Winning the Game
How Class Day ended and how she got into her own room in the hotel, Mary Jane never in the world could have told you. She had a hazy recollection of singing, and lights, and crowds of people passing and re-passing; of more singing, and more lights, flashing through water and of people stopping to talk to her mother and Uncle Hal and their friends; of Mr. Echart inquiring about her shoe, and of Uncle Hal slipping on the black pumps that he must have gone to his room to get, and putting the white ones in his pocket. And then, later, of being picked up and carried to a taxi and of dozing comfortably against her mother during a long ride. But more than that she didn’t know.
And now the sun was shining and her mother was standing at the side of the bed, dressed and ready to go and asking if Mary Jane was ever going to wake up.
“Is it all over?” asked Mary Jane sleepily, “Class Day and everything all over?”
“Class Day is over,” replied Mrs. Merrill, “but everything isn’t. Don’t you remember that to-day is the game, the baseball game between Harvard and Yale?”
“Oh, yes,” said Mary Jane sitting up in bed and wide awake at once, “it’s the game Harvard wins and we see ’em do it.”
“You certainly are loyal enough to suit even your Uncle Hal!” exclaimed Mrs. Merrill laughingly. “He never will forget how you told everyone within hearing that you were going to Harvard when you grew up.”
“Did I really, Mother?” cried Mary Jane in dismay, “when?” She forgot all about being sleepy and sat straight up in bed.
“Yes, my dear, you did,” replied Mrs. Merrill. “When Hal was trying to wake you up enough to get you into the taxi you said you didn’t want to leave Harvard and that you were going to be president of the Crimson like Uncle Hal. And then, when he told you that you were too young, you announced that you were coming when you grew up.”
“Well, anyway, Mother,” interrupted Alice anxious to comfort her sister, “we are coming to Wellesley, you know, that’s all settled and Wellesley is almost Harvard.”
“Don’t you worry!” laughed Mrs. Merrill, “Uncle Hal wasn’t bothered. He was so proud to have you like it all and so pleased the way you met all his friends, that he liked to have you want to come—you just ask him to-day and you’ll see.
“Now,” she continued briskly, “I know you’re sleepy, but you hurry up and jump into the tub. I have the water ready, and then when you’re through, you’ll find a lovely surprise.”
“Do I know, Mother?” asked Alice.
“No,” replied Mrs. Merrill, “and you never in the world could guess, so don’t try. While Mary Jane tubs, I’ll brush and braid your hair and by that time the surprise will be coming and you’ll be ready for it. And don’t hurry too fast, Mary Jane,” she added, “you want to scrub as well as tub, you know.”
It was a good thing she gave that warning, for even with a warning Mary Jane hurried so furiously fast that there was no time wasted over details. But she felt fresh and clean anyway and was wide awake and glowing from her rub.
“Now where’s the surprise?” she asked.
“Slip into the bathroom again both of you—scoot!” and at that minute there was a loud knock on the door.
“Now whatever do you suppose—” wondered Alice as she heard her mother open the door of the room and talk to someone.
They had not long to wait—fortunately. A couple of minutes and Mrs. Merrill opened the bathroom door and—what do you suppose they saw?
Drawn up near the windows that overlooked Copley Square was a cunning little table and on the table was—you never would guess—breakfast for three! Strawberries and cream and cereal and milk and eggs and toast and hashed brown potatoes—the hot things all on silver dishes and covered with big silver covers to keep them nice and hot while the fruit and cereal were being eaten.
“Mother!” exclaimed Mary Jane, and then she stopped for she couldn’t think of anything to say.
“How’d you ever think of it?” asked Alice.
“I didn’t,” answered Mrs. Merrill, and the girls saw that she was as pleased as they were with the idea. “Hal thought of it. When he brought us up last night he suggested that maybe we’d be tired this morning and that we shouldn’t hurry. He said he’d order it as he went away and that I should ring when we were ready and they’d bring it up.”
“And you did, and they did,” added Mary Jane, not very intelligently to be sure, but they all knew what she meant.
“How did he know what to order?” asked Alice as she took the first luscious bit of strawberry.
“I guess he just ordered what he saw you liked yesterday, which was a very good way to do,” said Mrs. Merrill. “Now while we eat, let’s plan what to do to-day.”
“When is the game?” asked Alice.
“Not till afternoon,” replied Mrs. Merrill. “I thought maybe this morning would be a good time to take that ride through Boston that we didn’t get on Monday—that won’t tire us, and anyway, we’ll just be sitting at the game, it won’t be a lot of walking like yesterday.”
“And I won’t wear white shoes, will I?” asked Mary Jane with a pang of recollection.
“You poor child!” cried Mrs. Merrill, “as soon as we get through breakfast I must see about those shoes and your foot! I can’t see why they should have given so much trouble when they seemed all right.”
