The Graduates were delighted.

"That is just like Mother Rosalie," said Marion. "She is willing to trust us, and leaves us to our own resources, so that if we succeed all the credit will be ours. Now we must draw up a plan. Shall we decide upon a plot, and then each work out a portion of it?"

"Oh, dear, I never could think of anything!" declared one.

"I should not know how to manage the dialogue. My characters would be perfect sticks," added a second.

"I can't even write an interesting letter," lamented some one else.

"I respectfully suggest that Marion and Ellen be requested to compose the drama," said the first speaker, with mock ceremony.

"I agree with all my heart!" cried one.

"And I,"--"and I!" chimed in the others.

"It is a unanimous vote," continued their spokesman, turning to the young ladies in question, with a low bow.

"But we shall have all the work," objected Marion.

"No: we will take a double share at the rehearsals, and they will be no small part of the trouble."

"I'll do it if you will, Ellen," began Marion.

"I don't mind trying," agreed Ellen.

Thus the matter was settled.

"Let us first select the little girls to take part in our drama,"

Marion continued.

"There's Annie Conwell," said one.

"And Lucy Caryl," interposed another.

So they went on, till they had chosen ten or twelve little girls.

"As it is to be a May piece, of course we must have a Queen," said Ellen.

"Yes; and let us have Abby Clayton for the Queen," rejoined Marion.

"Abby is pa.s.sably good-looking and rather graceful; besides, she has a clear, strong voice, and plenty of self-confidence. She would not be apt to get fl.u.s.tered. Annie Conwell, now, is a dear child; but perhaps she would be timid, and it would spoil the whole play if the Queen should break down."

After school the little girls were invited into the Graduates'

cla.s.s-room; and, although not a word of the drama had yet been written, the princ.i.p.al parts were then and there a.s.signed. Lucy Caryl was to have the opening address, Annie as many lines as she would undertake, and so on.

Abby was delighted to find that she was chosen for the most prominent _role_. She ran all the way home, and skipped gaily into the house and up to the sitting-room, where Mrs. Clayton was sewing.

"O mother!" she exclaimed, tossing off her hat and throwing her books upon the table, "we are to have a lovely drama at our school, and I'm to be the May-Queen!"

IV

"Just think, Larry!" said Abby to her brother, when he came home after a game of ball, "I'm to be Queen of May!"

"You!" he cried, in a disdainful tone.

"Yes, indeed! And why not? I'm sure I don't see why you should look so surprised. I've been chosen because I can speak and act the best in our division."

"But the Blessed Virgin is Queen of May," objected Larry.

"Oh, of course!" Abby said. "But this will be only make believe, you know. We are going to have a drama, and I'm to be Queen,--that is all."

"I should think you would not even want to play at taking away what belongs to the Blessed Virgin," persisted Larry, doggedly. "She is the Queen of May, and no one ought to pretend to be Queen besides."

"Oh, you silly boy! There is no use in trying to explain anything to you!" cried Abby, losing patience.

For the next half hour she was not so talkative, however, and after a while she stole away; for in spite of her petulance at Larry's words, they had suggested a train of thought which made her want to be by herself. She went up to the oratory and stayed there a long time, amid the twilight shadows. Finally the ringing of the supper bell put an end to her musings. She knelt a few minutes before the statue, and then ran down to the dining-room. She was very quiet all the evening; and, to Mrs. Clayton's surprise, the family heard no more of the May drama.

The next day, at school, Abby waylaid Marion Gaines in one of the corridors.

"I want to speak to you," she began.

"Well, what's the matter, Abby? What makes you so serious this morning?" inquired Marion.

"Nothing--only I've been thinking about the May piece, and I want to tell you that I'd rather not be Queen," faltered the little girl,

"You'd rather not be Queen!" repeated Marion, in astonishment. "Why not? I thought you were delighted to be chosen."

"So I was--yesterday," the little girl hastened to say; for she would not have Marion think she did not appreciate the compliment.

"Then what has caused you to change your mind so suddenly?" Marion went on. "What a fickle child you are, to be sure!"

"It is not that," stammered poor Abby, a good deal confused; "but--but--well, you know the Blessed Virgin is Queen of May, and it seems as if we ought not even to play at having any other Queen."

Marion stared at her incredulously. "And so missy has a scruple about it?" she said, smiling.

"No," returned Abby; "but my brother Larry thought so. And if it looks that way even to a little boy like him, I think I would rather not pretend to be Queen."

"A May piece without a Queen! Why, it would be like the play of Hamlet with Hamlet left out!" declared Marion. "Did you not think that if you declined the part we might give it to some one else?"

Abby colored and was silent. This had, indeed, been the hardest part of the struggle with herself. But there was an element of the heroic in her character. She never did anything by halves; like the little girl so often quoted, "when she was good, she was very, _very_, good."

Marion stood a moment looking at her. "And do you really mean," she said at length, "that you are ready to give up the _role_ you were so delighted with yesterday, and the satisfaction of queening it over your companions if only for an hour?--that you are willing to make the sacrifice to honor the Blessed Virgin?"

With some embarra.s.sment, Abby admitted that this was her motive.

A sudden thought occurred to Marion. "Then, Abby, you shall!" said she. "I'll arrange it; but don't say a word about it to any one. Let the girls think you are to be Queen, if they please. Why, missy," she went on, becoming enthusiastic, "it is really a clever idea for our drama. We shall have a lovely May piece, after all."

Marion hastened away, intent upon working out the new plan which her quick fancy had already sketched in outline. To be sure, she and Ellen had devised a different one, and agreed that each should write certain scenes. Ellen had taken the first opportunity that morning to whisper that she had devoted to the drama all the previous evening and an hour before breakfast. Marion, indeed, had done the same.