The Girl from the Big Horn Country

by Mary Ellen Chase

  CHAPTER IX

  THE THANKSGIVING ORATION OF LUCILE DU BOSE

  "Dorothy, do you think it's fair?"

  The black eyes of Lucile Du Bose, ready at any moment to brim overwith discouraged tears, implored her room-mate, who lay upon thecouch, deep in a magazine.

  "Dorothy, do you?"

  Dorothy frowned. Apparently she had no thoughts on the subject, anddid not wish to be disturbed.

  "Do I what, Lucile? What's the matter, anyway?"

  Her tone was petulant and not conducive to conversation; but poorLucile was desperate.

  "Do you think it's fair for me to have to write an oration on thePilgrim Fathers? I don't know anything about them, Dorothy. Besides,I'm most all French; and I don't know how to start an oration,anyway!"

  "Why, of course, it's fair enough. The others all have to. Why notyou? No one's to blame because you're French."

  "But the rest don't all have to," persisted the injured Lucile, whileDorothy began again to read. "The Blackmore twins were allowed to takeEthan Allen, because he's their ancestor; and Miss Wallace toldVirginia she could write on the Pioneers. Who are the Pioneers,Dorothy?"

  "Search me!" Dorothy was in a forbidding temper. Of late even herdevotion to Miss Wallace had not made her "angelic" to her room-mate.

  Lucile chewed her pen-stock savagely. Something must be done. Studyhour was nearly over, and Dorothy would be on her way to tennis or the"Forget-me-not." She would try once more.

  "Dorothy?"

  "Well!"

  "Dorothy, if you'll tell me how an oration begins, I'll do your Frenchsentences every day for two weeks."

  Dorothy stopped reading. This was worth considering, since her rank inFrench had been B for some time. Of late Dorothy's resolutions made inthe fall had been considerably bent if not broken. Still it would notdo to accept with too much alacrity. She closed the magazine.

  "I can't see, Lucile, how you can have been studying orations all thefall with Miss Wallace, and not know what one is like. Don't youlisten in class?"

  "Of course I do; but they're so dry I forgot them. I know Napoleon's'Address to his Troops,' but I can't understand Washington andWebster. If I could just begin this I might go on. It's got to soundpatriotic, you know, and thrilling, like 'Soldiers! you haveprecipitated yourselves like a torrent from the Apennines!'"

  "But you're not talking to any one. You're talking about the PilgrimFathers. Now, why don't you begin like Lincoln? Of course, you can'tsay, 'Fourscore and seven years ago,' but you can subtract 1620 fromnow, and say--let me see-'Fourteen score and thirteen years ago.' Now,I think that's original, Lucile."

  Lucile looked more hopeful, and blew her nose for the last time. Thenshe began to write. After a few moments,

  "I've done three sentences, Dorothy. They're landed safely. Now whatshall I say?"

  Dorothy was plainly impatient. Still there were those Frenchsentences!

  "Well, I should think you'd tell how they overcame all the elements.Something like this, 'Nothing daunted them, breaking waves dashinghigh, or a stern and rockbound coast.' That's from a poem, you know,called 'The Landing of the Pilgrims.' Then you might say somethingabout their fortitude being an inspiration to us. Orations are allabout that, you know,--bravery and inspiration and reverence and allkinds of memories. But for goodness' sake, Lucile, don't put my wordsdown! I just suggest. You must write your own words."

  "Why, of course I will. I'm just putting it down roughly now, you see.I'll do it all over this evening. Oh, dear, here's Virginia andPriscilla and we're not half done. Do you suppose you'll have anythoughts this evening?"

  "I can't tell. Come in!"

  "Walk down to the 'Forget-me-not' with us, you two," said Priscilla."My allowance has come, and I'm treating. This is the first hotchocolate and cake day. Jess Blackmore was down yesterday, and theytold her. What's the matter, Lucile? You look sad."

  "I'll have to change my shoes," said Dorothy. "Will you wait?"

  "Yes, if you hurry. What's up, Lucile?"

  Lucile, glad of an audience, returned to her old grievance.

  "I don't think it's fair," she complained. "Virginia, if you had thePioneers, why need I have the Pilgrim Fathers?"

