The Scarlet Leaves
“The Committee will please come to order!” said Maine.
“What’s up?” asked Massachusetts, pausing in her occupation of peeling chestnuts.
“Why, you know well enough, Massachusetts. Here it is Wednesday, and we don’t know yet what we are going to do on Friday evening. We must do something, or go shamed to our graves. Never a senior class has missed its Frivolous Friday, since the school began.”
“Absolutely no hope of the play?”
“None! Alma’s part is too important; no one could possibly take it at two days’ notice. Unless—they say Chicago has a real gift for acting; but somehow, I don’t feel as if she were the person.”
“I should bar that, positively,” put in Tennessee. “In the first place, Chicago has not been here long enough to be identified with the class. She is clever, of course, or she could not have entered junior last year; but—well, it isn’t necessary to say anything more; she is out of the question.”
“It is too exasperating!” said Massachusetts. “Alma might have waited another week before coming down with measles.”
“It’s harder for her than for any one else, Massachusetts,” said Maine. “Poor dear; she almost cried her eyes out yesterday, when the spots appeared, and there was no more doubt.”
“Yes, I know that; she is a poor, unfortunate Lamb, and I love her, you know I do; still, a growl may be permitted, Maine. There’s nothing criminal in a growl. The question is, as you were saying, what shall we do?”
“A dance?”
“We had a dance last week!” said Maine; “at least the sophomores did, and we don’t want to copy them.”
“A straw-ride?”
“A candy-pull?”
“A concert?”
“The real question is,” said Tennessee, cracking her chestnut leisurely, “what does Maine intend to do? If she thinks we made her Class President because we meant to arrange things ourselves, she is more ignorant than I supposed her. Probably she has the whole thing settled in her Napoleonic mind. Out with it, Moosetocmaguntic!”
Maine smiled, and looked round her. The Committee was clustered in a group at the foot of a great chestnut-tree, at the very edge of a wood. The leaves were still thick on the trees, and the October sun shone through their golden masses, pouring a flood of warmth and light down on the greensward, sprinkled with yellow leaves and half-open chestnut burrs. Massachusetts and Tennessee, sturdy and four-square as their own hills; Old New York and New Jersey, and Maine herself, a tall girl with clear, kind eyes, and a color that came and went as she talked. This was the Committee.
“Well,” said Maine, modestly. “I did have an idea, girls. I don’t know whether you will approve or not, but—what do you say to a fancy ball?”
“A fancy ball! at two days’ notice!”
“Penobscot is losing her mind. Pity to see it shattered, for it was once a fine organ.”
“Be quiet, Tennessee! I don’t mean anything elaborate, of course. But I thought we might have an informal frolic, and dress up in—oh, anything we happened to have. Not call it a dance, but have dancing all the same; don’t you see? There are all kinds of costumes that can be got up with very little trouble, and no expense to speak of.”
“For example!” said Massachusetts. “She has it all arranged, girls; all we have to do is to sit back and let wisdom flow in our ears.”
“Massachusetts, if you tease me any more, I’ll sit back, and let you do it all yourself. Well, then—let me see! Tennessee—to tell the truth, I didn’t sleep very well last night; my head ached; and I amused myself by planning a few costumes, just in case you should fancy the idea.”
“Quack! quack!” said Massachusetts. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, but you are a duck, and I must just show that I can speak your language. Go on!”
“Tennessee, I thought you might be an Indian. You must have something that will show your hair. With my striped shawl for a blanket, and the cock’s feather out of Jersey’s hat—what do you think?”
“Perfect!” said Tennessee. “And I can try effects with my new paint-box, one cheek stripes, the other spots. Hurrah! next!”
“Old New York, you must be a flower of some kind. Or—why not a basket of flowers? You could have a basket-work bodice, don’t you see? and flowers coming out of it all round your neck—your neck is so pretty, you ought to show it—”
“Or carrots and turnips!” said the irrepressible Massachusetts. “Call her a Harvest Hamper, and braid her lovely locks with strings of onions!”
“Thank you,” laughed Old New York, a slender girl whose flower-like beauty made her a pleasure to look at. “I think I’ll keep to the posy, Massachusetts. Go on, Maine! what shall Massachusetts be, and what will you be yourself?”
“Massachusetts ought by rights to be an apple, a nice fat rosy apple; but I don’t quite know how that can be managed.”
“Then I shall be a codfish!” said Massachusetts, decidedly. “I am not going to desert Mr. Micawber—I mean the Bay State. I shall go as a salt codfish. Dixi! Pass on to the Pine-Tree!”
“Why, so I might be a pine-tree! I didn’t think of that. But still, I don’t think I will; I meant to be October. The leaves at home are so glorious in October, and I saw some scarlet leaves yesterday that will be lovely for chaplets and garlands.”
“What are they? the maples don’t turn red here—too near the sea, I suppose.”
“I don’t know what they are. Pointed leaves, rather long and delicate, and the most splendid color you ever saw. There is just this one little tree, near the crossroad by the old stone house. I haven’t seen anything like it about here. I found it yesterday, and just stood and looked at it, it was so beautiful. Yes, I shall be October; I’ll decide on that. What’s that rustling in the wood? aren’t we all here? I thought I heard something moving among the trees. I do believe some one is in there, Massachusetts.”
“I was pulling down a branch; don’t be imaginative, my dear. Well, go on! are we to make out all the characters?”
“Why—I thought not. Some of the girls will like better to choose their own, don’t you think? I thought we, as the Committee, might make out a list of suggestions, though, and then they can do as they please. But now, I wish some of you others would suggest something; I don’t want to do it all.”
“Daisy will have to be her namesake, of course,” said Tennessee.
“Jersey can be a mosquito,” said Old New York; “she’s just the figure for it.”
“Thank you!” said Jersey, who weighed ninety pounds. “Going on that theory, Pennsylvania ought to go as an elephant, and Rhode Island as a giraffe.”
“And Chicago as a snake—no! I didn’t mean that!” cried Maine.
“You said it! you said it!” cried several voices, in triumph.
“The Charitable Organ has called names at last!” said Jersey, laughing. “And she has hit it exactly. Now, Maine, what is the use of looking pained? the girl is a snake—or a sneak, which amounts to the same thing. Let us have truth, I say, at all hazards.”
“I am sorry!” said Maine, simply. “I am not fond of Chicago, and that is the very reason why I should not call her names behind her back. It slipped out before I knew it; I am sorry and ashamed, and that is all there is to say. And now, suppose we go home, and tell the other girls about the party.”
The Committee trooped off across the hill, laughing and talking, Maine alone grave and silent. As their voices died away, the ferns nodded beside a great pine-tree that stood just within the border of the wood, not six yards from where they had been sitting. A slender dark girl rose from the fern-clump in which she had been crouching, and shook the pine-needles from her dress. Very cautiously she parted the screen of leaves, and looked after the retreating girls.
“That was worth while!” she said; and her voice, though quiet, was full of ugly meaning. “Snakes can hear, Miss Oracle, and bite, too. We’ll see about those scarlet leaves!”