"Well, I'm listening and impatient," and grandma's work was dropped in her lap, while her eager face glowed with the one word "more"—for grandma, as she herself expressed it, was very fond of young folks' doings, and, moreover, Maud was her only grandchild.
"It must have been a good fairy that whispered it to me, for no sooner had I finished the essay than the thought came, why not try that scheme for a party? I knew I was promised a party for my sixteenth birthday, and I had heard mamma say, only that very morning, the invitations must soon go out; and then poor mamma sighed, while she said: 'I wish we could think of something new, Maud. Parties are so hackneyed nowadays—the same old things given over and over.' So when the good fairy whispered, I tripped away to mamma, book in hand, as fast as my feet would take me. And then such a scene of excitement as I made! Mamma begged of me to sit down and talk understandingly if I could. For her part, she didn't know what I was trying to get at. And I don't wonder, for she never had heard me mention The Essays of Elia before in all my life. I think poor mamma thought I had gone quite mad. Oh, grandma, such fun!" and Maud laughed heartily over the remembrance of it.
"However, after awhile I calmed down, as grandpa advises me sometimes, and I explained to mamma about Edith Worster's call, and how I happened to hear of this particular thing; and then, because it was the easiest way, I read mamma the essay, adding, 'Now that would make me a brand-new party.' To this idea mamma instantly agreed, and we sent out the invitations so worded that each one knew perfectly he was to wear a costume that would represent a day in the year. And in order that I wouldn't have too many of one kind and too few of the other, each invitation suggested the kind of a day that was meant. In this way I had June Days, Rainy Days, Lenten Days, etc., etc."
"But, my dear grandchild, my brain is all befogged. I can see by what you have said that you had a sort of a masquerade, but your old grandmother knows no more about that essay than you did. You know, I never was much of a scholar, had to work too hard in my young days to find time for an education, and I've been sorry and ashamed over my lack of knowledge many's the time," and at the remembrance the old lady's eyes filled with tears.
This was too much for impulsive Maud, who in a trice had both her arms around her grandmother's neck, sternly saying: "Take those words back or I'll never kiss you again. No education indeed! You had the education which comes from hard work and denial. Where would all our comforts have been to-day—what would papa have known, I'd like to ask, had it not been for you? What sort of an education would I have had? It's a burning shame," and the hot blood reddened Maud's cheeks, "that I have not made better use of my advantages! But 'it's never too late to mend' are the old words, which I shall apply to myself hereafter; and there, now, dearest grandma," and Maud kissed her, saying aloud: "One, two, three; that's our seal to the bargain. And remember, you are not to say another word against yourself, and I am to study harder than ever before. Who knows, I may be a second Edith Worster, if I try."
"If you try, you can do all things, Maud," and then grandma felt around for her handkerchief, and slowly wiped away the moisture which had dimmed her gold-rimmed spectacles.
"Now I'll run away for a second, and get the book to read you the opening of the essay. You will understand it better than my wordy jargon"; and then off Maud flew, napkins, scissors, and all the rest of her sewing paraphernalia dropping at her feet in a hurry to be gone; however, she stopped for a second, and gathering them up, threw them hastily on the table while she rushed on. In a minute she returned, and though all out of breath, at once found the place and commenced:
"'Rejoicings over the New Year's Coming of Age.'
"'The Old Year being dead, the New Year coming of age, which he does by Calendar Law as soon as the breath is out of the old man's body, nothing would serve the young spark but that he must give a dinner upon the occasion, to which all the Days in the year were invited. The Festivals, whom he deputed as his stewards, were mightily taken with the notion. They had been engaged time out of mind, they said, in providing mirth and good cheer for mortals below, and it was time they should have a taste of their own bounty. It was stiffly debated whether the Fasts should be admitted. Some said the appearance of such starved guests, with mortified faces, would pervert the ends of the meeting. But the objection was overruled by Christmas Day, who had a design upon Ash Wednesday (as you shall hear), and a mighty desire to see how the old domine would behave himself in his cups. Only the Vigils were requested to come with their lanterns to light the gentlefolks home at night.