“No you won’t,” replied Basil; “or if you do, you’ll bob up serenely.”
Basil was tinkering at Persis’s wheel. He was always ready to do some kind little act for Persis, and they discussed moral and psychological subjects with great gravity while Basil was deftly using his tools and Persis was looking on appreciatively.
A few days after this conversation Persis entered her snuggery and saw hanging over the door the motto, “Silence is golden.” It was prettily framed, and the lettering was done in a most artistic manner. “That’s Basil’s work, I know,” thought the girl. “It’s just like him to do that. Now, Porter would have given me a copy of ‘Chatterbox’—that’s just the difference between them. No one but Basil and I will ever know just what it means; the rest will think it is intended as a hint to keep quiet while I am studying my lessons. It was awfully good of him to try to help me in such a nice way,” she thought, gratefully.
The fateful day arrived when Lisa would learn how she stood, and to her intense chagrin, as well as that of her sisters, it was announced that Margaret stood first. Miss Adams explained it by saying that Lisa’s theme displayed less originality than Margaret’s and her examination papers were more superficial.
For once Lisa was humbled. She was so used to receiving praise for her brilliancy, so accustomed to having high marks for her glib recitations, that she could hardly reconcile herself to accepting the verdict, although inwardly she could but acknowledge it to be just. In spite of the disappointment, which gave her a feeling of tightness about the throat, her eyes shone like two stars and there was a red spot on each cheek as with head held high she hastened to be the first to offer Margaret her congratulations. One or two of Margaret’s special friends declared that Lisa’s graceful acknowledgment was done for effect, but that it was well done. Nevertheless, there was real bravery in Lisa’s act, and to herself and Miss Adams it represented a recognition of the justice of the decision. Especially did it seem so to Miss Adams, who saw tears in the dark eyes when she praised Lisa for having done so well as to win second honors.
Persis had never in her life loved Lisa more dearly than she did that day. She passionately declared that it was injustice, favoritism, or trickery, but Lisa stopped her with a gentle gesture. “It’s all right, Persis. Thank you for wanting to battle for me, but I can see where Margaret’s theme is far ahead of mine, and no doubt her examination papers are the same.” Then she stooped and kissed the disappointed little sister, making the girl feel a new admiration for Lisa in this tender mood.
“Anyhow there will not be one of the graduates—not one—so beautiful as you,” declared Persis, emphatically. And Lisa smiled, feeling quite sure that she could wear beauty’s palm if the other were denied her.
It was all this which decided the girl not to go to college. “I am too ambitious to go,” she declared to her parents. “I would want to be first, and I know I could not be. I have suddenly become aware of my limitations in an intellectual direction, and I know I could be a success in the social world.” And she drew herself up, with a glance of assurance toward her mirror.
“Do you think a purely social life would make you happy?” asked her father, rather disappointedly. He had been very proud of this handsome daughter, and had almost expected great things of her. “Mere excitement is not pleasure, nor does selfish amusement bring happiness. Think it over daughter,” he advised; “you need not decide just yet.”
“I am sure you have done well,” interposed Mrs. Holmes. “Don’t let this little disappointment persuade you to give up college. It certainly is no small thing to stand second in a class of ten girls.”