AllFreeNovel
Share Us
s what the others had been working at since yesterday. They had all written their compositions at home, and Mrs. Brown had helped Ida write hers. Mrs. Brown wrote for the church papers, so Ida’s composition would be good.
Laura had no idea how to begin. She knew nothing about ambition. The only thought in her head was that she was going to fail in a class that she had always led. She must not fail, she couldn’t. She would not. But how did one write a composition? Only five minutes were left.
She found herself staring at the yellow leather cover of the dictionary on its stand by Mr. Owen’s desk. Perhaps, she thought, she might get an idea from reading the definition of ambition. Her fingers were chilly as she hurriedly turned the A pages, but the definition was interesting. Back at her desk, she wrote as fast as she could, and kept on writing desperately while the school was called to order. Miserably she felt that her composition was not good, but there was no time to write it over nor to add anything more. Mr. Owen was calling the grammar class to recite.
One by one, as he called upon them, the others read their compositions, while Laura’s heart sank. Each one seemed better than her own. At last Mr. Owen said, “Laura Ingalls,” and all the class rustled as everyone looked at her expectantly.
Laura stood up, and made herself read aloud what she had written. It was the best that she had been able to do.
AMBITION.
Ambition is necessary to accomplishment. Without an ambition to gain an end, nothing would be done. Without an ambition to excel others and to surpass one’s self there would be no superior merit. To win anything, we must have the ambition to do so.
Ambition is a good servant but a bad master. So long as we control our ambition, it is good, but if there is danger of our being ruled by it, then I would say in the words of Shakespeare, “Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition. By that sin fell the angels.”
That was all. Laura stood miserably waiting for Mr. Owen’s comment. He looked at her sharply and said, “You have written compositions before?”
“No, sir,” Laura said. “This is my first.”
“Well, you should write more of them, I would not have believed that anyone could do so well the first time,” Mr. Owen told her.
Laura stammered in astonishment. “It is s…so short… It is mostly from the dictionary…”
“It is not much like the dictionary,” Mr. Owen said. “There are no corrections. It grades one hundred. Class is dismissed.”
It couldn’t be marked higher. Laura still was at the head of her class. She felt confident now that with steady work she would keep her place at the head of her classes, and she looked forward happily to writing more compositions.
Time no longer dragged. That week went by in a flash, and on Friday when Laura and Carrie went home to dinner Pa said, “I have something for you, Laura.”
His eyes were twinkling as he drew his pocketbook from his pocket. Then one by one he laid in her hand four ten-dollar bills.
“I saw Brewster this morning,” Pa explained. “He gave me this for you, and said you taught a good school. They would like to have you back next winter. But I told him you wouldn’t go so far from home again in the wintertime. I know it wasn’t pleasant at Brewster’s even if you didn’t complain, and I’m proud that you stuck it out, Laura.”
“Oh, Pa! It was worth it,” Laura said breathlessly. “Forty dollars!”
She had known that she was earning forty dollars, but the bills in her hand made the fact seem real for the first time. She looked at them, hardly able to believe it even now. Four ten-dollar bills; forty dollars.
Then she held it out to Pa. “Here, Pa. Take it and keep it for Mary. It’s enough so that she can come home on her vacation this summer, isn’t it?”
“Plenty for that, and then some,” said Pa, as he folded the bills again into his pocketbook.
“Oh, Laura, aren’t you going to have anything at all for teaching your school?” Carrie exclaimed.
“We’ll all see Mary this summer,” Laura answered happily. “I was only teaching school for Mary.” It was a wonderful feeling, to know that she had helped so much. Forty dollars. As she sat down to the good dinner in the pleasant kitchen of home, she said, “I wish I could earn some more.”
“You can if you want to,” Ma said unexpectedly. “Mrs. McKee said this morning she would like to have you help her on Saturdays. She has more dressmaking than she can do alone, and she will pay you fifty cents and dinner.”
“Oh!” Laura cried out. “Did you tell her I will, Ma?”
“I said you might if you’d like to,” Ma smiled.
“When? Tomorrow?” Laura eagerly asked.
“Tomorrow morning at eight o’clock,” said Ma. “Mrs. McKee said she wouldn’t be ready for you till that late. Only from eight to six, she said, unless there’s a rush, and she’ll give you your supper if you stay to finish up something in the evening.”
Mrs. McKee was the town’s dressmaker. The McKees were newcomers who lived in a new house, between Clancy’s drygoods store and the new office building at the corner of Main and Second Street. Laura had met Mrs. McKee at church, and liked her. She was tall and slender with kind blue eyes and a pleasant smile. Her light brown hair was worn in a knot at the back of her head.
So now Laura’s time was full, and all of it was pleasant. The crowded days at school went swiftly by, and all the week Laura looked forward to the day of sewing busily in Mrs. McKee’s living room—that was always in such spotless order that Laura hardly noticed the cookstove at one end.
