Marjorie at Seacote

So Cousin Ethel came up to Marjorie, and acted like a very shy and bashful child. She put her finger in her mouth, and dropped her eyes and wriggled about, and picked at her skirt, until everybody was in peals of laughter.

"Be quiet, children," said Midget, trying to control her own face. "Now, everybody sit still while Ethel Bryant recites."

Cousin Ethel made a very elaborate dancing-school bow, and then, swaying back and forth in school-child fashion, she recited in a monotonous singsong, these lines:

"MUD PIES

"The grown-ups are the queerest folks; they never seem to know
That mud pies always have to be made just exactly so.
You have to have a nice back yard, a sunny pleasant day,
And then you ask some boys and girls to come around and play.
You mix some mud up in a pail, and stir it with a stick;
It mustn't be a bit too thin—and not a bit too thick.
And then you make it into pies, and pat it with your hand,
And bake 'em on a nice flat board, and my! but they are grand!"

Mrs. Bryant declaimed, with suitable gestures, and finally sat down on the floor and made imaginary mud pies, in such a dear, childish way that her audience was delighted, and gave her really earnest encores.

"Do you know another piece, Ethel?" asked Marjorie.

"Yes, ma'am," and Mrs. Bryant resumed her shy voice and manner.

"Then you may recite it, as your little schoolmates seem anxious to have you do so."

So again, Mrs. Bryant diffidently made her bow, and recited, with real dramatic effect:

"AN UNVISITED LOCALITY

"I wisht I was as big as men,
To see the Town of After Ten;
I've heard it is so bright and gay,
It's almost like another day.
But to my bed I'm packed off straight
When that old clock strikes half-past eight!
It's awful hard to be a boy
And never know the sort of joy
That grown-up people must have when
They're in the Town of After Ten.
I'm sure I don't know what they do,
For shops are closed, and churches too.
Perhaps with burglars they go 'round,
And do not dare to make a sound!
Well, soon I'll be a man, and then
I'll see the Town of After Ten!"

"Oh, Cousin Ethel, you're lovely!" cried Marjorie, forgetting her rôle for the moment. But King took it up.

"Yes, little Ethel," he said, "you recite very nicely, for such a young child. Now, go to your seat, and Helen Maynard may recite next."

"Mine is a Natural History Poem," said Mrs. Maynard, coming up to the teacher's desk. "It is founded on fact, and it is highly instructive."

"That's nice," said King. "Go ahead with it."

So Mrs. Maynard made her bow and though not bashful, like Mrs. Bryant, she was very funny, for she pretended to forget her lines, and stammered and hesitated, and finally burst into pretended tears. But, urged on and encouraged by the teachers, she finally concluded this gem of poesy:

"THE WHISTLING WHALE

"A whistling whale once built his nest
On the very tiptop of a mountain's crest.
He wore a tunic and a blue cocked hat,
And for fear of mice he kept a cat.
The whistling whale had a good-sized mouth,
It measured three feet from north to south;
But when he whistled he puckered it up
Till it was as small as a coffee-cup.
The people came from far and near
This wonderful whistling whale to hear;
And in a most obliging way
He stood on his tail and whistled all day."

"That's a truly noble poem," commented King, as she finished. "Take your seat, Helen; you have done splendidly, my little girl!"

"Now, Teddy Maynard, it's your turn," said Marjorie.

"After Jacky," declared Mr. Maynard, and nothing would induce him to precede his friend.

"Mine is about a visit I paid to the Zoo," said Mr. Bryant, looking modest. "I wrote it myself for a composition, but it turned out to be poetry. I never can tell how my compositions are going to turn out."

"Recite it," said Marjorie, "and we'll see if we like it."

"It's about wild animals," went on Cousin Jack, "and it tells of their habits."

"That's very nice," said King, condescendingly; "go ahead, my boy."

So Cousin Jack recited this poem:

"THE WAYS OF THE WILD

"There's nothing quite so nice to do
As pay a visit to the zoo,
And see beasts that, at different times,
Were brought from strange and distant climes.
I love to watch the tapirs tape;
I stand intent, with mouth agape.
Then I observe the vipers vipe;
They're a most interesting type.
I love to see the beavers beave;
Indeed, you scarcely would believe
That they can beave so cleverly,