swing on such inconsequential hinges. It is so
exasperating to look back over the path of a calamity
and see how easily it might have been averted!
If one man in the little town of Lawrence a generation
ago had eaten two pieces of pie-plant pie instead
of three for supper, the night of a certain party
caucus, he would have attended that caucus and another
set of delegates would have gone to the County convention,
another would have been sent to the State Convention,
another Governor of Kansas would have been nominated
and elected, and he would have chosen another United
States Senator, who would have voted for, instead of
against, the impeachment of a President of the United
States, and the history of the civilized world would
have been an entirely different affair from the one
now in use. Similarly, if Winfield Hancock Pennington,
of the town of Boyville, had slipped his shoes off
in the second block from his home, instead of slipping
them off in the first block, on his way to school,
a great shadow that settled over his life might have
been lifted. For if he had not been sitting exactly
where he sat on the curbing of the street, on that
bright, beautiful Monday morning in September, removing
his shoes and stockings, he would have found no garter
snake to kill; and not having killed the snake, he
could not have brought it to school on a stick; and
not having brought it to school on a stick, he could
not have chased the little girls around the yard with
it before the teacher came. And if he had not
been doing that, he would not have conceived the chivalrous
notion that he might gain the esteem of his Heart’s
Desire by frightening her with a snake. And if
Winfield Hancock Pennington had not made his Heart’s
Desire angry—without giving her a chance
to cool off—she would not have invited
Harold Jones to sit and sing with her during the opening
hour. But probably all that happened had to happen
in the course of things; so speculation is idle.
But when it did happen, it seemed to be a hopeless
case. Young Mr. Pennington had lived through
the day, a week before, when the teacher changed his
seat so that he could not see his Heart’s Desire
smile; but he knew that she was sorry with him, and
that helped a little. But when he saw Harold Jones
singing from the same book with his Heart’s Desire,
he tried in vain to catch the fragment of a smile
from her. Instead of a smile, he found her threatening
to make a face if he persisted. Piggy seemed to
be buried in an avalanche of woe. Then it was
that he saw what a small thing had started the avalanche
of calamity thundering down upon him, and he smarted
with remorse. In his anguish he tried to sing
alto, and made a peculiar rasping sound that tore
a reproof for him off the teacher’s nerves.
[Illustration: Chased the little girls around the yard with it.]
[Illustration: She would not have invited Harold Jones to sit and sing with her during the opening hour.]