Love stories; Success -- Fiction; United States -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Youth -- Fiction
"Oh, but I couldn't think of it!" exclaimed Evelyn, recovering her
courage. "I have had no experience in such matters! Why, that would be
politics!--and I have always felt,--it has seemed to me,--I simply can't
consider it!"
She had gained her composure now. She had been called a bachelor of
arts, and she felt an impulse to laugh.
"Ah! we had expected that it would seem strange to you at first," said
Mrs. Atherton, who appeared to be in charge of the grand strategy of the
call, while Miss Morris carried the rapid firing guns and Mrs. Wingate
lent moral support, as of a shore battery.
Mrs. Atherton had risen.
"We have all set our hearts on it, and you must not decline. Think it
over well, and when you come to the first meeting of the Council in
September, you will, I am sure, be convinced of your duty."
"Yes; a very solemn obligation that wealth and education have laid upon
you," Miss Morris amplified.
"A solemn obligation," echoed Mrs. Wingate.
The three filed out, Miss Morris leading the way, while Mrs. Atherton
lingeringly covered their retreat with a few words that were intended to
convey a knowledge of the summer frivolities then pending.
"I should be very glad to have you come to see me at my rooms," said
Miss Morris, wheeling in her short skirt as she reached the door. "I
have rooms in the AEtna Building."
"Do come and see us, too," murmured the convoy, smiling in relief as
they turned away.
Evelyn sat down in the nearest chair and laughed.
"I wonder whether they think college has made me like that?" she asked
herself.
At dinner she gave her father a humorous account of the interview. Grant
was away dining with a playmate and they were alone. Porter was in one
of his perverse moods, and he began gruffly:
"I should like to know why not! Haven't I spent thousands of dollars on
your education? The lady was right; you are, at least so I have
understood, a bachelor of arts. Why a bachelor I'm sure I don't know--"
He was buttering a bit of bread with deliberation and did not look at
Evelyn, who waited patiently, knowing that he would have his whim out.
"It seems to me," he went on, "a proper recognition of your talents and
education, and also of me, as one of the oldest citizens of Clarkson. I
tell you it is good to get a little recognition once in a while. I have
a painful recollection of having been defeated for School Commissioner
about ten years ago. Now here's a chance for the family to redeem
itself. Of course you accepted the nomination, and after your election
I'll expect you to bring the school funds to my bank, and I'll say to
you now that the directors will do the right thing by you."
He was still avoiding Evelyn's eyes, but his humor was growing impatient
for recognition.
"Now, father!" she pleaded, and they laughed together.
"Father," she said seriously, "I don't want these people here to get an
idea that I'm not an ordinary being."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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