Grace Harlowe's Sophomore Year at High School Part 21

Three twisted ribbon handles of soph.o.m.ore colors and three of junior ornamented either side of the box. Each girl grasped a handle.

"We will proceed with the ceremony," directed Julia. "Lift up the box."

This was easier said than done. The handles were so close together that the girls hardly had room to step. The journey was finally accomplished without any further mishap than the sliding off of the wheat sheaf. This was hastily replaced by Jessica before its fall had been marked by the eagle eye of the master of ceremonies, who marched ahead with her a.s.sistant.

When the box had been carefully deposited at one side of the "grave,"

Julia Crosby took her place beside it, and a.s.suming a Daniel Webster att.i.tude began her address.

"Honored juniors and soph.o.m.ores. We have met together to-day for a great and n.o.ble purpose. We are about to take a step which will forever after be recorded among the doughty deeds of Oakdale High School. It will go down in High School history as the glorious inspiration of a master mind.

We are going to unfurl the banner of peace and bury the hatchet.

"Since the early days of our cla.s.s history, war, cruel war, has raged between the august bodies represented here to-day. On this very field many moons ago the gallant soph.o.m.ores advanced upon the, then, very fresh freshmen, but retreated in wild confusion. It is therefore fitting that this should be the place chosen for the burial of all grudges, jealousies and unworthy emotions that formerly rent our b.r.e.a.s.t.s."

Here Julia paused to take breath.

The girls cheered wildly.

Julia bowed right and left, her hand over her heart. When the noise had subsided, she continued. She bewailed junior misdeeds and professed meek repentance. She dwelt upon the beauty of peace and she begged her hearers henceforth to live with each other amicably.

It was a capital address, delivered in a mock-serious manner that provoked mirth, and did more toward establis.h.i.+ng general good feeling than any other method she might have tried. In closing she said:

"The hatchet is the symbol of war. The wheat-sheaf represents our elderly grudge; but the immortelles are the everlasting flowers of good will that spring from the planting of these two. We will now listen to a few remarks from the pride of the soph.o.m.ore cla.s.s, a.s.sistant Master of Ceremonies Grace Harlowe."

Grace attempted to speak, but received an ovation that made her flush and laughingly put her hands over her ears. When she was finally allowed to proceed, she delivered an oration as flowery as that of the master of ceremonies.

When the cries of approbation evoked by Grace's oration had died away, it was announced that the "renowned elocutionist," Miss Anne Pierson, would recite a poem appropriate to the occasion. Anne accordingly recited "The Bridge of Sighs," done over by Julia Crosby, and beginning:

"Take it up gingerly; Handle with care; 'Tis a relic of soph.o.m.ore And junior warfare."

The intense feeling with which Anne rendered this touching effusion, caused the master of ceremonies to sob audibly and lean so heavily upon her a.s.sistant for support that that dignified person almost pitched head first into the opening, and was saved from an ignominious tumble by one of her attendants. This was too much for the others, who, forgetting the solemnity of their office, shrieked with mirth, in which the spectators were not slow to join.

"I think we had better wind up the ceremony," said Julia with great dignity. "These people will soon be beyond our control."

The attendants managed to straighten their faces long enough to a.s.sist in the concluding rites that were somewhat hastily performed, and the master of ceremonies and her a.s.sistants held an impromptu reception on the spot.

"Now," said Julia Crosby, "we have done a good day's work for both cla.s.ses. I only hope that no prying freshmen hear of this. They will be sure to come here and dig up what we have gone to such pains to bury. They have no respect for their superiors. However, you have all behaved yourselves with true High School spirit, and I wish to announce that you will find a spread awaiting you around the corner of the Omnibus House."

There was a general hurrah at this statement, and the guests rushed off to the spot designated.

Grace had held an earnest conference with old Jean, and the result showed itself in the row of tables rudely constructed to fit the emergency. He it was who had dug the "grave." He now sat on the steps waiting to build a fire, over which Grace had planned to make coffee for the hungry girls whose appet.i.tes had been whetted by the fresh air.

The money contributed by the cla.s.ses had been used to good advantage by Grace and Julia, and piles of tempting eatables gladdened the eyes of the guests.

For the next half hour feasting was in order. Juniors and soph.o.m.ores shared cups; as the supply of these were limited. At the end of that time the last crumb of food had disappeared and the girls stood in groups or walked about the field, discussing the various features of school life.

Some one proposed playing old-fas.h.i.+oned games, and soon "puss in the corner," "pom-pom-pull-away," and "prisoner's goal" were in full swing.

"This brings back one's Grammar School days, doesn't it?" said Nora to Grace. They were deep in a game of prisoner's goal, and stood for a moment waiting for the enemy to move toward them.

"I haven't had such a good, wholesale romp for ages," answered Grace, and was off like the wind to intercept Eva Allen as she endeavored to make a wide detour of their goal.

The hours slipped by on wings.

The start home was made about five o'clock. The juniors and soph.o.m.ores trooped back to Oakdale arm in arm, singing school songs and making the welkin ring with their joyous laughter.

The people of Oakdale smiled at the procession of happy girls and wondered what particular celebration was in order.

When the center of town was reached the party broke up with a great deal of laughing and chattering, the girls going their separate ways in the best of spirits.

"I've had a perfectly fine time," declared Grace, as she said good-bye to her chums, "and how glad I am that we are all friends again."

She quite forgot when she made that statement that Miriam Nesbit had not honored the reunion with her presence.

CHAPTER XVIII

AT THE ELEVENTH HOUR

One more excitement was to quicken the pulses of the soph.o.m.ores before they settled down to that long last period of study between Easter holidays and vacation.

The great, decisive basketball game with the juniors was now to take place.

Grace, in conclave with her team, had gone over her instructions for the hundredth time. They had discussed the strong points of the juniors and what were their own weak ones.

Miriam Nesbit was sullen at these meetings; but in the practice game she had played with her usual agility and skill, so the girls felt that she was far too valuable a member of the team for them to mind her humors.

"Everybody is coming to-morrow to see us play," exclaimed Nora in the locker-room, at the recess on Friday. "I don't believe the President's visit would create more excitement, really," she added with a touch of pride.

"Did you know," interposed Anne, "that the uppercla.s.s girls are calling Grace and Julia Crosby 'David and Jonathan'?"

This was also an amusing piece of news at which the other girls laughed joyously. In fact, there was no such feeling of depression before this game as had affected the cla.s.s when the first game was played. The soph.o.m.ores were cheerful and confident, awaiting the great battle with courage in their hearts.

"Be here early, girls," cautioned Grace, as they parted after school that day. "Perhaps we may get in a little practice before the people begin to come."

Grace hurried through her own dinner as fast as she could, on the eventful Sat.u.r.day.

"I shall be glad when this final game is over, child," exclaimed Mrs.

Harlowe anxiously, "I really think you have had more athletics this winter than has been good for you, what with your walking, and skating, dancing, and now basketball."

"You'll come, won't you, mother?" cried Grace, seizing her hat and rus.h.i.+ng off without listening to Mrs. Harlowe's comments. "We are sure to win,"

she called as she waved her a good-bye kiss.

There was no one in the school building when Grace got back; that is, no one except the old janitress, who was sweeping down the corridor, as usual. The other girls had not been so expeditious and Grace found the locker-room deserted.

With trembling eagerness she was slipping on her gymnasium suit and rubber-soled shoes, when she suddenly remembered that she had left her tie in the geometry cla.s.sroom. She had bought a new one the day before, placed it in the back of her geometry and walked out of the cla.s.sroom, leaving book, tie and all behind.