Page:Our Little Girl (1923).pdf/36

 It was a distinction to have a diploma from Miss Blagden’s School, Dorothy thought. Her father had never completed high school and her mother had drifted about in various public schools, never, apparently, obtaining any certificates of recognition. Dorothy reflected how easily she had gone through Miss Blagden’s curriculum. The imposing catalogue issued by that institution showed that an alumna must have a broad grasp on all of the arts and sciences. Dorothy had “taken” nearly everything available, although the intricacies of algebra had caused the abandonment of that subject in favor of music appreciation, which contributed an equal number, of credits toward a diploma, and which required little more than attention to performances of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony on a player-piano. The college preparatory course might have been more difficult, but the “liberal arts” program was better adapted for one looking forward to a musical career. It was especially recommended to girls who “hoped to become home-makers,” and to those whose choice of studies was “not governed by college entrance regulations.”

There was something satisfying and ennobling in the possession of a diploma from Miss Blagden’s School. It was an order of merit. It was, as the valedictorian had said, “something that no time nor tide could take away from you.”

Uncle Elliott, who always led the conversation at family affairs, asked Mr. Loamford about a new bond issue. Mr. Loamford answered statistically, and the economic debate lasted through several courses. It bored Dorothy terribly.

But with the demi-tasse (why wasn’t it served in the parlor after the meal?) Uncle Elliott arose, with his cigar pointing at an imaginary heap of penciled notes.