At this point Judge Rodman gave up the search.
“I deeply regret,” said he, “that I shall be obliged to forego my reading of our national document which, next to the Constitution itself, best embodies our unchanging principles.”
And then he added something which smote the front rows suddenly breathless:—
“However, it occurs to me, since this is preeminently the children’s celebration and since I am given to understand that our public schools now bestow due and proper attention upon the teaching of civil government, that it will be a fitting thing, a moving thing even, to hear these words of our great foundation spoken in childish tones. Miss Messmore, can you, as teacher of the city schools, in the grades where the idea of our celebration so fittingly originated, among the tender young, can you recommend, madam, perhaps, one of your bright pupils to repeat for us these undying utterances whose commitment has now become, as I understand it, a part of our public school curriculum?”
There was an instant’s pause, and then I heard Margaret Amelia Rodman’s name spoken. Miss Messmore had uttered it. Judge Rodman was repeating it, smiling blandly down with a pleased diffidence.
“There can be no one more fitted to do this, Judge Rodman,” Miss Messmore had promptly said, “than your daughter, Margaret Amelia, at whose suggestion this celebration, indeed, has come about.”
Poor Margaret Amelia. In spite of her embroidered gown, her blue ribbons, and her blue stockings, I have seldom seen anyone look so wretched as did she when they made her mount that platform. To give her courage her father met her, and took her hand. And then, in his pride and confidence, something else occurred to him.
“Tell us, Margaret Amelia,” he said with a gesture infinitely paternal, “how came the children to think of demanding of us wise-heads that we give observance to this day which we had already voted to let slip past unattended? What spirit moved the children to this act?”
At first Margaret Amelia merely twisted, and fingered her sash at the side. Margaret Amelia was always called on for visitors’ days, and the like. She could usually command her faculties and give a straightforward answer, not so much because of what she knew as because of her unfailing self-confidence. Of this her father was serenely aware; but, aware also that the situation made unusual demands, he concluded to help her somewhat.
“How came the children,” he encouragingly put it, “to think of making this fine effort to save our National holiday this year?”