Pinkey Perkins + "Red Feather" = a humorous tale of revenge that doesn't work out. I wouldn't have been surprised to see this story on Leave It to Beaver fifty years later.With the approach of "Arbor Day," the teachers of the Enterprise public schools began to make their plans to observe the occasion with ceremonies which should be both enjoyable and appropriate. It was the general desire to create a real and lasting interest in trees and plants among the children, and to this end certain outdoor programs were to be carried out.
This day was one to which all school-children looked forward with a. certain amount of pleasure, for the exercises always consumed a part of the study and recitation hours, and sometimes school was dismissed early in honor of the day. This latter possibility was the chief attraction which the day offered to "Pinkey" Perkins, for his boyish mind never could see the real reason why it should take twenty-five or thirty children to plant one or two little trees, and why they always had to be planted on a certain day.
"Say, Bunny," said Pinkey to Bunny Morris one morning a few days before Arbor Day, "what do you say to going to the country Thursday afternoon? I heard that 'Red Feather' is going to give us a half-holiday as soon as we get the tree planted."
"That 'll be great!" replied Bunny, enthusiastically. "It 'll be worth learning a verse to say at the exercises, and dressing up in your good clothes, if we can get off for the rest o' the afternoon. But how do you know she 's going to do it?"
"Joe Cooper said so, and I guess it came pretty straight. His sister, who teaches in the primary, told him, most likely. He wouldn't say for certain who told him. There 's no use asking Red Feather."
The proof which Pinkey had produced satisfied Bunny's doubts, and forthwith the pair began laying their plans for their outing. "Going to the country" meant a visit to the farm of one of Pinkey's uncles, who lived near Enterprise, and included a whole assortment of pleasures gathered together into one delightful excursion. It meant a swim in the pond when the weather was warm enough, a potato and apple roast in an outdoor oven dug in the hillside, and somersaults and other daring acrobatic feats in the large hay-mow.
When the program for Arbor Day had been arranged, each of Red Feather's pupils was given a sentiment or a few appropriate lines of poetry to commit to memory, it being her plan to have all her scholars take part in the actual planting of the tree, and the verse was to be repeated as each pupil tossed his or her shovelful of earth around the roots of the tree. The scholars entered into the spirit of the celebration with more interest than was customary on such occasions, for the rumor of a prospective half-holiday had spread through the school and had become a certainty in the minds of all.
Arbor Day came at last, and was heralded with delight on all sides. A more perfect spring day could not have been desired, the soft, balmy air provoking the outdoor spirit in all to arise and demand release from the oppression of the school-room. The morning session went on as usual.
Noontime finally came, and the children hurried homeward to prepare themselves for the afternoon's exercises. It was to be no ordinary occasion. All were to come in their best Sunday attire, and Red Feather had announced that she desired each of her pupils to wear a small twig of some sort in honor of the day.
It was a very different-appearing crowd that filed into the school-room when the last bell rang that afternoon. Several were tardy, their mothers having bestowed many unusual touches to the noonday toilet of their sons and daughters. Boys, wearing stiff, uncomfortable collars about their seldom-fettered necks, and with shoes which still retained their original store polish and telltale squeak, tiptoed to their seats, their faces shining from the effects of recent scrubbing. Girls, with stiffly starched skirts hovering over new stockings and tightly buttoned shoes, and with their hair so tightly drawn back by their crescent-shaped combs that to close their eyes seemed almost an impossibility, marched proudly to their desks, each evidently remembering her mother's final assertion that she would be the prettiest girl there.
After singing, "Under the Greenwood Tree," as being appropriate to the day they were celebrating, and listening to an elocutionary recitation of "Woodman, Spare that Tree" by a city niece of Red Feather's who was visiting in Enterprise, the pupils were marched from the building to a certain spot in the yard, where preparations had already been made for the planting of the tree. Pinkey and Bunny were sorely disappointed when Red Feather instructed them all to leave their hats on the hooks in the hall, for this meant the loss of at least two minutes, when the exercises should be over, before they could be off. The pupils of the other rooms were congregated here and there in gaily dressed groups, all bent on similar observances of the day.
"I 've got old Polly all bridled now," whispered Pinkey to Bunny as the procession wended its way through the yard; "and all we 'll have to do as soon as it 's over is to get our caps, hurry home and change our clothes, and scoot for the country. I 'll come by for you, and you must be all ready."
When all had reached the appointed spot, Red Feather arranged the boys and girls in a circle around the hole in which the tree was to be planted. The tree lay on the ground on one side, and a brand-new shovel, on the handle of which were a few bows of red ribbon, lay on the other. All were anxious for things to begin, and when Red Feather did not seem to be in as much of a hurry as did her pupils, they grew impatient at the delay.
