Marjorie at Seacote Part 44

"You can't!" said Cousin Jack, "that's the answer."

"No, it isn't! Who knows?"

"Invite in nine more people," suggested Mr. Maynard.

"No; that's not it! Oh, it's easy! Don't you know, Mother? I mean, _Helen_?"

But they all gave it up, so Marjorie announced the solution, which is, "Make apple sauce!"

"History lesson, now," said King. "Edward, who discovered America?"

"Pocahontas," replied Mr. Maynard.

"Right. Who was Pocahontas?"

"A n.o.ble Indian Princess, who was born July 29th, 1563."

"Very good. Ethel, describe the Battle of Bunker Hill."

"I can't; I wasn't there."

"You should have gone," reprimanded King, severely. "Didn't you read the newspaper accounts of it?"

"Yes, but I didn't believe them."

"Jack Bryant, can you describe this famous battle?"

"Yes, sir. It was fought under the shadow of the Bunker Hill Monument.

At sundown the shadow ceased, so they all said, 'Disperse ye rebels, and lay down your arms!' So they laid down their arms and went to sleep."

"Very well done, Master Bryant. Now, we're going to speak pieces. Each pupil will speak a piece or write a composition. You may take your choice."

"I'll speak a piece! Let me speak first!" exclaimed Cousin Ethel, jumping up and down. "May I speak now, Teacher!"

"Yes, Ethel, dear," said Midget, kindly; "you may speak your piece first. Stand up here, by me. Make your bow."

So Cousin Ethel came up to Marjorie, and acted like a very shy and bashful child. She put her finger in her mouth, and dropped her eyes and wriggled about, and picked at her skirt, until everybody was in peals of laughter.

"Be quiet, children," said Midget, trying to control her own face. "Now, everybody sit still while Ethel Bryant recites."

Cousin Ethel made a very elaborate dancing-school bow, and then, swaying back and forth in school-child fas.h.i.+on, she recited in a monotonous singsong, these lines:

"MUD PIES

"The grown-ups are the queerest folks; they never seem to know That mud pies always have to be made just exactly so.

You have to have a nice back yard, a sunny pleasant day, And then you ask some boys and girls to come around and play.

You mix some mud up in a pail, and stir it with a stick; It mustn't be a bit too thin--and not a bit too thick.

And then you make it into pies, and pat it with your hand, And bake 'em on a nice flat board, and my! but they are grand!"

Mrs. Bryant declaimed, with suitable gestures, and finally sat down on the floor and made imaginary mud pies, in such a dear, childish way that her audience was delighted, and gave her really earnest encores.

"Do you know another piece, Ethel?" asked Marjorie.

"Yes, ma'am," and Mrs. Bryant resumed her shy voice and manner.

"Then you may recite it, as your little schoolmates seem anxious to have you do so."

So again, Mrs. Bryant diffidently made her bow, and recited, with real dramatic effect:

"AN UNVISITED LOCALITY

"I wisht I was as big as men, To see the Town of After Ten; I've heard it is so bright and gay, It's almost like another day.

But to my bed I'm packed off straight When that old clock strikes half-past eight!

It's awful hard to be a boy And never know the sort of joy That grown-up people must have when They're in the Town of After Ten.

I'm sure I don't know what they do, For shops are closed, and churches too.

Perhaps with burglars they go 'round, And do not dare to make a sound!

Well, soon I'll be a man, and then I'll see the Town of After Ten!"

"Oh, Cousin Ethel, you're lovely!" cried Marjorie, forgetting her role for the moment. But King took it up.

"Yes, little Ethel," he said, "you recite very nicely, for such a young child. Now, go to your seat, and Helen Maynard may recite next."

"Mine is a Natural History Poem," said Mrs. Maynard, coming up to the teacher's desk. "It is founded on fact, and it is highly instructive."

"That's nice," said King. "Go ahead with it."

So Mrs. Maynard made her bow and though not bashful, like Mrs. Bryant, she was very funny, for she pretended to forget her lines, and stammered and hesitated, and finally burst into pretended tears. But, urged on and encouraged by the teachers, she finally concluded this gem of poesy:

"THE WHISTLING WHALE

"A whistling whale once built his nest On the very tiptop of a mountain's crest.

He wore a tunic and a blue c.o.c.ked hat, And for fear of mice he kept a cat.

The whistling whale had a good-sized mouth, It measured three feet from north to south; But when he whistled he puckered it up Till it was as small as a coffee-cup.

The people came from far and near This wonderful whistling whale to hear; And in a most obliging way He stood on his tail and whistled all day."

"That's a truly n.o.ble poem," commented King, as she finished. "Take your seat, Helen; you have done splendidly, my little girl!"

"Now, Teddy Maynard, it's your turn," said Marjorie.

"After Jacky," declared Mr. Maynard, and nothing would induce him to precede his friend.

"Mine is about a visit I paid to the Zoo," said Mr. Bryant, looking modest. "I wrote it myself for a composition, but it turned out to be poetry. I never can tell how my compositions are going to turn out."

"Recite it," said Marjorie, "and we'll see if we like it."

"It's about wild animals," went on Cousin Jack, "and it tells of their habits."

"That's very nice," said King, condescendingly; "go ahead, my boy."