"Oh, yes," Cecily had a.s.sured him. "The Bible is always the same."
"I thought maybe they"d got some new improvements on it since Aunt Jane"s day," said Peter, relieved.
"Sara Ray is coming along the lane, and she"s crying," announced Dan, who was peering out of a knot-hole on the opposite side of the loft.
"Sara Ray is crying half her time," said Cecily impatiently. "I"m sure she cries a quartful of tears a month. There are times when you can"t help crying. But I hide then. Sara just goes and cries in public."
The lachrymose Sara presently joined us and we discovered the cause of her tears to be the doleful fact that her mother had forbidden her to go to the magic lantern show that night. We all showed the sympathy we felt.
"She SAID yesterday you could go," said the Story Girl indignantly. "Why has she changed her mind?"
"Because of the measles in Markdale," sobbed Sara. "She says Markdale is full of them, and there"ll be sure to be some of the Markdale people at the show. So I"m not to go. And I"ve never seen a magic lantern--I"ve never seen ANYTHING."
"I don"t believe there"s any danger of catching measles," said Felicity.
"If there was we wouldn"t be allowed to go."
"I wish I COULD get the measles," said Sara defiantly. "Maybe I"d be of some importance to ma then."
"Suppose Cecily goes down with you and coaxes your mother," suggested the Story Girl. "Perhaps she"d let you go then. She likes Cecily. She doesn"t like either Felicity or me, so it would only make matters worse for us to try."
"Ma"s gone to town--pa and her went this afternoon--and they"re not coming back till to-morrow. There"s n.o.body home but Judy Pineau and me."
"Then," said the Story Girl, "why don"t you just go to the show anyhow?
Your mother won"t ever know, if you coax Judy to hold her tongue."
"Oh, but that"s wrong," said Felicity. "You shouldn"t put Sara up to disobeying her mother."
Now, Felicity for once was undoubtedly right. The Story Girl"s suggestion WAS wrong; and if it had been Cecily who protested, the Story Girl would probably have listened to her, and proceeded no further in the matter. But Felicity was one of those unfortunate people whose protests against wrong-doing serve only to drive the wrong-doer further on her sinful way.
The Story Girl resented Felicity"s superior tone, and proceeded to tempt Sara in right good earnest. The rest of us held our tongues. It was, we told ourselves, Sara"s own lookout.
"I have a good mind to do it," said Sara, "but I can"t get my good clothes; they"re in the spare room, and ma locked the door, for fear somebody would get at the fruit cake. I haven"t a single thing to wear, except my school gingham."
"Well, that"s new and pretty," said the Story Girl. "We"ll lend you some things. You can have my lace collar. That"ll make the gingham quite elegant. And Cecily will lend you her second best hat."
"But I"ve no shoes or stockings. They"re locked up too."
"You can have a pair of mine," said Felicity, who probably thought that since Sara was certain to yield to temptation, she might as well be garbed decently for her transgression.
Sara did yield. When the Story Girl"s voice entreated it was not easy to resist its temptation, even if you wanted to. That evening, when we started for the schoolhouse, Sara Ray was among us, decked out in borrowed plumes.
"Suppose she DOES catch the measles?" Felicity said aside.
"I don"t believe there"ll be anybody there from Markdale. The lecturer is going to Markdale next week. They"ll wait for that," said the Story Girl airily.
It was a cool, dewy evening, and we walked down the long, red hill in the highest of spirits. Over a valley filled with beech and spruce was a sunset afterglow--creamy yellow and a hue that was not so much red as the dream of red, with a young moon swung low in it. The air was sweet with the breath of mown hayfields where swaths of clover had been steeping in the sun. Wild roses grew pinkly along the fences, and the roadsides were star-dusted with b.u.t.tercups.
Those of us who had nothing the matter with our consciences enjoyed our walk to the little whitewashed schoolhouse in the valley. Felicity and Cecily were void of offence towards all men. The Story Girl walked uprightly like an incarnate flame in her crimson silk. Her pretty feet were hidden in the tan-coloured, b.u.t.toned Paris boots which were the secret envy of every school girl in Carlisle.
