THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-ELEVEN 21

 

 

 

Ruth was on the point of asking the nominees to please withdraw, when she realised the
difficulty involved. Since then, however, I have been told of a class, one of whose members
had the honour of being nominated as class animal. We, however, simply proceeded to
speak for our nominees. Scottie made a fiery and eloquent speech in favour of the frog.
I think most of us know where her ardour for a frog came from. Thus inspired, she spoke
at length of his beauty, grace, and decorative quality. Members of the biology class, how-
ever, thought only of the limp, bony (not to mention odoriferous) creatures that awaited
them with outstretched arms in Dalton; and Scottie did not, so to speak, carry her audience
with her. Then another spoke in favour of the scarab. She reminded us of what a charm-
ing ring it would make, and we were all delighted with the notion until someone vaguely
suggested expense. Imagine dispatching a little order to Egypt of “eighty scarabs for
the Junior Class!”’ ‘“‘Besides,”’ said Scottie, clinching matters, in her snappiest tone, “As
if any one would want to have an embalmed bug for her class animal!’’

As for the chameleon, we dealt with him most scornfully. We recalled his propen-
sity for changing colours; a propensity of which, even in those early days, we felt ourselves
incapable. Then Rosie addressed the chair. She said, both loudly and fervently, that she
thought a green dragon would be beautiful! Again she repeated the remark, with that
intense empressement of which only Rosie is capable. We somehow felt that Rosie must
know a dragon personally; that she must have deep, intimate reason for her feeling about
dragons. We dared not protest. So we passed to the next candidate.

He was mine. Someone had given me two peacock pillows for Christmas, and I couldn’t
help thinking how nice they would look, decorating a class show, or something. Also,
I thought I remembered having seen peacocks in the Catacombs; and behold! the
encyclopedia had revealed to me wondrous facts concerning the elusive bird. After I had
endeavoured to set forth these facts in polished English, the inevitable protest arose. The
peacock was the bird of ill-omen. Oh, well, that was mere superstition, far beneath us
as Bryn Mawr students! And finally it was said that 1911 had a reputation for conceited-
ness (a thing which, by the way, we did not long retain), and that the peacock was the
“symbol of vanity.” Then I played, as I thought, my trump card. Fresh from research

in the reference room, I replied with dignity: ‘‘ Anyone with any education at all would
know that the peacock stood for immortality.”” But then Scottie, who also had been to
the reference room, rose and retorted with fervour: “Anyone with any education at all

y??

would know that the frog stood for inspiration
I relapsed into painful silence. Both of us had perjured our souls, but it would have