"Now, children," admonished Red Feather, severely, as two or three of the boys began to nudge each other and to give evidences of suppressed mirth, "this is no time for play. We are here to carry out a noble purpose,—one greatly to be admired by all,—and I wish you to conduct yourselves in a manner befitting the occasion."
With that, she detailed Pinkey and Eddie Lewis, whom Pinkey had reason heartily to dislike, to place the tree in position and to support it until enough earth had been thrown in to hold it upright. A sudden movement of the tree, when Red Feather was not looking, caused Eddie to lose his balance and fall into the hole, thus soiling his new shoes and stockings and affording corresponding amusement to the rest of the pupils, among whom Eddie was known as "teacher's pet."
When all was ready the pupils stepped forward, one at a time, and tossed in a shovelful of earth, each pausing long enough to repeat the assigned verse or sentiment. When Pinkey's turn came, he failed to experience any thoughts which could be called appropriate to the fulfilment of a noble purpose. He took the shovel, filled it with earth, cleared his throat, and began the recitation of the lines he had committed to memory:
"Here thou hast found a resting-place,When he had finished he stepped back into the circle, a load lifted from his mind in the realization that his part was over. More than anything else, Pinkey disliked being required to "speak a piece" of any kind, of any length, and on any subject.
Where, more and more sublime,
Thy towering height may glorify
The corridors of Time."
Bunny got off easier than did Pinkey. With his short, jerky style of delivery, he declared that "Great oaks from little acorns grow," hastily tossed a small shovelful of earth against the roots of the tree, and retired from the scene of action.
One after another, the other pupils stepped up and did their parts, until, when "Putty" Black came forward and announced, "Just as the twig is bent, the tree 's inclined," the tree was firmly planted, the earth was well packed about its roots, and the pupils only awaited the word which would set them free.
"That finishes the program, children," said Red Feather; "and now you may all return to the school-house. You will have fifteen minutes for study before I call the 'A' class in grammar."
For a moment the pupils were struck dumb and motionless with amazement. "Return to the school-house!" "'A ' class in grammar!" Could it be that they had understood Red Feather aright? Surely no one could utter such heartless words as these and still live to enforce them! Something dreadful must happen to such a monster!
"Pinkerton, what are you muttering about?" demanded Red Feather, severely, as audible expressions of wrath escaped from Pinkey's lips.
"I thought we were going to have a half-holiday as soon as the old—" Pinkey checked himself— "as soon as the tree was planted." Already the pupils of one of the other rooms were leaving the yard, shouting noisily in anticipation of the afternoon of freedom before them. Pinkey boiled with rage as he saw one of the liberated boys toss a base-ball bat to another, and watched them place their hands alternately one over the other, contesting for first choice in the prospective game of "scrub." The fact that his dreams for the afternoon had been so ruthlessly shattered made his envy of the pleasure of others seem all the more keen.
"Arbor Day is not a holiday," announced Red Feather with emphasis. "It is a day to be observed in a dignified, serious manner. Pinkerton, you may take the lead in marching back to the schoolhouse."
"I don't see why we can't—"
"Not another word," interrupted Red Feather. "Take your place in front, as I bade you. Your conduct is highly improper, and you shall be punished for it."
Pinkey reluctamly placed himself at the head of the column, and at the word of command shuffled sullenly along the walk leading to the schoolhouse.
"Pick up your feet, Pinkerton, and walk properly," shouted Red Feather, as she noticed these unmistakable signs of Pinkey's disapproval.
Although Pinkey knew that he would suffer for his open display of resentment, yet his feelings were so rebellious, when he thought of the afternoon's outing of which he and Bunny had been "robbed," that he was goaded to further acts of indiscretion. When Red Feather ordered him to stop dragging his feet, he tried walking very slowly and deliberately stepping as high as possible. Going to this extreme only incensed Red Feather all the more, and she pounced upon him with both hands, and subjected him to a series of the most wholesome, teeth-chattering shakes that he had experienced for many a day.
All this provoked not a little mirth in the ranks behind Pinkey, and his feelings were somewhat relieved when he heard unmistakable sounds from the rear which told him that he was not the only one in disfavor. Bunny and two or three others were recipients of shakings similar to the one Pinkey had received, for being so indiscreet as to laugh at him.
Red Feather posted herself at the hall door, and with severity marshaled her flock into the school-room, administering reproving and effective touches here and there, as she detected evidences of undue hilarity or sullenness.
The afternoon session was resumed at once, but study was of the most unsatisfactory character and the recitations were correspondingly poor.
Pinkey sat at his desk, morose and gloomy. The day to which he had looked forward with such bright anticipations was a failure. He wished he could quit school and never see a book or a slate again. Why did Red Feather take especial delight in picking him out as the one to use as an example for all the rest? It seemed that she had decreed that there should be no holiday just because he and Bunny had planned an afternoon's enjoyment on this occasion. Had he known that the school board had authorized a half-holiday for the lower grades only, and that Red Feather had nothing to say about it, his indignation probably would not have been so violent nor so lasting. As it was, he merely knew that those rooms below Red Feather's had been excused, and he could not see why hers was not.
