First Mikey, with huge white cambric stork wings, hopped upon the stage
of sward and deposited the brown-wrapped Suckling in a hollow log in the
center, and departed flapping. After that the ceremonial developed
itself into the education that was to flow down upon her defenseless
head at the waving of the wand of Minerva, who was Charlotte with a
tinsel star of wisdom resting rampantly upon her brow. And it came down
upon the Suckling with a vengeance. A whole troop of young letters of
the alphabet, led by small Susan with the large red A upon her fat back,
danced around the Suckling's helplessness and finally backed up to the
audience to spell the word "Reading." Next in hopped a flock of numerals
led by the indefatigable Mikey, which backed up and presented themselves
from one to ten to thus imply the hated science of "Arithmetic."
The Suckling slept on amid delighted gurgles from her mother and
Harriet. She slept through a presentation of the script letters of
"Writing" and was still unconscious when "Geography" in crepe paper,
with flags of all nations, grouped around her. She only awoke when, all
by himself, sturdily, with his head in the air and fairly radiant with
beauty and courage, the Stray marched upon the scene, rolled into a
white roll of paper and girt about with a broad red ribbon sealed upon
his back to represent "Diploma." Silently and intent upon his duty he
walked straight to the Suckling in her log crib, bent over her, crooned
to her reassuringly a second, lifted her in his white arms and backed
off behind a tall laurel bush with her nodding in delight over his
shoulder. The boy was so beautiful and the little scene so tender that
the entire audience caught its breath at its--audacity. A gauntlet had
been thrown into the faces of both the Town and Settlement and they both
understood.
They sat perfectly still with astonishment while the performers were
being massed in the schoolhouse by the young teacher for their final
march out to the steps for the hymn singing with the beloved "Minister,"
which was to conclude the ceremonials.
And while the audience sat awaiting the further presentations to be
made them by their offspring, Mr. Goodloe came out the door and halfway
down the steps. Then suddenly he stopped and looked out over the valley
with such an expression on his face that with one accord his audience
rose and looked with him. And as it looked a groan came that was a
chorus melted into one voice of terror, while all of them stood helpless
with amazement. While we had all been sitting in the curious sweltering
heat, watching with pride a future for our children being foretold for
them by themselves, death had reared itself behind Old Harpeth, coiled
itself into a huge black spiral of thunder and lightning and was driving
down the valley upon Goodloets with a velocity that defied the eyes to
follow. For a long second every man and woman stood rooted to his
foothold on the earth and watched the tornado strike the edge of the
Settlement, smash down the saddlery as if it were a house of cards, and
churn the little tannery into the river. Then as it grasped the roof of
the Last Chance and began twisting it with a roar that grew in volume
every instant, Gregory Goodloe suddenly raised his hand and spoke in a
perfectly calm voice that rang out above the groan of the tortured
shanties of the Settlement which were crashing down against each other.