SHE PLAYED, INDEED SHE DID, SHELTERED BY A BIG OPEN ATLAS
But she played, indeed she did, sheltered by a big open atlas. She made paper dolls and paper furniture, and she folded into boxes and rowboats and dustpans and Chinese junks the squares of paper that in after years were sacred to the stern labors of the kindergarten. This bad child made a regular business arrangement with the little girl who sat in front of her. If, whenever Ella touched her right shoulder three times, she would sit up very straight and act as a support for the open atlas, Ella would give her every week one paper doll, three fly boxes, and two Chinese junks.
Of course the teacher could not help seeing part at least of what was being done “on the Potomac,” as in her own mind she called Ella’s desk; but she was really puzzled what to do, and none of her normal school notebooks gave her the least help. Ella played so quietly and recited her lessons so well—even on Fridays—that it was not easy to be severe with her. How could she be always finding fault with a child who was invariably respectful to her and who slipped up to the head of the class so easily, went to the foot with a store of extras numerous enough to provide for all emergencies, and in a day or two stood at the head again, ready to collect more extras? The term would soon be at an end, and she wisely concluded that she would not walk around to the rear of the atlas when she could avoid it.
About this time came the revealing of the great secret. Ella and Ida still sat together. The paper dolls of each visited those of the other. They shared each other’s worsteds and bright-colored papers, and lent each other new patterns in crocheting and working on canvas and perforated paper. One day, as they were walking home together after school, Ida said to Ella,
“We’re best friends, aren’t we?”
“Of course we are,” declared Ella wonderingly. “Why?”
“Because there’s a secret that we mustn’t tell to any one but our best friends. It’s the Tories’ Alphabet.”
“What are ‘Tories’?”
“I don’t know, but this is their alphabet. It’s just a name for it, I guess. A big girl in the First Room showed it to me, and told me never to let any one have it but my best friends. She said that another girl in a class before that gave it to her. It is an alphabet, and we can write notes with it, and no matter who finds one, it can’t be read.”
“Can’t you show it to your mother?”