“I recited that once at Mill Town High School,” she remarked.
“Can’t you give us something to-night?” asked Molly kindly, feeling that in some way the unfortunate Minerva ought to be allowed to join in.
“I don’t know that I ought to give another poem by the same man,” she replied, “except that Miss Oldham gave ‘The Raven’ in French.”
“Don’t tell us you know ‘The Bells’?” demanded Edith Williams, in a trembling whisper.
“Oh, yes. I’ve given it at lots of school entertainments.”
“We had better turn down the lights,” said Margaret. “The room should be in darkness except the side light where Miss Higgins will stand. That will be the spot light.”
This was a fortunate arrangement because, while Minerva recited “The Bells,” with all proper gestures, intonations and echoes, according to Cleveland’s recitation book, the girls silently collapsed. When she had finished, they were reduced to that exhausted state that arrives after a supreme effort not to laugh.
At last the entertainment came to an end. Minerva departed with some of the others, while those who lived close by remained to chat for a few minutes.
“I give up,” exclaimed Margaret Wakefield. “Minerva is beyond teaching. She must remain forever the smartest girl in Mill Town High School.”
“The only pity of it is that it was all wasted on one humorless person. We really furnished her with a most delightful entertainment and she never even guessed it,” declared Nance.