  "Why, I'd have soon had the Pilgrim Fathers," Virginia explained, "butI think real Americans ought to be just as proud of the Pioneers,because they were every bit as brave. They crossed the mountains tofind new lands, and made homes in the wilderness, and fought Indiansand wild animals. And no one here in New England seems to care aboutthem. So I asked if I mightn't take them myself to give them atribute."

  "Oh, that's what a Pioneer is," said Lucile reflectively. "Well, whycouldn't I take the Storming of the Bastille? My great grandfatherhelped. The Blackmores have Ethan Allen."

  Dorothy sighed very audibly as she laced her boots. She was apparentlydead sick of the Pilgrim Fathers.

  "But, you see, Lucile," Virginia again explained, "Miss Wallace wantsyou to be more American now you're here at school, because your motheris American, and that's why she wants you to take the Pilgrim Fathers,so you'll appreciate your country more."

  Lucile's black eyes snapped. She pushed her paper away, and went tothe closet, murmuring something in French under her breath thatsounded very much like "Vive la France!"

  Virginia's eyes fell on the crumpled and dog-eared piece of paper.

  "Why, haven't you more than that done, Lucile? They have to be givento Miss Wallace to-morrow!"

  The angry Lucile stamped her foot. This was quite too much to beborne. She was sick and tired of the Pilgrim Fathers, and all theirpatronizing descendants.

  "No, I haven't," she cried. "And you needn't act as though you knew somuch, Virginia Hunter, just because you can write compositions. You'reout of it easy just because you've lived way out in the woods, andknow all about Indians and wild animals. But I've lived in Paris, andthere's a great difference between Wyoming and Paris, I'll have you toknow!"

  The scorn in Lucile's voice was not to be mistaken; but Virginia wasequal to the occasion.

  "Yes, of course there is a great difference," she said. "You see,Paris is frightfully small compared to Wyoming--I don't mean in size,you know, but in the way people look at things. In Paris, forinstance, one thinks about clothes and a good time and gayety; and inthe mountains you'd feel mean thinking about such frivolous things."

  Dorothy and Priscilla laughed, but Lucile grew angrier as Virginiacontinued sweetly,

  "But I really wrote one on the Pilgrim Fathers, too, Lucile. Priscillaand I both did, and then tried to thrill each other by giving them.Would you like to hear mine? I have it right here in my blousepocket."

  Lucile's mind, slow to originate, was quick to grasp, and tenacious toretain. An idea came to her with Virginia's question, but she was tooirritated to appear as eager as she really was to hear the oration.Here might be a way out of her difficulty. She brushed her sweaterleisurely.

  "I'm sure I don't care. You may if you like," she said at length.

  "Oh, let's give those Pilgrim Fathers a rest!" cried the exasperatedDorothy. "I'm tired to death of them, and there won't be a cake left.Come on!"

  Priscilla gave her a warning nudge and a sly wink. "No, let's hearVirginia first," she said. "It won't take five minutes, and heroration's a peach! Go on, Virginia!"

  Virginia mounted the nearest chair, and drawing a crumpled paper fromher blouse pocket, began to read in a voice filled with emotion:

  "How the very breaking waves of rockbound Cape Cod were thrilled when our Pilgrim forefathers first landed on the stern shores of our vast continent, then unrevealed. Methinks the ocean eagle himself burst into a paean of praise! How the giant branches of the woods against a stormy sky waved banners of praise! No trumpet that sings of fame announced their coming! No roll of stirring drums saluted them! But their gospel hymns of cheer burst upon the naked solitude!

  "They did not seek thus afar the jewels from the bowels of the earth, nor did they seek k
ing's wealth or war's spoils, but rather the pure shrine of a truly childlike faith.

  "Aye, classmates, let us in sooth call this soil of our dear State holy ground, for they trod here, and they left us an unstained freedom to worship the God of our Fathers, known of old!"

  With a quiver in her voice Virginia finished, bowed to her audienceand descended. Lucile was not blessed with a keen sense of humor.Still, as eloquent as it sounded, it might be a joke. She glanced atVirginia's and Priscilla's serious faces, and was reassured.

  "Oh, I wish I could do something like that!" she breathed.

  "Isn't it fine?" Priscilla asked excitedly. "I told Virginia it had areal Patrick Henry ring. Don't you think so, Dorothy?"

