"He"s only helping to pull the roof down on his own head," said Miss Kilrain; "it"s only another proof of his inability to adapt himself to Modern Methods."
Next month was December. The High School adjourned for the holidays. But the Platonians were busy. They were preparing for a debate, a debate with the High School boys. Professor Koenig had thought the debate an excellent thing, and offered his library to the Society for use in preparation, saying that a friendly rivalry between the two schools would be an excellent and stimulating thing.
These days Miss Kilrain was holding aloof from the Society and its deteriorating tendencies. She shook her head and looked at the members sorrowfully.
The debate was set for the first Friday in the new year.
One morning in the holidays Uncle Charlie looked up from his paper. "You are going to have a new Princ.i.p.al," said he.
"New Princ.i.p.al--" said Emmy Lou, "and Professor Koenig?"
"Like other cla.s.sics," said Uncle Charlie, "he is being put on the shelf. They have asked him to resign."
"And who is the new one?" asked Emmy Lou.
"The gentleman named as likely is Professor Bryan."
"Oh," said Emmy Lou, "no."
"I am of the opinion, therefore," said Uncle Charlie, "that the "Platonian"s Mercurial Gazette" will make its appearance yet."
"If it is Professor Bryan," said Emmy Lou, "there"s no need of my working any more on the Debate."
"Why not?" said Uncle Charlie.
"If it"s Mr. Bryan, he"ll never let them come, he thinks they are awful things--boys."
Miss MacLauren was right about it; the debate did not take place.
Platonian affairs seemed suddenly tame. Would a strictly feminine Olympus pall?
She came into Aunt Cordelia"s room one afternoon. "There"s to be a dancing club on Friday evenings," she explained, "and I"m invited."
Which was doubly true, for both William and Chester had asked her. She was used to having William say he"d come round and go along; she had had a boy join her and walk home--but this----
"You can"t do it all," said Aunt Cordelia positively. "That Society keeps you till dark."
[Ill.u.s.tration: "She stood, fingering the window curtain, irresolute."]
Emmy Lou knew when Aunt Cordelia"s tones were final. She had feared this. She stood--fingering the window-curtain--irresolute. In her heart she felt her literary qualifications were not being appreciated in Platonian circles anyway. A dancing club--it sounded alluring. The window was near the bureau with its mirror--she stole a look. She was--yes--she knew now she was pretty.
Late that afternoon Miss MacLauren dropped a note in the post. It was a note tendering her resignation to the Platonian Society.
THE END