the one she deems most worthy."
"And which one is that?" asked Betty.
"I won't tell that yet," said Miss Whittier, smiling; "I'll not divulgethat secret until you have all chosen your parts, for, naturally, youwould each desire the one who will receive this crown."
This seemed sensible to Betty, and she began to consider what part shewould like to take.
Miss Whittier had a full list of names written on the blackboard, thatall might see them, and Betty studied them with care.
The four allegorical figures did not appeal to her at all. It would be nofun to stand, perhaps on a pedestal, draped about with Greek togas, orwhatever statues wore, and not even a red sash by way of coloring!
The Goddess of Honor was, of course, the most desirable, and Betty almostdecided to write that against her name. But, she reflected, it wasdoubtful if Miss Whittier would think her well suited for that. A goddessought to be tall and fair and statuesque, and Betty was anything butthat. Her round Irish face and somewhat tilted nose and rosy cheeks werefar from classic in type. And, anyhow, probably some one else wouldchoose that one who would be much better fitted for the part. So Bettycarefully considered the other names. Pocahontas and Queen Elizabeth bothattracted her. She did not look particularly like an Indian maiden, noryet like an English queen, but as she glanced around the room, she saw noone that looked more so than she; at least, no one looked like QueenElizabeth, though some of the slim, straight-haired girls might make abetter Indian.
But, as she gazed, Betty decided that looks would not have much to dowith it. The girls must depend on their costumes to represent thecharacter they assumed.
And so Betty hesitated between the two she liked.
Queen Elizabeth would be grand! In fancy, she saw herself in a stiff,quilted satin petticoat, and long, heavy train of crimson velvet, edgedwith ermine; a huge ruff round her neck, and a gorgeous gilt crown! Thiswould be fine. Yet there was something very attractive about the idea ofPocahontas; an Indian costume trimmed with gay fringes and beads; leatherleggings, and tall quill-feathers sticking up round her head; a bow andarrow, perhaps, and a quiver slung from one shoulder! Yes, it wasenticing, but the Queen's costume was grander and even more enticing incolor and glitter. So Betty wrote her own name, and then wrote "QueenElizabeth" below it, and the papers were all gathered up.
Miss Whittier dismissed the girls then, and said she would tell themdefinitely the next day what character each should have, and, moreover,she asked them not to tell any one about the entertainment, nor to telleach other what role they had chosen. So, as the girls were conscientiousin these matters, they did not tell each other what parts they wished totake, but many and eager discussions were held about the details of thegreat occasion.
Betty told her mother of the choice she had made, as the pledge ofsecrecy did not include mothers.
Mrs. McGuire smiled at the idea of Betty robed as Queen Elizabeth, butshe said:
"Well, at any rate, you look quite as much like Elizabeth as any of theother girls. And we'll fix up a fine costume for you. I'll find a pictureof the Queen in her most gorgeous robes, and we'll have it copied asnearly as possible."
"And I must have a lot of jewels!" said Betty, clasping her handsecstatically at the thought of such grandeur.
"Yes," said Mrs. McGuire; "you may wear my necklace, and perhaps Grandmawill lend you some large old-fashioned brooches. I think we need not beso very particular as to their being really of the Elizabethan period."
"Oh, no; any glittery things will do. I think we ought to try somenecklaces of big imitation gems."
"Perhaps we shall! At any rate, we'll copy the picture as nearly as wecan."
"And it will be a gorgeous costume, won't it? Oh, I'm glad now I didn'tchoose Pocahontas!"
"What sort of speech do you have to make, Betty?"
"I don't know, Mother. Miss Whittier has them, all type-written, and shewill give them to us soon, she said. But I'll not have any trouble tolearn it. I can learn things to recite so easily."
"Yes, your memory is wonderful. And I suppose one of the teachers willtrain you."
"Yes, in gestures and expression. Oh, Mother, won't it be fun?"
"Yes, girlie? I know it's just the sort of fun you like."
"Oh, I do; I'll walk like this." Catching up her slumber-robe from thecouch, Betty held it from her shoulders like a court train, and walkedacross the room with stiff, stagy strides, holding her head very high.
"Hello, your Majesty, what are you doing?" said Jack, appearing at thedoor.
"Good for you, Jack!" cried Betty; "I'm pleased that you should haverecognized what was meant for a queenly gait. I'm Queen Elizabeth ofEngland."
"Pooh! You look more like the White Queen of Looking-Glass Land!"
