FullReads

“Dear flo’wr so cal’m and pu’re and bri’ght That op’nest in’ the qu’i-et nig’ht.”

And as she recited it she made gestures in all directions, first to one side, then to the other, just such floppy gestures as Ole Man Scarecrow would have made. That is, sometimes they looked like that, and sometimes her arms looked like the arms of a windmill. And her frizzy pigtails swished around with her arms–just like the sails of a windmill that had suddenly gone mad. The people started to titter, and Jehosophat started to giggle with them, when suddenly he thought of his own plight, and little shivers ran up and down his back, and his face felt very flushed and warm.

Then there were more songs by “Theentireschool”–and more pieces. My, would they never end! And then there were speeches by the Presidentboardeducation and the Trustees, who seemed to appreciate the privilege more than most of the pupils, Jehosophat thought, for they never stopped when they had the chance.

He looked out of the window. Over by the orchard, he could hear a flicker go “Rat-a-tat-tat,” boring away at the old apple tree. The sun was shining nice and warm, and he wondered if he couldn’t climb up on his seat, and drop out of the open window, and run away ever so far. He was supposed to “do his parents proud”; and if there was anything he hated, it was “doing somebody proud.” Oh, golly!

“The boy stood on the burning deck.”

Once or twice he repeated it to himself. Yes, he knew it all right. But just then Fatty Hamm, who sat behind him, leaned over and whispered,–

“Don’t forget the peanuts, Joshy!”

Jehosophat frowned and tried not to pay any attention, but the Presidentboardeducation had taken out his spectacles and was reading from a paper.

“Recitation by—-.” He couldn’t seem to understand the name and put on his glasses a little nearer the end of his nose,

“Recitation by Je-hos-o-phat Green!”

How loud it sounded!

The Presidentboardeducation was looking all over the room.

“Come, come,” he said, “where is Jehosophat?”

Now that boy couldn’t rise, for the tail of his jacket had slid down in the crack of the seat, and Fatty Hamm was holding it tight so he couldn’t even move.

Again the spectacles of the Presidentboardeducation looked over the children in grave surprise. They lighted on Jehosophat.

“Come, come, my little man, there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

And the Presidentboardeducation smiled on him, with that sort of smile “grownups” always put on when they’re going to “do something for your good,” like pulling a tooth, for instance, or offering you castor oil.

There was a drone, too, of voices like the bees outside, and all eyes were looking at him. He didn’t dare look at his mother, who was hoping so hard that he would “do her proud,” or at his father, either. But he did glance once at the Toyman, who was sitting, looking very uncomfortable, in a boiled shirt and a stiff collar that almost choked his adam’s apple. His hair was slicked down extra tight, too, and he kept gazing down into his new store hat. He felt very sorry for himself, and even sorrier for Jehosophat.

But the Presidentboardeducation was saying,–

“Come, come,” again, and then,–

“Tut, tut!”

And all-of-a-sudden Fatty let go of his coat, and Jehosophat found himself on his feet and on his way to the platform.

He wanted to take a little of the glass of water that stood by the Presidentboardeducation–just one little sip–for his throat felt so dry and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. But he couldn’t.

He made the fine bow all right, and Mother looked at Father as much as to say,–

“There, I knew our boy could do it.”

And wonderfully he got through the first line,–“The boy stood on the burning deck.”

But then he just had to look at Fatty, and Fatty had just put a peanut up to his mouth–as a sort of signal, I guess.