It was certainly a very appropriate present for the girls to have made, and one which Patty appreciated immensely. She had greatly longed to possess an album of her own, but had not liked to ask her mother to buy her one, and the beauty of this handsome gift far surpassed all her dreams.
"You'd done such lovely paintings in our books, that we felt we wanted to put something in yours," said Avis, "though I'm afraid our productions won't be very nice. I can't draw a stroke, and my writing's not at all elegant. I think you'd better not ask me."
In spite of Avis's protestations, Patty naturally asked her and the rest of the class for contributions, and the twenty-one souvenirs which resulted went a long way towards filling her volume. They varied much, both in quality and quantity, from Maggie Woodhall's fine pen-and-ink drawing to May Firth's washy little attempt at a landscape, or the short poetical quotation signed "Beatrice Wynne". Cissie Gardiner, always of a romantic turn of mind, copied "Has sorrow thy young days shaded?" from Moore's Irish Melodies, in her neatest handwriting. Naughty Winnie, who liked to make fun of Cissie, added a version of her own on the opposite page, which greatly destroyed the sentiment of the first, and provoked much laughter in the class. It ran thus:—
"Has sorrow thy young days shaded?
Are schoolbooks and inkpots thy fate?
Too soon is thy fair face faded
By working at Euclid so late.
Doth French thy bright spirit wither,
Or Grammar thy happiness sear?
Then, child of misfortune, come hither,
I'll weep with thee tear for tear."
"It's too bad!" said Cissie. "It spoils my verses; and Moore's my favourite poet just now. I like him far better than Keats; I think his pieces about soldiers and glory are simply splendid."
All the girls exerted themselves so much on Patty's behalf, that her album seemed to bring out an amount of talent lying dormant in the class which nobody had suspected before. Inspired by Winnie's original lines, several of the others set to work to make up verses, and the results were so satisfactory, that the authors felt themselves quite budding poetesses. Ethel Maitland, a quiet girl in the lower division, astonished everybody by the following composition, which was the more unexpected as nobody had ever considered her in the least clever.
I thank the chance that doth afford
Th' occasion fair and happy,
Upon this page to thus record
My gratitude to Patty.
Within my album she hath wrought
A picture of red roses,
All painted with most cunning skill,
The prettiest of posies.
Had I but talent, in return
A masterpiece I'd draw her,
But failing that, I pen these lines
Which now I place before her.
"It's not very good," declared Ethel. "It was so hard to make it scan properly. I know 'happy' and 'Patty' don't really rhyme, but what else could I put? The last line's rather tame, but then again I couldn't find a rhyme for 'draw her'. I thought at first of putting 'And hope they will not bore her', or 'To show how I adore her', but perhaps it's better as it is."
Patty, who had no talent for poetry, was immensely impressed by these lines. She showed them to everybody in the class, and Ethel's work was much admired until it was entirely eclipsed by a contribution from Jean Bannerman. Jean had drawn a funny picture of a kitten with a pile of books under its arm. She had copied it from a magazine, but the verse which she wrote under it was her own composition. She called it: