Atlantic Narratives Part 21
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'I came to school on the first morning of the blizzard, because I live so near. And one other person came, too.' Her little audience began to look frightened. 'The only child who came that morning was brought in unconscious.'
Charley Starr was dead--Theodora had known it all along.
'At six o'clock on the first morning of the blizzard, Charley Starr, without any one's knowing he was awake, went out to his father's stable, and managed to saddle one of the horses. And in order not to be late to school, he left home at half-past six, and rode through the blinding snow, until, at nine o'clock, he reached the school. And when he finally got here, he was so exhausted that he tumbled off the horse into a snow-drift. If the janitor hadn't happened to see him, there would be no Charley Starr in our cla.s.s, or in the world to-day. But the janitor did see him; and so, although Charley is pretty sick, he's going to get better and come back to us again. It seemed to me that it was very brave of Charles to try to come to school, and so I gave him the purple star.
He doesn't know it yet, but I am going to write to him to-day. And I want every girl and every boy who thinks I was right in giving him the star to clap with all his might.'
The spontaneous applause that at once shook the walls was due in part to enthusiasm for Charley Starr. Most of the noise, however, was caused by the exuberant joy of being allowed, for once, to make as much racket as one could within the sacred precincts of Room H. Every one set to work to blister his hands; every one but Theodora, who sat with folded arms and with burning, accusing eyes fixed on Miss Prawl. Holding up her hand for silence, Miss Prawl, with an inexplicable sinking of heart, said,--
'Well, Theodora?'
Theodora rose, white-lipped.
'Miss Prawl, if I'd disobeyed my parents, or stolen out when they didn't know it, _I_ might have come to school and had a purple star. I wasn't scared. _I_ wanted to come. I _prayed_ to come.' She knew this last statement would have to be lived down later, but at this hazardous moment, she cared not for that. 'I'd have walked till I died, if they'd let me.'
Before she had time to sit down again, an unexpected adherent suddenly sprang to his feet in the person of Freddy Beal, the cla.s.s dunce.
'So would I!' shouted Freddy, desirous to support the distinguished Theodora, and at the same time to win a little unaccustomed prominence for himself. 'They caught me just as I was s.h.i.+nnying over the back fence, and they had to lock me up to keep me home. I ain't "gone" on school, but it would have been fun to come _that_ day! It was the only day I ever wanted to come to school. Charley Starr hadn't ought to get no purple star. That stunt of his wa'n't brav'ry.'
The greatest and the least having been heard from, every one in the cla.s.s then felt called upon to rise up and say that his soul had been sick within him because he was not permitted to come to school the first day of the blizzard. Miss Prawl was devoutly wis.h.i.+ng that she had abolished the purple star before such zealots as the critical Theodora and her followers had darkened the door of Room H, when, as if drawn into the discussion by Fate, Mr. Wadsmore entered, with a brilliant smile for the cla.s.s and a rather serious look for Miss Prawl. He handed her a note, and said mysteriously,--
'From an I. P. And I'm afraid I think he's right.'
To the great delight of everyone, Mr. Wadsmore turned to the cla.s.s, and joked about an impossible, prehistoric period when he was a small boy,--he now weighed nearly two hundred,--while Miss Prawl, with damask cheeks and too brilliant eyes read the note from the Irate Parent. This note was written with violet ink on heavily perfumed paper with a gold coat of arms and a gold border, and it read:--
936 Clinton Avenue
MY DEAR MR. WADSMORE,--
On close questioning, I find that my son Charles was actuated in his dare-devil adventure of leaving for school at six-thirty o'clock on the first morning of the blizzard by a desire to win a purple-chalk star. He knows that he very nearly lost his life, and he is hoping that his rash act may be rewarded in the foolish way I mentioned above. He considers that he is a hero, unappreciated at home, and he is working himself into a fever over the whole thing.
I am a plain man [Miss Prawl's eyes wandered to the coat of arms]
and I greatly disapprove of such methods in education. Unless you can do away with your purple-star system immediately, I shall be obliged to transfer Charles to another private school which is nearer, and therefore more convenient.
Awaiting your reply, I am
Very truly yours,
CHARLES AUGUSTUS STARR.
Miss Prawl read the note in a flash, s.n.a.t.c.hed up the eraser, rubbed out the purple star, opened the chalk box, and dropped the purple chalk in the wastebasket.
'What Theodora said about the purple star is quite true,' she said, soberly. 'And I shall never give any one a purple star. Never!'
As Mr. Wadsmore left the room with an approving smile at Miss Prawl, Theodora's eyes grew soft and bright, and she sighed with pathetic relief. For the first time since she had heard of the purple star, the world seemed altogether right.