"Well, maybe I do now; but just you wait till I get my velvet train andjeweled crown,--and, oh, Mother, shall I have a scepter?"
"Yes, I think that's part o
f the costume."
"Oh, what fun!" and seizing Jack, Betty waltzed him about the room by wayof expressing her glee.
"Hi, Betty, go slower!" he exclaimed breathlessly; "queens dance statelyminuets--they don't dance break-downs!"
"This queen does," said Betty, calmly, but she let Jack go, on conditionthat he would help her hunt the library for books containing pictures ofthe Queen.
Next day no mention was made of the entertainment until after lessonswere over. It was nearly time for dismissal when Miss Whittier summonedthe pupils to her in the assembly-room.
She looked at them in a little perplexity, and then she smiled.
"I did not foresee the result," she said, "when I asked you young ladiesto choose your parts for our little play. I thought that if two or eventhree should choose the same character we could readily arrange mattersby a little friendly discussion. But, to my surprise, when the paperswere looked over, this was the result: twelve girls have chosen theGoddess of Honor; nine have selected Pocahontas; seven want QueenElizabeth, and the others are scattering. Now, as you can readily see,this state of affairs requires arbitration. So I am obliged to tell youthat we must disregard your wishes, and assign the parts as we, theteachers, think best."
The girls laughed heartily when they realized how many of their numberhad asked for the most desirable part, that of Goddess of Honor, and theyagreed that, after all, the fairest way was for the teachers to assignthe parts, and then there could be no preference.
"And so," went on Miss Whittier, "I have prepared full directions foreach of you. Here are the envelopes for you all, and in your envelope youwill each find the name of the character you are to take, with fulldescription of costume, and a copy of the lines you are to learn torecite in the play. And please remember the appointments are final andunalterable." The envelopes were distributed, and each girl lookedeagerly inside to see what her part might be.
"You are dismissed," said Miss Whittier. "There is no further occasionfor secrecy, though I'm sure it will be better for the success of ourentertainment not to tell your friends who will be in the audience muchabout it beforehand."
"What's the matter, Betty?" said Dorothy, as, with Jeanette, they allstarted homeward. "You look as if you'd lost your last friend."
And truly Betty did look woebegone. Her cheeks were flushed with anger,her lips were drawn in a tight line, and her eyes already showed hints offlooding with tears.
"Look at that!" she exclaimed tragically, as she held out her papertoward the girls.
"'Grace Darling!'" read Dorothy. "Oh, Betty, you don't like your part, doyou?"
"Like it!" cried Betty; "read what the costume is!"
"'Simple sailor suit,'" read Dorothy, "'of dark-blue flannel, smallyachting-cap, or no hat at all. Carry an oar.' Why, that's a sweet littlecostume, Betty."
"Sweet little nothing!" cried Betty, stormily. "I don't want to wear acommon, every-day sailor suit! And carry an oar! Oh!"
"What did you want?" asked Jeanette.
"I wanted to be a goddess," said Betty, honestly. "But I didn't writethat, 'cause I was 'most sure Miss Whittier would rather have ayellow-haired girl for that. So I chose Queen Elizabeth, but I'd havebeen satisfied with Pocahontas. But Grace Darling! Oh, I think it'smean!"
"Why, Grace Darling was very noble and heroic," said Jeanette.
"Oh, of course. Grace Darling herself was wonderful. I just adore her!But I want to wear a pretty costume in the play--a grand one, you know,like a queen or something."
"Yes, I know," said Dorothy, sympathetically, for she well knew Betty'slove of bright colors and gay "dressing up." "I think it's a shame, too.Maybe Miss Whittier will let you change with me."
"No, she said we positively couldn't change our parts. And, anyhow, Iwouldn't take yours if it's nicer than mine. What is yours, Dot?"
"Queen Elizabeth," said Dorothy, feeling as mean as if she had beencaught in a wrong action.
Betty had to smile at Dorothy's contrite tone.
"Well," she said, "I'd rather you'd have it than any one else. Mother'lllend you her necklace, I know. What's yours, Jeanette?"
"Joan of Arc, and just the one I wanted."
"That's nice," said Betty. "I'm glad you got it. But, oh, girls, I wish Ihad a pretty one. If I'd only had Priscilla or Cleopatra, or anybody thatwore pretty things! But 'a simple sailor suit!'"
"It's too mean for anything!" declared Dorothy; "it takes the fun out ofthe whole thing."
