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Updated: May 31, 2025
All the while Azzie played her solemn dead march. At the conclusion, Miss Cresswell arose to announce they would begin the services by singing the popular ballad "Go tell Aunt Nancy." At this, the mournful singers, with Azzie accompanying them, sang in wailing, heart-broken voices: Each Senior did her part well, maintaining an expression which was the picture of grief.
"I knew nothing could induce her to visit us without these," with another Indian flourish of the scalps in the air. "We are safe to-night. To-morrow Smiles will have a headache, and will not be able to come down to breakfast, and perhaps not during the entire day. Drop in to-morrow to ask her something and see if you do not find her with her head tied up." It was impossible not to laugh at Azzie.
She smiled in spite of the feeling of vengeance she had been cherishing against her tormentor. Before she could regain her austerity of manner, Azzie had departed and was half way down the dormitory hall, on her way to the music-room for an hour's practice before dinner. Thanksgiving was not a day of unalloyed happiness to Elizabeth.
"It is certainly wonderful how Azzie can play," said Min. "Every one seems to enjoy it; but, do you know, just for myself, I like popular airs best? Beethoven and Mozart may be fine, but I like the kind that the newsboys whistle and all the hurdy-gurdies play." "Wouldn't Mozart turn in his grave if he heard her?" asked Mame. "Speak to her, Azzie. Reason with her.
Their wearers were being comfortable on chairs and stools so far as they held out. The girls in excess of the number had curled themselves up, Turkish fashion, on cushions on the floor. "Smiles must have allowed Azzie to practice," said Mary Wilson, with a leg of chicken held aloft. "Mary looks like Liberty enlightening the world," said Elizabeth. "The drumstick answers very well for a torch."
"Taking scalps is not all the fun it's supposed to be, is it?" asked Mame Welch. "The taking is all right. The taking back is what hurts my feelings." Azzie sighed deeply as she began to unwrap the paper about the false fronts. "I don't know whether I'll have the courage to lay them inside her door or not. I'd put it off until to-morrow if it wasn't for the Thanksgiving dinner.
Devotional exercises were held in the chapel at ten o'clock. Mrs. Schuyler's place on the rostrum was vacant. "She's been in her room all morning," giggled Min to Landis on their way to their rooms. "I hope Azzie will see the error of her ways before dinner time," Mary Wilson said. "I should not like to miss a Thanksgiving dinner."
"But you are comfortable," gasped Mame, in short breaths. "If Min Kean had had a little more flesh on her bones when this dress was fitted, I would have felt better now. Nancy had to use a shoe-hook to fasten the buttons." "Have you seen Laura Downs? She looks exactly like Landis. The dress fits except it is a little short in the waist; but Azzie pinned up the skirt. It doesn't look bad.
Schuyler will not appear this night, or to-morrow either, if I am not mistaken." At her invitation the girls came forth. Azzie was too tall, too long to seat herself with any grace of body. She had the effect of sprawling. That she did now. Her purple kimono, resplendent with green roses and bands, caused her to look like a great rag-doll with most of the sawdust missing.
While conversation buzzed, and fans fluttered, Azzie, dressed as somberly as the rostrum looked, walked slowly down the main aisle. Her gown was of some thin black stuff. She suited her walk and expression to match the color of her dress. She wore no flowers. A big roll of music was in her hand. "She's going to play."
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