  "Elegant!" said Dorothy, emerging crimson from the depths of thecloset. "Come on. Let's hurry!"

  Virginia threw the piece of mangled paper in the waste basket. "I'veanother copy," she said carelessly, as they hurried down-stairs andout-of-doors. At the steps Lucile hesitated.

  "I'll catch up," she said. "I've forgotten something. Go on."

  She ran up-stairs while the three outside the fir trees laughed.

  "Didn't she bite easily, though? I never thought she would bite likethat. Poor Mrs. Hemans and Kipling!"

  "It way mean," admitted Virginia, "but I just couldn't resist afterthat slam she gave Wyoming. I thought sure she'd see throughit--Dorothy was so red; and, of course, I thought she knew 'Thebreaking waves dashed high.'"

  "The best part of it all is," Dorothy whispered, "she's gone up tofind that paper. Martha cleans this afternoon, you know, and Lucilewants to use that oration. I'll bet I'm not asked for any thoughtsto-night!"

  "Oh, no, she won't!" cried Virginia. "Dorothy, do you suppose shewill?"

  "You wait and see! Of course she will. Lucile's queer. She doesn'thave any thoughts; and she can't see when a thing is funny. MissWallace doesn't have them read aloud, does she, Priscilla? Lucileespecially asked that, and I told her she didn't."

  "She didn't last year. Oh, if she did!"

  They laughed again, but tried to calm down as Lucile, looking somewhatembarrassed, emerged from the fir trees. Then they proceeded to the"Forget-me-not," where they found most of St. Helen's assembled, andtoasted the different classes and cottages in hot chocolate, served bya sallow youth with eye-glasses and a white duck coat, he evidentlybeing likewise an innovation, like the chocolate and cakes.

  On the way home Virginia's conscience pricked a little, and sheconfessed a slight mean feeling to Priscilla.

  "You see, if I could be sure Miss Wallace wouldn't ask us to read themin class, it wouldn't be so bad. It's bad enough, if Lucile reallyuses that foolish thing, to have Miss Wallace read it alone; but,really, 'twould be frightful if Miss Wallace should call on her toread it. I don't know what I'd do! And every one would laugh! Oh, itis mean, Priscilla!"

  "No, it isn't mean, it's just funny. You know things are different inschool, Virginia, though I can never make mother see it. Now jokesaren't mean! Lucile just bit, and she'll learn in this way not to biteso easily. Also, that you get in trouble using other folks' work.Besides, if she's a sport, and takes it right, we'll all like herbetter. It is mean to set traps deliberately to get other girls intotrouble, the way Imogene did to you the other night; and it'smiserably mean to try to throw blame on some one else for what you'vedone yourself. Mother can't seem to see much difference, but dad andthe boys can. Only jokes aren't mean; and we'd have been too slow forany use if we hadn't had some fun out of that oration when the chancecame like that."

  In study hour that evening, Lucile's conscience was also active, withbetter reason. Dorothy, in her slippers, had stolen along the porch toImogene's room, a way she had of doing lately, though it was quiteagainst the rules. But Lucile did not need Dorothy's thoughts, for shewas copying furiously from a piece of yellow paper, which she hadtaken from her handkerchief box. After all, she told her conscience,it was perfectly excusable, for the whole thing had been unfair. Toexpect her, whose great-grandfather had stormed the Bastille, to writean oration on the Pilgrim Fathers! Moreover, Virginia wasn't going touse it herself, she reasoned, so it really wasn't cheating; and shecould help Virginia on her French some day to balance the account.Besides, Virginia would never know, because Miss Wallace never hadthem read in class; and, after all, it was not all Virginia's work,because Lucile must add some thoughts of her own to eke out therequired length. Lucile was not a prolific thinker, but with the helpof the Dictionary and "The Essentials of American History," she wasprogressing. By the time Dorothy returned, the oration was completed,though Lucile was strangely reticent concerning it. On her desk,Dorothy found a neatly written French exercise.

  "Oh, Lucile, that's awfully good of you," she said, herself slightlyconscience stricken.

  "It's all right. You helped me, you know."

  "Is the oration all done?"

  "Yes. I--I wish I hadn't eaten those three cakes. I think I'll go tobed early."