"Oh, no; it isn't so bad as that," said Betty, smiling through hergathering tears. "I s'pose I'll get over my disappointment. And I'm sillyto care so much, anyhow. What's Constance?"
"She's the Goddess," said Dorothy, reluctantly, for this seemed to addanother straw to Betty's burden of woe.
"I'm glad of it," said Betty, generously. "She'll be a lovely goddess,she's so pretty and graceful. Well, let me help you girls with yourcostumes, as long as I haven't any of my own to fuss over. I can get aninexpensive, 'simple sailor suit' ready-made."
Betty turned in at her own gate, and after their good-bys the other girlswent on.
"It's just horrid," said Dorothy; "I know how bad Betty feels about it,and I'm going to ask Miss Whittier to change it somehow."
"She won't do it," said Jeanette; "I wish she would, but I know she'llsay if she changes one she'll have to change others, and it'll be aregular mix-up."
And that's just what Miss Whittier did say, though in different words.
"No, my dear," she said kindly, but decidedly, when Dorothy told herabout it. "I'm sorry Betty is disappointed, but several of the girls havealready asked to change their parts, and I've been obliged to say 'no' toeach; so of course I can't make an exception in favor of Betty."
This settled it, and Betty accepted her fate, outwardly with a goodgrace, but secretly with a rebellious heart.
"It's such a mistake," she said to her mother, "for girls like Kate Aldenand May Jennings would _like_ to have only simple costumes to prepare.And they have to rig up as Martha Washington and Mary, Queen of Scots!Either of them would rather have Grace Darling, and only have to get a'simple sailor suit!'"
"It _is_ too bad, Betty dear," said her mother; "I'm just as sorry as Ican be. But I can't see any help for it, so we must submit."
"Yes; I know it, and I'm not going to growl about it any more. But itdoes make me mad!"
Betty kicked a footstool, as if to relieve her overburdened feelings, andthen laughed at herself for her foolishness.
She learned her lines carefully, determined to do her part as well as shecould, if her dress was plain and inconspicuous.
Her speech was full of brave and noble thoughts, and Betty practised itoften, and observed conscientiously her teacher's instructions as toinflections and gestures. It was easy for Betty to learn by heart; soeasy, indeed, that she unconsciously learned most of the other girls'speeches by merely hearing them at rehearsals.
Often she would amuse her mother and Jack by breaking forth into some ofthe stilted lines of the play.
"I am Pocahontas," she would say, striking an attitude of what sheconsidered Indian effect; "I claim the prize, Goddess, because I, inyears that are past, rendered a service----"
"There, there, that will do, Betty!" Jack would cry. "You are a bornactress, I know, but I'm studying my English history now, and Pocahontasdoesn't belong with the Saxon kings."
"Oh, English history!" said Betty, mischievously.
Then, stalking grandly up to him, she held an umbrella for a scepter, anddeclaimed:
"Goddess of Honor! You see before you Elizabeth, the Virgin Queen. Anoble monarch, not alone in power, but in majestic traits that won forher the loyalty and adoration of her loved and loving subjects. A queenwho----"
"Off with her head!" cried Jack, throwing a sofa-pillow at Betty, whopromptly threw it back at him, and then ran laughing from the room.
It was not Betty's way to mourn over what couldn't be helped, so she wentcheerfully with her mother to purchase the despised sailor
suit. Theybought the prettiest one they could find--a blue serge with white collarand cuffs and a silk sailor tie. But though it was becoming and wouldhave looked just right had Betty been starting on a yachting cruise, itwas not to be compared with the elaborate costumes most of the girls werepreparing. And, though it was cold comfort, Betty was true to her word,and helped the others all she could to make their gowns effective. Shelent her Roman sash, her embroidered Japanese kimono, and her spangledEgyptian scarf to girls who could use them effectively. She helpedDorothy with her Elizabethan garb, and Jeanette with her Joan of Arccostume.
As for the Goddess, Constance had a most resplendent robe. It was of softwhite shimmering stuff dotted all over with gilt spangles. Billows ofthis material fell from her shoulders in long, graceful folds, and sweptaway in a rippling train. A high crown of golden filigree-work was to beworn on her beautiful, fair hair, and while in one hand she was to hold aclassic scroll, in the other she was to carry aloft a long, slender, gilttrumpet. The costume was superb, and almost took Betty's breath away whenshe first saw it.
"Oh, Constance," she said, "let me try it on, do! Just for a minute! I'llbe awfully careful of it."
Constance agreed, of course, though she secretly feared that impetuousBetty might tear the gauzy stuff.