All the afternoon, and on the way home, Pinkey kept revolving in his mind different schemes by which he might show Red Feather that her pupils felt that she had done them a great injustice.
"What 're you goin' to do, Pinkey? " inquired Bunny, as the pair wandered disconsolately homeward after school, discussing their blighted afternoon.
"I dunno, exactly," observed Pinkey; but the more they talked about it, the more abused they both felt and the firmer became their resolve to do something about it.
They separated, however, before anything definite was decided upon, and it was not until after supper that evening that a plan occurred to Pinkey which suited him. Once his mind was made up, he lost no time in getting operations under way.
Leaving the house by the front door, he stole silently around to the woodshed, quietly procured the wheelbarrow and the shovel, and departed by way of the back gate for Bunny's house.
Five minutes later Bunny's alert ears caught the sound of Pinkey's low, signal whistle and he knew at once that his presence was desired and that there was something up which needed his* assistance. He obeyed the summons as soon as he reasonably could, for any suggestion that there was any connection between the whistle, in case anyone else had heard it, and his departure might bring forth questions which he could not answer.
When he came out he could not locate Pinkey anywhere, then after another whistle from Pinkey, Bunny was able to distinguish a form which he recognized as that of his chum, and on coming closer he was surprised to see also the wheelbarrow and shovel which Pinkey had brought along with him.
"What 's up, Pinkey?" inquired Bunny, in surprise. "What are you goin' to do with the wheelbarrow this time o' night?"
"Goin' to celebrate Arbor Day again," answered Pinkey, without going into details; "come on."
"Goin' to what?" questioned the bewildered Bunny. "I got enough Arbor Day today to last me for a while, didn't you?"
"Yes, but it did n't suit me. I 'm goin' to dig up that tree we planted to-day and take it down to Red Feather's yard and plant it again. She took our holiday away from us so let 's give her the old tree too."
"Whew, Pinkey, that 's what!" exclaimed Bunny, enthusiastically, "wo n't she be mad when she has to pay to have it brought back?"
"We "ll just show her that if we can't have what 's ours, we do n't want her buying trees for us, and puttin' ribbons on the shovel we plant 'em with."
" Yes, an' makin' us dress up and say a lot o' speeches too." That was the part of the program which had appealed to Bunny less than all the rest.
In high glee, though with as little noise as possible, the pair started for the schoolhouse yard. They took a roundabout way in order to avoid possible detection and approached the enclosure carefully. They found it impossible to take the wheelbarrow through the turnstile and left it outside the fence, at a point as near as possible to the tree. There being only a little-used path on that side of the yard, they were in no danger of being seen.
Silently and hurriedly they worked, first one and then the other, throwing out the earth which was still quite loose, and soon they had reached the roots of the tree. It was now but a small task to lift it from the hole and carry it to the fence.
"Pass 'er over, Bunny," said Pinkey, after he had climbed the fence. "We got to hurry now or it 'll be late before we get through."
With the tree safely loaded on the wheelbarrow, the boys set out for Red Feather's house, several blocks distant. They took the middle of the road for it, that being considered by Pinkey as safer than the sidewalk.
At length they reached the street parallel to that on which Red Feather's house faced. Here they lifted the tree and the shovel from the wheelbarrow and dropped them over the fence into the vacant lot which adjoined Red Feather's back yard. After hiding the wheelbarrow by turning it upside down in the ditch at the side of the road, they climbed the fence, picked up their tree and shovel again and cautiously approached the house. To their delight, the front part of the house was dark and with proper care they could complete their task without detection.
Selecting a conspicuous spot in the front yard, not far from the gate, Pinkey set to work digging a hole in which to plant the tree. He was relieved by Bunny when he grew tired and, after a few changes, they had the hole ready to receive the tree.
"Never mind sayin' your speech, Bunny," said Pinkey gleefully, when they had set the tree in position, "just you shovel the dirt in as fast as you can while I tramp it down," at the same time holding on to the tree and dancing around it, packing down the loose earth as Bunny threw it in.
"I ought to have a few ribbons on this shovel," observed Bunny, straightening up to rest his back a moment," I always like to have ribbons on a shovel when I plant trees."
"This is no holiday," repeated Pinkey, after the manner of Red Feather. "This is a serious occasion. Get to work."
Thus joking and in high spirits over their escapade, Pinkey and Bunny completed their task, packed the sod neatly around the trunk of the tree, and stood for a few minutes gazing on their handiwork with unconcealed admiration.
"Looks pretty fine, does n't it," said Bunny, "it seems perfectly at home."