“I guess they’re all right now,” said Mary Jane, “but when are we going to ride on the swan boats? Uncle Hal said I could ride every day and we didn’t even go there yesterday!”
“I thought we had enough to do yesterday as it was,” laughed Mrs. Merrill. “Let’s see, we might go there at the end of our ride. We are having such a late breakfast too that we won’t want much lunch—would that be all right?”
Breakfast over, Alice finished dressing while Mary Jane had her hair brushed and the big ribbon tied on; then she finished dressing while her mother and Alice got out hats and tidied the room ready to go. Mary Jane would have loved to linger all morning at the window, for the comfy chairs felt so good and there was always something interesting to watch in the Square below. But when one goes to Boston, they don’t seem to expect to sit in chairs at windows; they seem to hurry around and see something every minute—Mary Jane had discovered that.
They went nearly halfway around the Square, leaving Mary Jane’s shoes at a little basement shop they were referred to on the way, and then they got into a great blue automobile that took folks around the city. Mary Jane tried to remember everything they saw, for she could tell that when she grew up big like Alice and was in eighth grade as Alice was, she too would want to know all about the historical sights they were seeing. Alice seemed to know all about the Old South Church, the Boston Navy Yard, the first court house and the funny, narrow winding streets. For her part, Mary Jane liked the Navy Yard best, for there they got out of the car and saw many sorts of government boats. Also they had the fun of going all over the old ship Constitution—a famous boat of long ago. Mary Jane thought the funny little cannon they used in those days looked very queer compared with the great big guns they could see on the boats in use now—they looked like toy cannon ready for a boy’s Fourth of July!
Back in the big auto again they drove through the tenement district, and there Mary Jane held her breath many a time for the streets were so very narrow, the buildings so high and close, and the ragged, hungry looking children ran across the streets in a reckless way that frightened Mary Jane nearly to death. She was glad when they left that part of the city and drove to see Bunker Hill Monument.
It seemed a very small monument to make such a fuss about, but Mrs. Merrill explained that monuments are important not for their size but for what they celebrate.
“It does seem too bad, though,” said Mary Jane thoughtfully as they turned away to go back to the car, “that the battle of Bunker Hill couldn’t have been where those poor children want to play! Here’s a lovely park and there, why, there isn’t anything but a narrow street! When I grow up, I’m going to have a park for everybody—that’s the way things ought to be.”
Mrs. Merrill had the driver let them out at the entrance to the Commons instead of Copley Square, and they walked over to the lagoon to take the ride in the swan boats.
“I think this is the nicest thing to do!” exclaimed Mary Jane happily as the boat slowly paddled away from the tiny dock. “I feel so grand and story-book-y!”
“Do you suppose we could ever come here and just ride and ride and ride?” she added, “I’d just love to ride all day!”
“Let me see,” said Mrs. Merrill thoughtfully, “I’m afraid we couldn’t ride all day, dear, but we might come again after the game this afternoon and get two or three rides. You know a friend of Uncle Hal’s is going to take us on a drive to-morrow and there’s something planned for every single day.”
“Well, then,” said Mary Jane, “let’s come whenever we can—and oh, I do just love it, I do!”
After a hurried bit of primping at their room the Merrills took the subway to Cambridge where they met Uncle Hal and went to the game. Crowds of gayly-dressed people were all hurrying the same way, bands were playing and colors flying, and Mary Jane got so thrilled that for a while she forgot all about the swan boats. Hal had not been able to get seats all together—one rarely could, he explained; so it was decided that Alice, who was looking (and feeling) very grown-up with her striped sport skirt, blue smock and white sport hat, should sit a few rows away with Lawrence Echart, while Hal and Mrs. Merrill and Mary Jane should sit together.
Alice’s seat was halfway down in the middle of the stand and the others were up on the very top row. At first Mary Jane was very frightened; she couldn’t stand up, she couldn’t look around, for right there behind her was the end of the grandstand and the long, long way down to the ground—straight down. But gradually she got more used to it and she peeked around just a wee, tiny bit.
And there, right in the next row, was a boy about her own age shouting for—Yale!
“Why!” exclaimed Mary Jane in amazement, “he wants Yale to beat!”
“Some people do!” laughed Hal, much amused.
“But Yale!” exclaimed Mary Jane, “why—why—I thought everybody went to Harvard!”
The folks around her couldn’t help but hear and they couldn’t help being amused at her frankness. One kindly-looking gentleman just in front turned around and said, “Yes, my dear, folks do go to Yale—I did it myself.” And everyone laughed.
Usually Mary Jane was very quiet, but the bands and flying colors and crowds of people must have excited her, for she suddenly forgot all about the long distance to the ground—just behind; she grabbed her mother’s hand and climbed up on the bench; she waved her crimson banner high over her head and shouted at the top of her small voice, “I’m for Harvard! I want Harvard to win!”
And sure enough, Harvard did.