Ethel Morton at Chautauqua Part 23

They took their contribution to the Amphitheatre and helped the others, who had been at work for some time, to arrange the flowers around the edge of the platform. The result was beautiful and the group was delighted when a hearty voice said suddenly, "Is this the United Service Club? I want to thank you for doing this for us. We've never looked so fine as this before on Old First Night."

"Thank you, thank you," they chorused in return as the Director left them.

It was a happy though weary group that chattered its way along the lake front and across Miller Park. No sooner had they reached the cottage than the Ethels told their story to Mrs. Morton with much laughter. For some reason she did not take the joke just as they would have liked to have her.

"You know it is against the rule? Everybody is expected to go out and enter through the gates."

"Oh, we know that. But what harm did it do? We weren't cheating the Inst.i.tution; we had our tickets."

"Suppose everybody did what you did. Can you see any objection?"

"It would look mighty funny," giggled Ethel Blue.

"It would be rather confusing, I suppose," admitted Ethel Brown; "they wouldn't be able to tell who had tickets and who hadn't."

"You don't really mind, do you, Aunt Marion?"

"I confess I shall have to make up a new opinion about my honest little girls," she replied slowly. "Have you thought what you are going to do about the punch on your tickets?"

This hint was alarming.

"What about the punch?"

"Everybody's ticket is punched on an odd number when you come in and on an even one when you go out. Your last punch was on an even number, when you went out this afternoon. What are you going to do when you want to go out again?"

Ethel Brown stared at Ethel Blue in dismay, and Ethel Blue's eyes began to fill with tears.

"It will be perfectly clear to the gateman that you came in in some improper way."

Mrs. Morton went into the dining-room to take a last look at the table and the Ethels went upstairs to dress. Somehow the fun of their adventure had faded away. In its place was a growing discomfort that was increasingly painful. They did not discuss their trouble and they put on clean dresses without their usual pleasure in their freshness and prettiness. Mrs. Morton did not allude to the subject again, and that gave the children additional feelings of uneasiness, for they felt that she was leaving the decision as to their future action entirely to them.

Roger, who was to pa.s.s a basket at the Amphitheatre, hurried through his supper and whooped to James as he pa.s.sed the Hanc.o.c.ks' house. The other members of the two families went later and more slowly, enjoying as they walked along the lake front the familiar tunes that the chimes were ringing out. As they climbed the hill they were sorry that they had not made an earlier start, for people were gathering in flocks and the organ was already playing. Once more they had to say, "This is the largest audience yet." This time it was remarkable for its number of old people, for it seemed as if everybody who ever had been at Chautauqua made a point of returning to join in the celebration of the Fortieth Anniversary.

The service arranged by Bishop Vincent for the opening night was used for the forty-first time, and tears ran down the cheeks of old men and women who recalled the pa.s.sing of the intervening years and gave their memento of esteem to the Chautauquans of bygone days when they joined the rest of the huge audience in lifting their handkerchiefs in a drooping salute to the dead.

The Chancellor introduced the President, and he, after a few words of historical reminiscence, introduced the speakers of the evening, a dozen of them, who spoke briefly and told some good stories. Between their speeches were sandwiched the events that make Old First Night different from any other night in the Amphitheatre. The members of the family of Mr. Miller, one of the founders of the Inst.i.tution, were honored by a waving Chautauqua salute, invented long ago for a deaf speaker and continued because of its beauty. Mrs. Thomas Edison, a daughter of Mr.

Miller, thanked the audience for its tribute to her father and called for a similar salute to the Vincent family.

"There's Miss Kimball standing with two other ladies to be saluted,"

cried Ethel Brown.

"And there's the president of the Women's Club with her," said Mrs.

Morton.

Old songs were sung and "Dixie" brought a large Southern contingent to its feet. Mr. Vincent joked and cajoled his hearers while messengers and ushers gathered several thousand dollars, the Old First Night gift.

Best fun of all were the roll calls. Between sixty and seventy were present who had been a part of the original Old First Night. Thirty-two persons rose as having been at Chautauqua for forty-one summers and a Chautauqua salute sent them happily to their seats, for a Chautauqua salute is an honor, not achieved every day. "I've been waiting twenty-five years for this," said a professor in one of the Summer Schools who received the distinction as a "Good-bye" before a trip to Europe.

By way of gaining an idea of the breadth of Chautauqua's call, dwellers in different parts of the world and of the United States were called to their feet. A small group rose as from New England; a very large group from New York and Pennsylvania. The South stood solid in large parties all over the auditorium, and the West had sent many representatives. The showing from Canada and parts of the world outside of our own country was by no means small.

"Who are the people on the platform beside the speakers?" Helen asked Mrs. Hanc.o.c.k who sat next her.

"The officers and trustees of the Inst.i.tution, almost all of the 'old originals' and some people of distinction who happen to be on the grounds."

Then they left the Amphitheatre to go to the lake front for the fireworks and found themselves pa.s.sing through a forest of brilliant lanterns swinging from the trees and casting their soft light on the paths and gra.s.s. Thousands of happy people, some wet-eyed with memories, some wide-eyed with wonder, walked beneath them, talking of days gone by and days to come.

So large was the Morton-Emerson-Hanc.o.c.k group that Mrs. Morton did not notice until she was almost at her own door that the Ethels were not near her.

"They were in the Amphitheatre," she said.

"I saw them coming out," cried Margaret.

"We'll wait a few minutes and then if they don't come Roger must look for them," said Mrs. Morton anxiously.

But before she had had many minutes of anxiety the two girls came running up to the porch. They were laughing happily now, and in quite a different mood from that in which they had left the house earlier in the evening.

"What in the world have you been doing, children?" asked Grandmother Emerson. "Your dresses are covered with dirt."

"Mother knows."

"Aunt Marion can guess."

"I'm sure I don't and I can't. What have you been up to?"

"It's all right about our ticket," nodded Ethel Brown gleefully.

"How can that be?"

"We were so worried about the punching coming out wrong that as soon as we left the Amphitheatre we ran up to that hole in the fence and crawled out again, and then we ran down the road as fast as we could to the trolley gate and came in properly, so now our tickets punch all right."

"But there's still a hurt in my girls' consciences, isn't there?" asked Mrs. Morton, drawing them to her and kissing them "Good-night."

"You see," she went on, "when you broke a law of the Inst.i.tution you were not law-abiding citizens."

"But we weren't wicked, because we had our tickets--we weren't cheating."

"That's true, but laws are made to help communities to run smoothly. If you do not obey them you are not co-operating with the people who are working for the happiness of the whole body."

"'Co-operation'--that's just team-work," mused Roger.

"Right," confirmed Mr. Emerson. "Co-operation is what makes life easy to live, it's what produces results, it's what makes the world better. Be a co-operator."

"Me a co-op," agreed Roger cheerfully, while the Ethels sat silently on the steps and thought about it.

CHAPTER XIII