Missy

ish war; and she was seventeen

chers the list meant only the last young folks added to a backreaching line of girls and boys who for years and years had been coming to "Commencement" with "credits" few or many, large

Mi

who had been chosen to deliver the Valedictory. Did there ever exist a maid who did not thrill to proof that she was popular

tage, gazing with luminous eyes out on a darkened auditorium. Sometimes they had poky old lectures in that Opera House. Somebody named Ridgely Holman Dobson was billed to lecture there now-before Commencement; but Missy hated lectures; her vision was of something lifted far above such dismal, useful communications. She saw a house as hushed as when little Eva dies-all the people listening to the girl up there illumined: the lift and fall of her voice, the sentiments fin

n see the glossy, dark green background of potted palms-mother had promised to lend her two biggest ones. Yes, she could see it and hear it to the utmost completeness-save for one slight detail: that was the

vision; it would all come to her in time. M

et up early to study; had even punished her. And, now, she was sure Missy would let time slide by and never get the Valedictory written on time. The two had already "had word

ld utter an ugly,

put everything off!-put off-put off! Now

she also took along the big blue-bound Anthology from the living-room table-an oft-tapped fount; but even reading poetry didn't seem able to lift her to the creat

apt to show a little awe of father, but she knew he was enormously kind and sympathetic. Long ago-oh, years before-when she was a little girl, she used to find it easier to talk to him than to most grown-ups; about all kinds of unus

ing of her soul all laid, so to speak, uneasily awaited the divine spark. It was hard to maint

han compensated by the joy of creating, with their own fingers, new spring hats which won them praise and admiration. Kitty Allen's hat was particularly successful. It was a white straw "flat," faced and garlanded with blue. Missy look

ot a Domestic Science girl; but, finally, she went to Miss Ackerma

r of winning mother's consent. As Missy feared, M

got your hands full. Have y

er I'd learned how on my own, that maybe I could make you one. Do you remember that adorable violet straw you used to have when I was a little girl?-poke shape a

dear." But mother was smiling a soft

rown the poke shape-a

mustn't let it run away with you.

shine and a voice that could quaver; yes, and with an instin

ncers, and to evolve a strange, ghostly skeleton-thing called a "frame," but when this was finally covered

so much in neckties-and the facing shell-pink, a delicate harmony; but the supreme ecstasy came with placing the little silken flowers, pink and mauve and deeper subtle-blue, in effective composition upon that heavenly background; and, in just the one place, a glimpse of subtle-blue ribbon, a sheen

thin you, stealing out to tangibility in colour and form

of unsabbatical pride; father jocosely said she'd better relinquish her dreams of literary fame else she'd deprive the world of a fine milliner; and even mother admitted that Mrs.

een, with cool-looking leaves and wired silver gauze very pure and bright like angels' wings-dear Aunt Nettie didn't have much "taste," and Missy indulged in a certain righteous glow in thus providing her with a really becoming, artistic hat. Then, after Aunt Nettie's, she planned one for Marguerite. Marguerite was the hired girl, mulatto, and had the

ts about "this hat mania," when, by the most fortuitous chance, while she was working on Marguerite's ver

always interested her, and even with a hat on her mind she paused a moment to look over the titles. The top volume was "Ships That Pass in the Night"-she had read that a year or

ewn, and a distant voice in the darkness; So, on the ocean of life, we pass and

r work, fingers dawdled while eyes took on a dreamy, preoccupied expression. For phrases were still f

far, right out on the vast, s

ays meeting one another-only a look and a v

tal pretense, but a real idea, "deep," stirring an

just to listen to those phrases faintly and suggestively resounding. All the talk around her ca

father

eam, Missy?-thinki

rgot to note that his

seriously, "I haven't f

n heard these days, "she's been frittering away the w

without thinkin

, I have

other interested

blushed-grown-ups seldom und

d diffidently, "I'

t?" persis

the cream over her berries, took a mouthful

in the Night,'"

ted Aunt Nettie. "What're yo

to write about it. Everything was still in the first vague, delightful state of just feeling it-without any words as

