Page:Emily Climbs.pdf/323

incident seem faded and unimportant. But the moment I saw my first poem in Garden and Woodland—oh, that was a moment—my walk to New Moon and back the night of the play—the writing of that queer little poem of mine that Mr. Carpenter tore up—my night on the haystack under the September moon—that splendid old woman who spanked the King—the moment in class when I discovered Keats’ lines about the ‘airy voices’—and that other moment in the old John house when Teddy looked into my eyes—oh, it seems to me these are the things I will remember in the halls of Eternity when Evelyn Blake’s sneers and the John house scandal and Aunt Ruth’s nagging and the routine of lessons and examinations have been for ever forgotten. And my promise to Aunt Elizabeth has helped me, as Mr. Carpenter predicted. Not in my diary perhaps—I just let myself go here—one must have a ‘vent’—but in my stories and Jimmy-books.

“We had our class day exercises this afternoon. I wore my new cream organdy with the violets in it and carried a big bouquet of pink peonies. Dean, who is in Montreal on his way home, wired the florist here for a bouquet of roses for me—seventeen roses—one for each year of my life—and it was presented to me when I went up for my diploma. That was dear of Dean.

“Perry was class orator and made a fine speech. And he got the medal for general proficiency. It has been a stiff pull betwen him and Will Morris, but Perry has won out.

“I wrote and read the class day prophecy. It was very amusing and the audience seemed to enjoy it. I had another one in my Jimmy-book at home. It was much more amusing but it wouldn’t have done to read it.

“I wrote my last society letter for Mr. Towers tonight. I’ve always hated that stunt but I wanted the few pennies it brought in and one mustn’t scorn the base degrees by which one ascends young ambition’s ladder.

“I’ve also been packing up. Aunt Ruth came up occasionally and looked at me as I packed but was oddly silent. Finally she said, with a sigh,