  Sophomore English recited from nine to ten, Miss Wallace desiringminds as fresh as possible. The morning following Lucile's desperateattempt and final accomplishment, a growing pile of manuscript on MissWallace's desk proved that youthful orators had been busy. Lucile andVirginia, coming a few moments late to class, deposited their paperson the top of the pile and took their seats. The recitation began, andfor half an hour Miss Wallace questioned, listened, and explained.Then she closed her book, and motioned the girls to do the same.

  "I'm going to introduce a custom which I have never introducedbefore," she said with the smile that had made her beloved during herthree years at St. Helen's. "We have twenty-five minutes remaining. Iam going to ask that two or three of our orations be read before theclass. Virginia, you are on the top of the pile, perhaps a penalty forbeing late. We will hear your oration."

  Virginia crossed the room, conflicting emotions sweeping over her. Asto reading her own composition, she was quite willing, since MissWallace desired it; but she knew that Lucile's was next in order, and,as she turned to face the others, she saw Lucile's agonized face.Could she do anything to prevent her coming next? She hesitated. Therewas nothing except to hope that Miss Wallace would note Lucile's fear,and excuse her. Miss Wallace noticed the hesitation.

  "Come, Virginia. We are waiting." Virginia began to read, and as sheread, she forgot Lucile in the hope that those listening might realizethat the Pioneers of her own dear country were likewise PilgrimFathers. Her voice, sweet and clear, rang out earnestly:

  "At this Thanksgiving season when we, as a nation, give honor to those brave men and women who founded the New England States, should we not also grant honor and homage to those other founders of our country--the children of the Pilgrim Fathers--the sturdy Pioneers of our Great West? In our praise of the Pilgrim Fathers, we often forget, I think, that there were other Pilgrims besides those at Plymouth Rock--other wanderers, who, perhaps, did not seek freedom to worship God, but who did seek better homes for their children, and who tried by their discoveries to show that we had a bigger, richer country than we knew about. They did not cross the angry seas of water, but they crossed a sea of land, our great prairies, where there were even more perils than those of the Atlantic--perils of Indians, wild animals, cyclones, and blizzards. They crossed the mountains, cutting their own trails before them, protecting the tired women and helpless children from danger; and those who went to the Far West crossed the great deserts, suffering great hunger and worse thirst, and sometimes leaving their bones upon the sands."

  Her voice as she read trembled with eagerness and pride. Into her mindcrept the pictures of "old timers" at home, and the tales of braveryand endurance which they had told her. She read on, telling of morehardships, of greater bravery, extolling the lonely lives in theforests or mountains or on the great prairies. The girls listenedeagerly. Many of them had never considered the Pioneers before. Afterall, they were worthy of praise. Virginia was holding her audience
--allsave the cowering Lucile, who was miserably knotting her handkerchief.The young orator closed with an appeal to her listeners:

  "Oh, let us who are so greatly blessed with homes and friends and safety from the dangers that beset our forefathers, give thanks to God at this Thanksgiving season! And let us determine to show in our small lives the bravery and the perseverance and the honesty and the fear of doing wrong, which was shown by our Pilgrim forefathers of Massachusetts, and by the Pilgrim pioneers of our mountain and prairie States. Then shall we be more fit to be called real, true Americans!"

  Virginia took her seat amid a burst of genuine applause, the mostprecious of which was her beloved teacher's own commendation and lookof approval.

  "Now, Lucile, you are next," continued the merciless Miss Wallace; andthe trembling, cowering Lucile managed to cross the room, and take herown paper from the desk. For a moment Miss Wallace may have beentempted to withdraw her request. Virginia, whose pleasure in thereception of her own oration had quite disappeared in her pity forLucile, kept hoping that she might reconsider; but she did not. Lucilemust take her chances with the others, she was thinking. Here was anopportunity for overcoming her diffidence in class.

  Lucile faced her audience, her eyes half angry, half frightened, herhands shaking. Her low trembling voice was hardly oratorical.

  "Louder, please, Lucile," commanded Miss Wallace.

  Virginia studiously looked out of the window. Lucile recommenced, andthis time, so absolutely astonished and overcome was Miss Wallace,that the orator proceeded without interruption to the end.