But Betty donned it almost reverently, and then, imitating Constance'spose, as she had seen her at rehearsal, she began:
"The Goddess of Honor I! To those who seek me I am hard to win. To thosewho nobly and unflinchingly do their bravest and best, I come unsummoned!I am here to-night, bearing the Chaplet of Honor, the award of Fame. Towhom shall I award it? Who best deserves the greatest guerdon, thehighest honor Fame can bestow? Speak, noble women of all time, speak, andclaim your due!"
So often had Betty heard Constance declaim these ringing lines atrehearsal that she knew them as well as her own, and so inspired was sheby the beautiful raiment she had on that her oratory was quite in spiritwith the character.
"Good gracious, Betty!" said Constance, "I didn't know you could reciteso well. Try your own speech now; it's a good chance to rehearse. But getout of that gown first. I'm terribly afraid you'll catch it onsomething."
"No, I won't," said Betty, stepping gingerly out of the glistening massas it fell about her feet. "Now listen to mine."
She recited the lines Grace Darling was supposed to speak, and soearnestly did she tell of the noble work she had done in saving life thatit seemed as if the most stony-hearted of goddesses must be moved toaward her the Chaplet of Honor.
It was not known even yet who should receive the wreath. Each girl wasexpected to do her best, and after all had taken part, the Goddess wouldmake the award. Of course it was arranged beforehand who should have it,but, as this was not known, each secretly hoped for it.
At last the day of the great event arrived.
The entertainment would begin at eight o'clock, but the girls wererequested to be at the school at half-past seven.
Some of them dressed at home and came all ready for the stage, but thosewho had more elaborate or eccentric costumes brought them with them anddressed at the school. Betty dressed at home, for her sailor suit couldeasily be worn under a light coat. She went with a heavy heart, for,though she had scolded herself for being a silly, and had forced herselfto make believe she didn't mind, yet when the evening arrived, and shesaw many of the other girls in glittering, fanciful dresses, she feltagain the bitter disappointment of her plain little frock.
"Remember, Betty girl," said her mother, as they separated, Betty to goto the school-room and Mrs. McGuire to the audience-room, "you must makeyour success by your own work to-night. The others may have beautifultrappings, but you must win out by your really good work in declamation.Win the hearts of the audience by your pathetic story of Grace Darling'swork, and you may represent the part better than those who have elaboratecostumes do theirs."
Betty smiled, knowing her mother's advice was good, and yet unable torepress a little feeling of envy as she saw the resplendent figures allaround her. But she could and did help showing it.
She went about among the girls, helping one or another to adjust heradornments, or prompting some one who was frantically rehearsing herlines.
"I can prompt any of you, if you need it," said Betty, laughing, "for Ido believe I know every line of this whole play. I didn't try to learnit, but I've heard it so often, it sticks in my head."
At eight o'clock Miss Whittier marshaled them in order to go on thestage. Of course the curtain was still down, as the Goddess had not yettaken her place, but after its rising the others were to enter one by oneand address themselves to the arbiter of their fates. They waited, almostbreathlessly, in the hush that always comes before the lifting of acurtain.
"Where is Constance Harper?" asked Miss Whittier, in a whisper, ofanother teacher.
"I don't know," was the reply. "I supposed, of course, she was here. Shesaid she'd dress at home, as her robe is so frail, and that she'd behere, all ready to go on the stage, at quarter to eight."
"Dear me," thought Betty, "Constance is nearly always late, but I thoughtshe'd be on time to-night."
Of course, at such entertainments, no one is greatly surprised if theperformance is a little delayed, but the absence of Constance seemedominous to Miss Whittier.
"I think we'd better send for her," she began, when a man came in, inbreathless haste. He carried a large white box, and, going straight toMiss Whittier, he said rapidly:
"Miss Constance, ma'am, she sprained her ankle--just now. She slippedcoming down-stairs, and she can't walk nohow."
"Sprained her ankle!" cried Miss Whittier. "Can't she be here to-night?Who are you?"
"I'm Mrs. Harper's coachman, ma'am; and Miss Constance she was alldressed in her angel clothes and all, and jest goin' to get in thekerridge, when she slipped on the shiny stair, and her high-heeledslipper twisted somehow, and she jest sprained her ankle. So Mrs. Harper,soon's she could, she got the party clo'es offen her, and she's sent themto you, 'cause she says somebody else'll have to do Miss Constance'spiece to-night."
