"It's perfectly awful, but it's the first poem I ever wrote in my life, and I want to say that I sha'n't be in the least offended if everybody laughs." Then, unfolding a small sheet of paper, she began to read very fast.
"Ria And The Bear.
"The sky was of the darkest hue,
The grass beneath was wet with dew,
And through the trees the wind did howl,
Causing the hungry bears to growl.
"All were protected from the storm,
All but one wee, shivering form,
She stood beneath an old elm tree,
The boughs of which from leaves were free.
"A big bear darted through the wood,
His instinct told him where she stood.
Soon the monster came close to Ria,
But the child showed no sign of fear.
"As the big bear drew very close,
She gave a pat to his cold nose,
At this touch the bear did cease to growl,
And for response a joyful howl.
"Then these two friends lay down together,
Quite heedless of the raging weather,
Upon the hard and frozen ground,
The two friends slept, both very sound.
"But one of the two never awoke;
Long, long after the wind storm broke,
She was discovered lying there,
Where she had died beside the bear."
"Bravo! Winifred, that's fine!" shouted Jack Randall, and then followed a shout of laughter, in which everybody joined, Winifred herself as heartily as any of the others.
"I told you it was awful," she said between gasps, "but Lulu said no one could be a member who didn't write a poem, so I had to do my best."
"I should die of mortification if I were laughed at like that," whispered Elsie to Carol, who sat next to her. To which her friend replied sympathetically:
"Of course you would, but then everybody isn't a genius like you."
"The next poem," announced Lulu, when order had been restored, "is by Miss Marjorie Graham of Arizona. Get up, Marjorie."
Marjorie's heart was beating rather fast as she rose, but there was a merry twinkle in her eye, and if her voice shook a little when she began to read, it was more from suppressed laughter than from fear.
"The Boring Life of New York.