"I wonder if this 'resting-place' will last as long as the other one did, said Pinkey, remembering his verse, "That 'corridor of time' at the schoolhouse yard was a pretty short one, seems to me." At this bright remark they both enjoyed a good laugh.
With one last look at their clever piece of work, and a few contented chuckles, Pinkey and Bunny departed by the route they had come. They loaded the shovel in the wheelbarrow once more and started home well pleased at the outcome of their venture, and feeling that they had well repaid Red Feather for her heartlessness of the afternoon.
"And won't the rest o' the fellers wish they 'd had a hand in it?" said Pinkey, as they separated, "Tell you what, Bunny, it takes us to keep even with Red Feather!"
Pinkey replaced the wheelbarrow and the shovel in the woodshed and entered the house with an air of unconcern that aroused no suspicion that he had been doing anything unusual. It was quite the custom for the boys of Enterprise to congregate in the evening and join in spirited games of "Tally-ho," so his absence caused no comment and brought forth no embarrasing questions.
Next morning, Pinkey and Bunny met on the courthouse corner and proceeded schoolward together. They were still in high spirits over their night's work, and as they walked along they confidentially told several of their companions who joined them, what they had done. As they entered the schoolhouse yard, the open hole, around which several pupils were already gathered, offered conclusive proof of the truth of their assertions, had proof been necessary.
"Here 's Pinkey Perkins!" shouted one. "He knows who did it, don't you, Pinkey?"
"What makes you think so?" replied Pinkey, visibly flattered. "If I did know I would n't tell." There was a knowing look on his face, however, which admitted' beyond question that he was the person responsible for the disappearance of the tree.
"Where 'd you take it, Pinkey?" demanded Joe Cooper.
"Who said I took it anywhere?" retorted Pinkey.
"I believe I saw it in Red Feather's yard as I came by," spoke up one in whom Pinkey had confided, "maybe she took it home for safe keepin'."
Just then some one noticed Red Feather coming in the gate and the crowd dispersed to see what she would do. Her way led directly past the spot where the day before they had planted the ill-fated tree with so much ceremony. To the disgust of all, she did not even look toward the place. With her eyes straight to the front, she pursued her unerring way to the schoolhouse and disappeared within.
A few minutes later, the last bell pealed forth its summons, the boys put away their marbles and balls and bats, and the girls folded up their skipping ropes, and all filed in and went obediently to their seats. As he sat down, Pinkey scrutinized Red Feather's face to see if he could foretell what the future had in store for him, but ehere were no telltale signs there and he was unable to reach any definite conclusions.
When the opening exercises were over, Red Feather arose from her desk and stood at the edge of her platform. For a full minute she stood silently looking over the room. Rinkey began to feel uncomfortable, and try as he would to sit still and appear unconcerned, he could not. He fidgeted in spite of himself. He would have given a good eal to steal a glance at Bunny, to see how he was taking it, but he dared not. He felt his face growing redder and redder in spite of himself and he fastened his gaze on the collar of the boy in front of him.
Presently, Red Feather broke the heavy silence. "Children," said she, with no trace of anger in her voice, "some of you" -and she looked squarely at Pinkey- "have done me a kindness which I very much appreciate and I wish to thank the ones who are responsible. The tree which we planted yesterday was not the kind the school board desires planted in the schoolhouse yard. I was disppointed in not getting the tree I ordered, so was forced to get the one I did for the exercises. I had arranged to have it take up to-day and planted in my yard, replacing it by the one I had originally ordered.
"I want to thank those of you who so kindly saved me the trouble of having the tree transferred, and who went ot all the trouble of doing it for me. I am fully aware of the amount of labor it involved and of the kind thoughts which prompted such a generous act."
By the time Red Feather had finished, Pinkey's face had turned several shades redder than it was at first and had become a brilliant crimson. His eyes shifted helplessly from one corner of his desk to the other and he seemed first hot and then cold. Suppressed titters here and there told him that his companions were having a good laugh at his and Bunny's expense. He was enraged at himself, and at himself alone, for there was certainly no one else to blame that he had failed in turning the tables on Red Feather and had turned them on himself instead. Also, he knew that unless they took a firm stand, he and Bunny were in for it. Their companions would not fail to improve such an excellent opportunity to tease them.
Pinkey managed to brace up a little and to shake off his depression to a certain extent, until by recess time he had almost resumed his usual assurance.
"Where are you goin' to plant your tree now," asked Joe Cooper, as they were leaving the room to enjoy their morning playtime.
"I 'm goin' to leave it right where it is. If I 'd take it to the north pole, Red Feather 'd say she was just goin' to send it up there. Now the next feller that says 'tree' to me will wish had n't," and Pinkey's manner indicated that the less said about Arbor Day the better for all concerned.
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