"Oh!" cried Miss Whittier, clasping her hands. "What can we do? But wemust do something quickly. Lena Carey, you're about Constance's size;can't you take the part of Goddess?"
"Oh, I'd love to, Miss Whittier," said Lena, looking longingly at thespangled white mass in the box, which had just been opened, "but I don'tknow a word of her lines. It's all I can do to remember my own."
"What shall I do!" cried Miss Whittier, in despair. "Does anybody knowthe Goddess's part? Oh, why didn't I think to have an understudy!"
Betty hesitated. It seemed presumptuous for her to offer, for she wellknew she didn't look like Miss Whittier's idea of a Goddess of Honor. Butno one else volunteered, so she said:
"Miss Whittier, I don't look right, I know, but I know every one ofConstance's lines perfectly."
"You blessed child!" cried Miss Whittier; "do you really? Are you sure,Betty?"
For answer, Betty began rapidly, and with no attempt at dramatic effect:
"The Goddess of Honor I! To those who seek me I am hard to win. To thosewho nobly and unflinchingly----"
"That will do!" said Miss Whittier, smiling in spite of her anxiety. "Getout of that sailor suit, Betty, just as quick as you can, and get intoConstance's things."
"Yes'm," said Betty, her voice thrilling with intense excitement, "yes,Miss Whittier. I've been in them before, and I know just how they go."
Several deft pairs of hands gave assistance; Miss Whittier herselfgathered up Betty's loose curls into a classic knot, and so well did shearrange it that, when the gilt crown was in place, the whole effect washarmonious, and Betty's sparkling eyes lit up a face that any goddessmight be pleased to own.
Mindful of Constance's injunctions about tearing the delicate fabric,Betty gathered up her train and followed Miss Whittier to the stage.
As she passed, Dorothy took opportunity to whisper, "Oh, I am so glad";and Jeanette gave her a loving pat as she wen
t by.
The stage was draped entirely with white cheese-cloth, thickly sprinkledwith gilt paper stars. A large pedestal stood ready for the Goddess, andon either side were two lower pedestals, occupied by her allegoricalattendants, who, already in place, were wondering what had happened tothe Goddess they were to serve.
Betty needed no instructions. She knew every pose Constance had beentaught to take, as well as the lines themselves. Poising herselfgracefully, she lifted her outstretched arm, with the long, slendertrumpet, and placed the mouthpiece to her lips.
"Beautiful!" whispered Miss Whittier, delighted at Betty's artistic, yetnatural, pose.
"Don't worry, Miss Whittier," Betty whispered back; "I'll do it allright!"
"You dear child! You've saved the day for us all. I know you'll do itwith credit to us all."
Then Miss Whittier went in front of the curtain, and in a few words toldof Constance's accident, and explained that her part would be taken byMiss Elizabeth McGuire, for whom she begged indulgence if not perfect inher part.
Betty, behind the curtain, heard the applause, and thinking how surprisedJack and her mother would be, she stood motionless as the curtain rose.
Another storm of applause broke forth at the beautiful picture, and whenit subsided, Betty, with just the least tremor of excitement in hervoice, began:
"The Goddess of Honor I! To those who seek me I am hard to win. To thosewho nobly and unflinchingly do their bravest and best, I comeunsummoned!"
The speech was not of great literary value; those in amateurentertainments rarely are; but Betty was a good elocutionist and full ofdramatic instinct. Moreover, her sudden change from an inconspicuousfigure to the chief one of all put her on her mettle, and she fairlyoutdid herself in rendering the opening speech.
The play went on beautifully. Not once did Betty falter, or forget aline. The others, too, all did their parts well, and when, at last, theGoddess of Honor placed the chaplet on the bowed head of Isabella ofSpain, the picture was a beautiful one, and the house fairly rose inapplause.
"It wasn't that I didn't feel sorry for Constance," said Betty, to hermother, as they drove home. "I did, and I do, feel _truly_ sorry. Butwhen she couldn't be there, and Miss Whittier _had_ to have somebody, Iwas so glad I knew the part and could take it."
"You needn't tell me, dear," said her mother; "I know too well my Betty'sgenerous heart to think for a moment that you rejoiced at Constance'saccident. But I, too, am glad that, since poor Constance couldn't bethere, my little girl could be of such help to Miss Whittier, and could,all unexpectedly, succeed so well in what was really a difficult part."
"You are a trump, Betty," said Jack, "and I'm glad you had the chance.I'm downright sorry for Connie, but I'm jolly glad for you!"