RUGGS--R.O.T.C.
BY WILLIAM ADDLEMAN GANOE
I
IT was only because it was the middle of the night that the barracks of Company Number 1 lay quiet. Even at that solitary hour the squares of moonlight from its sliding windows revealed two long huddled rows of Gold Medal cots creaking with the turnings of one hundred and sixty restless sleepers.
Down toward the end of Squad 15, Joseph Morley Ruggs lay wrapped in dreams more troubled than was his wont. The 'Meter' was standing before him, writing with a feathered sword in a giant book, 'Thou art weighed in the balance and _found_--' The words kept spreading until the _d_ was crushed against the edge of the page. The Meter's eyes became flaming nozzles, which shot waves of gas into Ruggs's unmasked face. There was a cras.h.i.+ng sound of many bands, playing mostly upon cymbals.
All at once the 'U.S.' on the Meter's collar and the silver bars on his shoulders became incandescent, his body lengthened out like Aladdin's genie, and he slowly disappeared upward in a whirl of smoke, mounted on the shaft of a rifle grenade--and Ruggs was left alone, holding in his hand a rectangular parchment headed, 'Honorable Discharge from the service of the United States.'
When he raised his head Alice, with sorrowful eyes, was looking him through and through--Alice, whom he had left a month before with the trembling words of acquiescence on her lips and a kiss of hope at his departure. There she stood, shaking a finger of scorn at the paper of Failure in his hand.
The earth was giving way under him. As he sank lower and lower, voices grew abundant about him; and there arose a continuous clatter of rifle-bolts, bayonets, and mess-tins. A bugle somewhere was sounding the a.s.sembly. The company in the dusky distance was falling in under arms; the corporals were about to report, and he, Candidate Ruggs, would be absent.
He tried to hurry over dressing himself; but his arms worked in jerks, and when he attempted to run, his legs merely pulled and pushed back and forth heavily in one spot. Frantically he struggled to make headway against the solid air, but in vain. With a supreme effort he lunged forward--and came down at the side of his cot on both feet, with a resounding shock that made the boards of the flimsy barracks rattle.
'For Gawd's sake,' growled the Duke of Squad 15, rising on his elbow, 'don't you get enough settin'-up stuff in the daytime without jarrin'
your muscles when decent folks sleep?'
'Who fell into the trench?' inquired Naughty, his legal mind going to the bottom of the matter.
'No use tryin' to sleep around here,' continued the Duke with a groan.
'Got to get a pa.s.s and lock yourself in a hotel over Sat.u.r.day and Sunday.'
Some one in the middle of barracks was attempting to search out with a pocket-flash the cause of the excitement.
'Use of--star--sh.e.l.ls--specially successful--'gainst active enemy--in No Man's Land,' droned the great voice of small Squirmy in a far corner.
And the disturbance subsided with several chuckles, allowing Ruggs to dispose himself upon his rumpled sheets without further fire upon him.
In the morning, as he stood in ranks at reveille, he was secretly relieved to note the Meter's normal appearance, and his life-sized pencil, though that active instrument was spelling out death to some career possibly at that moment. Degradation to the name of Ruggs had not yet come; the chance to be included among the commissioned few at the end of camp lay before him as a possibility.
He was wakened smartly from his musings. 'Dress up, put up your arm! you still asleep?'
The Duke, who had been a sergeant in the National Guard for six years, realized that, since the Meter was near at hand, it was a fortunate time to make penetrating corrections. The awe and respect which had bestowed on him the name of Duke on account of his knowledge of the rudiments, were now, in the squad over which he had tyrannized as acting corporal, beginning to wane.
Ruggs put up his arm, every bristling hair of his mouse-colored head erect with fury. It was difficult for a man fifteen years out of college, who had by dint of energy and foresight worked his way to the superintendency of one of the largest banking houses in the East, to take orders from a grocery clerk much younger and of slight education.
'Every kind of military communication should be impersonal.' These words of the Meter came to him opportunely. He fastened his mind on the details for the following day which the first sergeant was then reading out, and was rewarded.
'For company commander to-morrow--Ruggs!'
'He-re!' His voice came all cracked and husky.
'You'd better get onto those drill regs and get up that company stuff,'
admonished the Duke at breakfast. 'I always find I can get along better after givin' it a once-over, no matter how well I know it.'
Ruggs made no reply. He was lost in the thought of the chance he had waited for through thirty-five days of slavery. His opportunity had come.
Atlantic Narratives Part 21
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Atlantic Narratives Part 21 summary
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