Young Lucretia | Page 4

that no one thought
about it. She laid the parcels on a settee with some others, and stole out
and flew home.
The festivities at the school-house began at seven o'clock. There were
to be some exercises, some recitations and singing, then the distribution
of the presents. Directly after tea young Lucretia went up to her own
little chamber to get ready. She came down in a surprisingly short time
all dressed.
"Are you all ready?" said Aunt Lucretia.
"Yes, ma'am," replied young Lucretia. She had her hand on the
door-latch.
"I don't believe you are half dressed," said Aunt Maria. "Did you get
your bow on straight?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"I think she'd better take her things off, an' let us be sure," said Aunt
Lucretia. "I'm not goin' to have her down there with her clothes on any
which way, an' everybody making remarks. Take your sacque off,
Lucretia."
"Oh, I got the bow on straight; it's real straight, it is, honest," pleaded
young Lucretia, piteously. She clutched the plaid shawl tightly together,
but it was of no use--off the things had to come. And young Lucretia
had put on the prim whaleboned basque of her best dress wrong side
before; she had buttoned it in the back. There she stood, very much
askew and uncomfortable about the shoulder seams and sleeves, and
hung her head before her aunts.
"Lucretia Raymond, what do you mean, putting your dress on this

way?"
"All--the other--girls--wear--theirs buttoned in--the back."
"All the other girls! Well, you're not going to have yours buttoned in
the back, and wear holes through that nice ladies' cloth coat every time
you lean back against a chair. I should think you were crazy. I've a
good mind not to let you go out at all. Stand round here!"
Young Lucretia's basque was sharply unbuttoned, she was jerked out of
it, and it was turned around and fastened as it was meant to be. When
she was finally started, with her aunts' parting admonition echoing after
her, she felt sad and doubtful, but soon her merry disposition asserted
itself.
There was no jollier and more radiant little soul than she all through the
opening exercises. She listened to the speaking and the singing with the
greatest appreciation and delight. She sat up perfectly straight in her
prim and stiff basque; she folded her small red hands before her; her
two tight braids inclined stiffly towards her ears, and her face was all
aglow with smiles.
When the distribution of presents began her name was among the first
called. She arose with alacrity, and went with a gay little prance down
the aisle. She took the parcel that the teacher handed to her; she
commenced her journey back, when she suddenly encountered the eyes
of her aunt Lucretia and her aunt Maria. Then her terror and remorse
began. She had never dreamed of such a thing as her aunts
coming--indeed, they had not themselves. A neighbor had come in and
persuaded them, and they had taken a sudden start against their
resolutions and their principles.
Young Lucretia's name was called again and again. Every time she
slunk more reluctantly and fearfully down to the tree; she knew that her
aunts' eyes were surveying her with more and more amazement.
After the presents were all distributed she sat perfectly still with hers
around her. They lay on her desk, and the last one was in her lap. She

had not taken off a single wrapping. They were done up neatly in
brown paper, and Lucretia's name was written on them.
Lucretia sat there. The other girls were in a hubbub of delight all
around her, comparing their presents, but she sat perfectly still and
watched her aunts coming. They came slowly; they stopped to speak to
the teacher. Aunt Lucretia reached young Lucretia first.
"What have you got there?" she asked. She did not look cross, but a
good deal surprised. Young Lucretia just gazed miserably up at her.
"Why don't you undo them?" asked Aunt Lucretia. Young Lucretia
shook her head helplessly. "Why, what makes you act so, child?" cried
Aunt Lucretia, getting alarmed. Then Aunt Maria came up, and there
was quite a little group around young Lucretia. She began to cry. "What
on earth ails the child?" said Aunt Lucretia. She caught up one of the
parcels and opened it; it was a book bound in red and gold. She held it
close to her eyes; she turned it this way and that; she examined the
fly-leaf. "Why," said she, "it's the old gift-book Aunt Susan gave me
when I was eighteen years old! What in the world!"
Aunt Maria had undone another. "This is the Floral Album," she said,
tremulously; "we always keep it in the north parlor on