Sophie May

“ Barbara seated herself, and resumed her knitting. She usually nodded over that black stocking as drowsily as if it had been a treatise on philosophy, or something quite as stupid; but to-night she was painfully wide awake.
"O, my patience!" thought Grace; "can't she look at anything but me?"
There by the stove sat the glaring white kitty, staring at Grace with winking eyelids, and on the mantel stood the clock ticking at her, and in the corner sat Barby clicking needles at her; every tick and every click seeming to go through Grace's ears like percussion caps. ”

“ The girls looked astonished.
"I've been reading Mythology," pursued Grace, "and some of the nicest goddesses and nymphs didn't marry — Diana, and Minerva, and Clytie, and Sappho."
"We're not goddesses and nymphs, I hope," said Diademia Jones, shaking her head.
"Nor heathens," added Isa, with spirit.
"O, no; but if ladies want to be very great, and do oceans of good, and write poems and everything, why, they mustn't be married. You see how it is, girls; there's so much housekeeping and sewing to attend to."
"But, then," added Lucy Lane, mournfully, "if we're not married, we'll be—old maids!" ”

“ Now, Cassy, I ask you if we ought to allow such a girl as Isa in our R. S. S.?"
"Not if I was queen, we wouldn't," was the decided answer.
Now that the reconciliation was complete, Cassy declared she had a world to say, and Grace replied that she had "a hemisphere to say, herself." Then she told the story of the gypsy, and made confession that her dismal fortune had kept her awake "night after night."
"Humph!" said Cassy; "nothing ever keeps me awake! Thunder can't, nor cannons; and I'm sure that crazy old woman couldn't. What about the prize, Gracie?" ”

“ The gypsy scowled, but was keen to take observations.
"I reckon I'll know who are my real friends better than some people do," replied Isa, meaningly. "I'll have so many friends that I just hope I'll not have to pick out the meanest of the whole to go with; I just hope I'll not be such a stupid as that, and then feel cross when anybody says she isn't perfect."
Grace smiled, and so did the other girls. It was plain that Isa was so dazzled as to come very near fancying herself a great lady already. The glances which passed between the girls did not escape the sharp eyes of the gypsy. ”

“ You never fly out of patience! O, Cassy Hallock, I think you're splendid!"
As this was not the first time Cassy had been eulogized as "splendid," she was by no means astonished, but continued to move quietly along, with her usual composure. Grace Clifford seemed a little nervous. Every now and then she would drop her friend's hand, and gather a few blades of grass, or pick up a pebble, then seize Cassy's hand again, and walk on. Cassy watched her companion with some curiosity. "Now, Gracie Clifford," said she at last, "you're keeping something to yourself; I just know you are." ”

“ Like many Western houses, this cottage had no front hall, and you stepped at once into the parlor. The girls were greeted by a dense cloud of smoke, which quite filled the room. Grace fancied for a moment that this strange woman had been invoking some sort of a spell with the aid of magic, and looked about her, half expecting to see "black spirits and white" floating in the air. But if spirits there were, they could not be discerned through the smoke, which was pouring out through the acorn-shaped stove in the corner. ”

“ I'll have to tell him which way to vote."
The girls looked rather scornful as they pictured to themselves an imaginary Horace, tall and twenty-one, anxiously inquiring of his sister what ticket he should throw into the ballot-box.
"Now, you see," said Grace, "it's very absurd to make a fuss that way over boys. They feel it. It sets them up on a throne."
"O, yes, I reckon it does, Gracie. Isn't it right funny now to look at boys, and see the airs they put on?"
"It is so," said Grace, sweeping back her curls with a gesture of disdain. "There's their secret societies, Cassy." ”

“ You'll be bit by a rattlesnake, and won't live a day after you're sixteen year old."
Grace tried to laugh. "Come, girls," said she, "let's go."
"You're an awful unlucky child," cried the gypsy, pointing her finger at Grace, who did not look quite humble enough yet. "You're very peart now; but trouble's coming: now you mark my words."
So saying, the crazy woman arose to enter the house; but as she saw the smoke still clouding the air, a new freak seized her bewildered brain. She quite forgot her character of fortune-teller, and shouted aloud, "I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness. ”

“ Ah, who does not know the flutter at the heart when the "three committee-men," or "trustees," knock; and are solemnly asked in and seated? Some of us have felt this flutter for the last time; but you children will understand just how the girls felt that day, with parents, older sisters, and neighbors to look on and criticise.
Tall Miss Allen looked serene, but there was a tremulous motion of her mouth and fingers. On her desk was a vase of beautiful flowers, which Grace had brought, carefully shielded under her sun-umbrella. ”