t out exactly-it's just s

over you?" deman

Life," replied M

ke!" commented A

ng?-he had such a queer look in his eyes. But, as he left the table,

ut for a spin

swiftly. "No, Missy must wor

ut there-just the kind of evening to harmonize with her uplifted mood. Day was ending in still and brilli

ng," Missy began to

t gazing at it as she chewed her pencil; but no words came to be caught down in pencilled tangibility. Oh,

r when, finally, she w

wn heart. Why were words, relatively so much less than inspiration, yet so im

y out at the street lamp down at the corner; the glow brought out

nly a look"... "But who can comprehend the unfathomable influence of a look?-It may come to a soul wounded and

to ponder deeply. But they had come; that was a promising token. To-morrow more would come; the Valedictory

hite standing on a lighted stage, gazing with luminous eyes out on a darkened auditorium, a house as hushed as when little Eva dies. All th

ss and speak one another... Only a look and a voice... But who can comprehend the unfathomable i

reaches of sombre sky. She liked it to be rainy when she woke up-there was something about leaden colour everywhere and falling rain that made you fit for nothing but placid star

nd the-the-the unfathomable influence of a lo

How did

heterogeneous mass of whirling colours, and her thoughts, too, seemed to be just a confused and meaningless jumble. Only her FEELING seem

most disliked mother. Then she discovered that Nicky, her little brother, had mischievously hidden her strap of books and, all of a sudden, she did an unheard-of thing: she slapped him! Nicky was so astonished he didn't cry; he didn't even run and tell mother, but Missy, seeing that hurt, bewildered look on

she was warned by the teacher-and not too privately-that if she wasn't careful she'd fail to pass; and that, of course, would mean she couldn't

ed in for approval, and was already past due. Professor Sutton was very stern with her; he said some kind of an outline, anyway, had to be in by the end of the week.

lt for her preoccupied mind to find the right answer in the right place. He was talking about the celebrity who was to give the "Lyceum Course" lecture that evening. The lecturer's name was Dobson. Oh uninspiring name!-Ridgeley Holman Dobson. He was a celebrity because he'd d

es old Miss Lightner

rer kiss anybody, above all Miss Lightner, who was an old maid and not attractive d

ed at her in

't you hear

hook he

women knock each other down to kiss him! The papers

immediate relatives and some of her girl friends, but she had her dreams of kisses-kisses such as the poets wrote about. Kissing was something fine, beautiful, sacred! As sacred as getting married. But th

s disgusting

s of her tone Raymond glan

all right," replied Raymond, who was secretly much impressed by the da

f! I think he's disgusting. I would

m beginning. As often happens when the mind is restless, she had an acute desire to do something with her hands. She wanted to go ahead with Marguerite's hat, but mother, who had a headache a

your mind, "Now, write!" Your mind can't write, can it?-till it knows what i

ite. Mother was too ill to be at

s headache, have you?"

as her soul that ached. Perhaps father sensed something of

lecture with me to-night. Mamma says

ason for her reluctance mightn't be understood-might even arouse hateful me

wants me to wo

with mother all ri

would be easier to go than to try getting out of it. She wouldn't have to pay a

his as if she were a grown-up. Walking with him thus, not talking very much but feeling the placidity and sense of safety

narrowly she had missed seeing Dobson. The narrow margins of fate! What if she

m staid Cherryvale matrons who were regular subscribers to the Lyceum Course, but

r him as it is not possible to admire a man who looks as if he ought to run up a tree and chatter and swing from a limb by a tail; besides he was well known to be "stingy." But his soul must be all right, since he was a deacon; and he w

eem

able with the glass and pitcher of water on it. Missy felt cons

lecturers to be, and tall and slender, with awfully goodlooking clothes, and had dark eyes

saying, but just sat there listening to the pleasing flow of his voice and noting the graceful sweep of his hands-she must remember tha

look. This woman-kissing siren!-or whatever you call men that are like women sirens. Well, she,

eir seats. Missy glanced about, suspicious yet alertly inquisitive. Would the women rush up and kiss him? Her eyes rested on prim Mrs. Siddons, on silly Miss Lightner, on f

aisle toward the lecturer; some were already

lf uttering an amazing

up and shake hands wit

rself. Why had she said that? She didn't

er was a

? You

She felt her cheeks growing hot, and wanted to look away. But, now,

aybe, it might be interesting to s

but, taking hold of her arm, he began to

ssy felt a sudden panicky flutt

rst," she

nd shook hands with Mr

s my da

ir on the back of it-he ought to do something about that; but even as she thought this, the hand was enclosing her

you're a man to

back of them. And, then, the queerest thing happened. As he looked at her, that half-veiled laugh in his eyes seemed t

a swift, tumultuo

same expression-Missy was sure of that. She walked on after her father in a kind of daze.