But Sara Ray was not happy. Her face was so melancholy that the Story Girl lost patience with her. The Story Girl herself was not altogether at ease. Probably her own conscience was troubling her. But admit it she would not.
"Now, Sara," she said, "you just take my advice and go into this with all your heart if you go at all. Never mind if it is bad. There"s no use being naughty if you spoil your fun by wishing all the time you were good. You can repent afterwards, but there is no use in mixing the two things together."
"I"m not repenting," protested Sara. "I"m only scared of ma finding it out."
"Oh!" The Story Girl"s voice expressed her scorn. For remorse she had understanding and sympathy; but fear of her fellow creatures was something unknown to her. "Didn"t Judy Pineau promise you solemnly she wouldn"t tell?"
"Yes; but maybe some one who sees me there will mention it to ma."
"Well, if you"re so scared you"d better not go. It isn"t too late.
Here"s your own gate," said Cecily.
But Sara could not give up the delights of the show. So she walked on, a small, miserable testimony that the way of the transgressor is never easy, even when said transgressor is only a damsel of eleven.
The magic lantern show was a splendid one. The views were good and the lecturer witty. We repeated his jokes to each other all the way home.
Sara, who had not enjoyed the exhibition at all, seemed to feel more cheerful when it was over and she was going home. The Story Girl on the contrary was gloomy.
"There WERE Markdale people there," she confided to me, "and the Williamsons live next door to the Cowans, who have measles. I wish I"d never egged Sara on to going--but don"t tell Felicity I said so. If Sara Ray had really enjoyed the show I wouldn"t mind. But she didn"t. I could see that. So I"ve done wrong and made her do wrong--and there"s nothing to show for it."
The night was scented and mysterious. The wind was playing an eerie fleshless melody in the reeds of the brook hollow. The sky was dark and starry, and across it the Milky Way flung its shimmering misty ribbons.
"There"s four hundred million stars in the Milky Way," quoth Peter, who frequently astonished us by knowing more than any hired boy could be expected to. He had a retentive memory, and never forgot anything he heard or read. The few books left to him by his oft-referred-to Aunt Jane had stocked his mind with a miscellaneous information which sometimes made Felix and me doubt if we knew as much as Peter after all.
Felicity was so impressed by his knowledge of astronomy that she dropped back from the other girls and walked beside him. She had not done so before because he was barefooted. It was permissible for hired boys to go to public meetings--when not held in the church--with bare feet, and no particular disgrace attached to it. But Felicity would not walk with a barefooted companion. It was dark now, so n.o.body would notice his feet.
"I know a story about the Milky Way," said the Story Girl, brightening up. "I read it in a book of Aunt Louisa"s in town, and I learned it off by heart. Once there were two archangels in heaven, named Zerah and Zulamith--"
"Have angels names--same as people?" interrupted Peter.
"Yes, of course. They MUST have. They"d be all mixed up if they hadn"t."
"And when I"m an angel--if I ever get to be one--will my name still be Peter?"
"No. You"ll have a new name up there," said Cecily gently. "It says so in the Bible."
"Well, I"m glad of that. Peter would be such a funny name for an angel.
And what is the difference between angels and archangels?"
"Oh, archangels are angels that have been angels so long that they"ve had time to grow better and brighter and more beautiful than newer angels," said the Story Girl, who probably made that explanation up on the spur of the moment, just to pacify Peter.
"How long does it take for an angel to grow into an archangel?" pursued Peter.
"Oh, I don"t know. Millions of years likely. And even then I don"t suppose ALL the angels do. A good many of them must just stay plain angels, I expect."
"I shall be satisfied just to be a plain angel," said Felicity modestly.
"Oh, see here, if you"re going to interrupt and argue over everything, we"ll never get the story told," said Felix. "Dry up, all of you, and let the Story Girl go on."
We dried up, and the Story Girl went on.