  "Fourteen score and thirteen years ago," read the trembling voice, "our Pilgrim forefathers landed on Plymouth Rock. The exact date was the 20th of December in the year of our Lord 1620. It was Monday when they got there and the women thought they would wash. All American women have washed ever since. Nothing daunted them, breaking waves dashing high, or a stern and rockbound coast, which is from a poem called 'The Landing of the Pilgrims.' They gave us bravery and inspiration and reverence and all kinds of memories."

  The orator at this juncture cleared her throat desperately, and seemedto gather strength. She proceeded more calmly, and in somewhat loudertone.

  "How the very breaking waves of rockbound Cape Cod, situated on the eastern coast of Massachusetts, and so named for the fish that swim around it, were thrilled when our Pilgrim Fathers first landed on the shores of our vast continent, then unrevealed--America, named for a poor Italian author, Amerigo Vespucci. Many persons think the name would be better if it were Columbia, after the song, 'Columbia, the gem of the ocean.' Methinks the ocean eagle, a bird once inhabitating the shores of New England, but now extinct, himself burst into a paean of praise! How the giant branches of the woods against a stormy sky waved banners of praise. No trumpet that sings of fame announced their coming! No roll of stirring drums saluted them! But their gospel hymns of cheer burst upon the naked solitude!

  "They did not seek thus afar the jewels from the bowels of the earth, nor did they seek kings' wealth or war's spoils, but rather the pure shrine of a truly childlike faith. And almost the very first building they erected was a church!

  "Aye, Sophomore classmates, I think you ought to call this soil of your dear State holy ground, for they trod here, and they have left you an unstained freedom to worship the God of your Fathers, known of old!"

  The poor orator managed to reach her seat without encountering theeyes of Virginia; but she could not be unconscious of the postures ofher classmates. Some with crimson cheeks and shaking shoulders werestudiously regarding their textbooks; others, with a completedisregard either of hygiene or of good manners, were chewing theirhandkerchiefs; the Blackmore twins were weeping on each others'shoulders. Miss Wallace was fumbling in the drawer of her desk, andstriving hard to control her quivering lips.

  "This class is dismissed," she managed to say, without looking up, andthe class, unspeakably glad to be dismissed, literally ran from theroom, leaving poor Lucile, upon whom the joke was very slowly dawning,to come out alone, cut her Latin recitation, and seek her room. Hereshe locked the door against her room-mate, and packed her suit-casefor New York where she was to spend Thanksgiving, glad that a telegramfrom relatives there had asked for her early departure on theafternoon train. She did not appear at luncheon.

  "Poor thing! I guess she won't bite so easy next time," saidPriscilla, as they left the table, where Miss Wallace, still smiling,was arranging a tray for the orator. "Let's be decent enough to playtennis on the back court till she goes to the station. I know shedoesn't want to see us, and I don't blame her a bit. It'll beforgotten when she gets back. You don't feel bad about it, do you,Virginia?"

  "No, not now, but it was truly awful, Priscilla, when she looked soscared in class. I felt like a criminal. But I feel better now I'vewritten the note."

  "What note?"

  "Oh, I forgot to tell you, and I signed your name, too; but I knewyou'd want to. You see, I thought 'twould be too bad to have her goaway for Thanksgiving, thinking we didn't like her and had been meanto her, because, you know, I don't think Lucile is very quick aboutseeing through things, and I wanted her to know we liked her all thesame. So I wrote a verse, and slipped it under her door. It said:

  Dear Lucile;

  It was a joke, and now it's made We simply can't unmake it; But we like you, and hope that you Will be a sport and take it.

  Happy Thanksgiving!

  P. and V.

  You don't mind, do you?"

  Priscilla threw her arm over Virginia's shoulder, and drew her towardthe tennis court.

  "No, of course I don't mind. I think 'twas mighty sweet of you to doit. You're queer, Virginia, but I like you, and I'm glad you're myroommate."

  Virginia's eyes glowed with happiness.

  "Glad!" she cried. "I'm gladder every day! And I just love you,Priscilla Winthrop!"

  That evening Virginia added Experience III to the Decorum Chapter ofher ever growing "Thought Book ":

  "In school it all depends upon how you feel inside when you do a thingas to whether it's mean or not. Jokes are not mean, unless you feelmalicious when you conceive them. Also, it doesn't matter at all if ajoke is played upon you. All it matters is whether you are a goodsport and take it well."