Harper's Round Table, September 10, 1895 Part 3

_Miss James_. It is easy: _j'ai, tu es, il_--

_Ida_. Oh, please, Miss Sommerfield, go now, there's a dear, and speak English, so that you can report what he says.

_Miss Sommerfield_. All right. I go. There's no time like the present.

[_Exit._]

_Grace_. Madge, she's a darling.

_Madge_. I knew you would like her.

_Charlotte_. Girls, let's go on with our rehearsal. Has any one found a poem, or written one, for this occasion?

_Olive_. I have found a dainty thing on sea-weeds. Will you hear it?

_Madge_. Please, dear.

_Olive_ (_reads_):

The violet gems the forest, The daisy stars the field, And every wayside bank and brook Their fragrant treasures yield.

Oh, sweet the air of summer, With thoughts of G.o.d in flowers!

For bloom and beauty hand in hand Walk down the pa.s.sing hours.

But naught, dear child, is fairer, Nor lovelier tinting shows, Than those fair things which cradled are Where oft the storm-wind blows.

The sea-weed's hues are rarer Than painter's art can trace; And only fairy looms can weave The sea-weed's floating lace.

_Helen_. Why, Olive, that's just sweet. Where did you find it?

_Olive_. In my mother's day-book. Mother writes a poem now and then, and locks it up in her drawer. She says it isn't good enough to publish.

_Victoria_. It is good enough. The magazines print a lot of things not so good as that.

_Olive_. Thank you.

_Victoria_. Girls, do you want anything funny? My brother Charlie dashed off some rollicking lines for me last night.

_Charlotte_. Oh yes. Let's have something funny.

_Victoria_. It's arrant nonsense.

_Madge_:

"A little nonsense now and then,"

Said good old Dr. Lee, "Is relished by the best of men.

That's just the case with me."

The doctor was jumping a rope when he said that.

_Victoria_ (_reads_):

ODE TO A CLAM.

Oh! clam at high-water, Here's somebody's daughter A sighing and crying your measure to take; She cares for you only, Poor bivalve so lonely, Because you are good in a Yankee clambake.

Perhaps she'll shout louder To see you in chowder.

Poor clam, for your sake I've a dreadful heart-ache.

_Charlotte_. Capital. We wouldn't miss that for anything. Who else is ready?

_Ida_. I have a little poem about a sh.e.l.l. [_Reads._]

What is the song you are singing forever, Sad as the sound of a knell, Deep as the tone of a bell, Oh! sorrowful, murmuring sh.e.l.l, Singing and singing forever?

_Grace_. Mine is about sweet charity. [_Reads._]

Of all things touched with heavenly clarity, There's nothing can compare with sweet, sweet charity!

_Charlotte_. Girls, we ought to have some singing. Do you know that old tune, "Home Again"? Why not sing that? It will please the older ones, and seem a compliment to them. It might do for the last thing on the programme.

_Ida_. That's beautiful.

_Madge_. Sing the tune, Charlotte, and let me catch the rhythm.

[Charlotte _and the others sing_.]

Home again, home again, From a foreign sh.o.r.e; And, oh! it fills my soul with joy To see my friends once more.

[_Enter_ Miss Sommerfield.]

_All_. Oh, Miss Sommerfield! Did you see him? Will he? What did he say?

Did he hypnotize you?

_Miss Sommerfield_. One at a time, young ladies. Let me tell my story, please. I found this wonderful man just where I had left him. I said, "Professor." He started, kicked over a chair, threw away his cigarette, stared at me, and said, "Pardon, mees, I was so rude." "Not at all, Professor," I said; "I am sorry to interrupt your reading." "I am most happy to be interrupted by a so charmant a young lady," he said, gallantly.

_Grace_. That was nice in him.

_Miss Sommerfield_. So then I told him about you and your request, and implored him to play for you. He listened, stroked his mustache, and toyed with his big diamond ring. "It is for the poor sick little children." "Ah!" he said, "America is von grand country for poor leetle children. They are efer doing something. Very well; why should I not play for these young ladies, and the poor sick little children?" "Then you will?" I said. "With pleasure," he said. "I do not play to eferybody. See? I do not become common. But this is different." "Oh, Professor," I said, "how can I thank you enough? Dare I ask what you will select?" And he said, "A thing from Chopin and one of my own compositions."

_Miss Sommerfield_. But hear the rest, and see, you naughty girls, what a position you have got me into. He said. "Do you not perform the piano, mademoiselle?" "A little, a very little," I said. "We shall then give a four-hand piece? Yes? Charmant! I have a nice thing, superb. We shall close the parlor doors, and practise together."

_Madge_ (_hugging her_). The dear. See her blush. It will be simply an elegant affair.

_Miss Sommerfield_. But I am afraid to play with such a big musician. My heart will be in my mouth.

_Charlotte_. On no account, my dear. The practice will do you good. And the honor will be overwhelming.

_Grace_. Indeed, you are a beautiful player, and think how your name coupled with that of Skewsky will look. Everybody will turn green with envy.

_Miss Sommerfield_. If I don't spoil everything.

_Ida_. Girls, I see Uncle Jake. He's an old sailor who is hired to keep the grounds in order. He spins the most delicious yarns. I'm going after him, and let's see if we can set him a-going. [_Exit._]