omeward journey; she intensely wan

fellow. I suppose a lot has been exaggerated." He chuckled. "But

re up inside her. "He wouldn't act that way! anybody

sy was too engrossed with her resentment and w

ft her off to dreams. She was hearing over and over, in a kind of lullaby, a deep, melodious voice: "Your daughter?-you'r

th of gossipy surmise anent the disappointing oscu

k that way! Anybody can see

Bonner

t you said he

ed and walked away, leaving him to ponder th

t to work on hats; this last was a curious turn, indeed, and to a wise observer might have been significant. She had only a desire to be alone, and was grateful for the excuse

even in Missy. Aunt Nettie, smiling, once started to make a comment but, unseen by his dreaming daughter, was silenced by Mr. Merriam

probably been there-lecturers usually were great travellers. He'd probably been everywhere-led a thrilling sort of life-the sort of life that makes one interesting. Oh, if only she could talk to him-just once. She sighed. Why didn't interesting people like that ever come to Cherryvale to live? Everybody in Cherryvale was so-so commonplace. Like Bill Cummings, the red-haired bank teller, who thought a trip to St. Louis an adventure t

u'll catch your death of cold

rs must be obeyed, and Missy had to trudge

as a washtub, painfully laborious breath, and a wild impulse to sneeze every other minute. Mother, who was an

ouse so late," she chided as, with one tentative finger, s

d to leave

mot

iently Mrs. Merriam

handing me my ta

here in

aybe I might get an inspiration or somethi

ed to pull the shawl round Missy's shoulders a little closer; Missy always loved mother t

glad to be

et. She was seeing a pair of bright dark eyes smiling intimately into her own. Presently, with a dreamy, abstracted smile, she opened the tablet, poised the pencil, and

o take your feet

Aunt Nettie in the door. What was she talk

won't you, please?"

away. But Missy was oblivious; the inspired pencil was speeding back and forth again-"Then

..

no notice. Then someone entered, bearing a pitcher of hot water; but the author gav

wn her arms, out through her hand and pencil, wrote themselves immortally. Oh, this was Inspiration! Feeling at last immeshed in tangibility, swimming out on a tide of

encil

For the gloom will grow greater and greater; there will be no sympathy to tide it over the rocks; no momentary gleams of love to help it through its struggle; and th

e encompassing gloom. Let them not be wrapped in their own selfishness or sorrow, but let their voice be filled

r chair and sighed a deep sigh. All of a sudden she felt tired, tired; but it i

ere, rubbing her feet with t

eep covered up a

s to object. But, from under

ledictory if you wan

w, individual experience, each one of them, doubtless, as firmly convinced as the class Valedictorian

identical spot where once stood the renowned Dobson-gazing with luminous eyes out on the darkened auditorium. It was crowded out there but intensely quiet, for all the people were listening to the girl up

calloused to these trite figures, are they not solemnly true enough, and moving enough, if you take them to heart? And with that slim chi

h is understood as though an intense ray pierced the enveloping pall and laid bare both souls. That signal is the light fr

dous on all these dear Souls who had sailed

se that influence for brightening the encompassing gloom... For, by so doing

bowed, there was a moment of hush-and then the applause began. Oh, what applause! And then, slowly, grac

assembled in the "reserved section," overheard such murmurs as: "And she's seventeen!-Where do young folks get those ideas?"-and, "What an unusual gift of phraseology!" And, after the programme, a r

re zealously than ever. She would have preferred to share this triumphant hour with-with-well, with someone older and more experienced and better able to understand. But she liked Raymon

ing together in that pride-tinged-with-sadn

er s

and then that special spell of idle mooning ove

ed through

es, "that there is something in Inspiration, and the dear child just had to wait

a friend than a parent, and that faint, unnoted stress was the