“ Barbara listened in indignant silence, only asking at last, "What for a baby would she be now, if she goes to cut her teeth and doesn't cry?"
"Bravo! Chalk Eyes," cried Horace, suddenly rushing out upon Phebe, "none of your grumbling."
"O, Horace," whispered Grace, reprovingly, "hush saying Chalk Eyes.
Haven't you any feeling for poor discolored creatures?
"Poh, Gracie! Niggroes don't feel any worse than we do. Come, let's play catch."
They played till they were called into the parlor to learn their
Sabbath school lessons.
Grace's last waking thought was about the new society. ”

“ They should not fall. Nobody would understand that she was crying for joy!
When Mahla whispered to Grace that night, "O, Gracie, I wouldn't have had it but for you, dear!" it would be hard to tell which was the happier girl, grateful Mahla Linck, or noble Grace Clifford.
Nobody but the Lincks, the Cliffords, and Cassy ever knew the whole story. If people had heard it, they would have foolishly praised Grace for her beautiful simplicity of conduct. Then Grace might possibly have grown proud and self-conscious, and that would have spoiled all. ”

“ Grace thought her father would not listen to her story as coolly as her mother had done.
"What's this I hear about a prize?" said he that evening. And Grace grew quite eager again, describing the benevolent looks and manners of the trustees, and declaring that the prize must be something elegant, everybody said. "But how did you hear of it, pa?"
"Your head trustee and I talked the matter over yesterday."
"You didn't approve of it, Henry?" asked Mrs. Clifford, looking surprised.
"I did, Maria; why not? Dear knows there's need enough of ambition in our schools." ”

“ I'd like her to tell something new."
"So she does," cried the girls, with breathless eagerness; "she can foretell things, and they do come to pass, too,—things that make your hair stand on end."
"I wonder!" said timid Lucy Lane, shivering, and looking behind her.
"O, fie! Lucy," said. Grace, patronizingly; "don't you be a bit afraid, dear; it's all a sham. I can foretell as well as Mrs. Gypsy. I'll foretell what we're going to have for dinner—a dog in a blanket."
"There, now," laughed Diademia; "I've heard of eating roasted horses, but I didn't know it ever came to cats and dogs." ”

“ In grammar, again, Grace and Mahla were well matched. If there was any difference, Mahla excelled in giving rules, for her verbal memory was excellent.
The trustees were surprised to find the two rivals so well informed, while at the same time they were puzzled as to any preference. They whispered together. Mr. Reynolds rubbed his spectacles as if they would help him see his way clear; Dr. Snow scratched his learned head, and Mr. Newell leaned backward in his chair to meditate.
The audience felt somewhat as people feel in a court-room when the jury are out deciding an interesting case. ”

“ Prudy loved Mahla Linck at once. She said she had had just such a lameness her own self, and knew how it felt. "Ah, little dear," said Mahla, laying her wasted cheek close to Prudy's, "but you can walk now without a crutch, and I never can."
"O, Mahla, yes, you can never; you can when you grow an angel."
The Princesses liked to escort Prudy through the streets, and hear her exclamations of surprise. She told them the "Yankees wouldn't 'buze their horses so;" for it seemed to her rather unkind to braid their tails like heads of hair, and tie them up in knots ”

“ What vexes me, Cassy, is the way they look down on us girls, and boast that they can keep secrets and we can't, when it's no such a thing, Cassy Hallock, as you and I very well know—we that have kept secrets for years and years, and never, never told, and never will to our dying days! ”

“ Barbara went on with her knitting, the clock went on with its ticking, and the cat still stared at Grace. Presently Barbara dropped another stitch. "Miss Grace," said she, "does you write to little Prudy Parlin?"
"No, Barby; to Cassy. But seems to me you're amazingly wide awake."
"Yes, dear; I doesn't feel sleepy a bit."
Sharp words were on Grace's tongue again; but she said gently, after a pause,—"Barby, will you please not talk? It troubles me."
"Bless your little white heart," cried Barby, turning about, and putting her feet on the stove hearth, "not a word more will I speak." ”

“ Clifford noticed at once. She sent her letter to the post-office by her father, then had a frolic with Horace, who was rather "wildish," and with little Katie, who, for a wonder, did not appear to be cutting a tooth that morning, and was "as cunning as a baby can be and live."
As Grace entered the school-room, she met Mahla Linck, whose white face warmed to a glow at her friendly greeting.
"She's the girl that thinks it's of no use to try for the prize," thought Grace. "Poor thing, I'll soon make her understand that she needn't be afraid of Grace Clifford." ”

“ It just makes me love Mahla dearly."
Cassy's brown eyes kindled with sympathy; but she exclaimed, suddenly,—
"Come, let's go in the kitchen and talk German with Barby."
Horace set by the white table, sighing over his Geography.
Robert came in, looking mischievous. "What say to a story, girls?" said he, glancing at Grace. "I'll begin with a landscape, book-fashion:—
"Twas a lovely evening in May. The aged stars were twinkling as good as new; the moon was 'resting her chin' against a cloud: the serene heavens—"
"Stop," cried Horace; "that's not a landscape: it's a skyscape." ”