Rainbow Valley by Lucy Maud Montgomery (rooftoppers txt) đ
- Author: Lucy Maud Montgomery
- Performer: 0553269216
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âWalter and the twins are in Rainbow Valley. Jem is studying in the garret.â
âThey are all crazy about Rainbow Valley. Mary Vance thinks itâs the only place in the world. Sheâd be off up here every evening if Iâd let her. But I donât encourage her in gadding. Besides, I miss the creature when she isnât around, Anne dearie. I never thought Iâd get so fond of her. Not but what I see her faults and try to correct them. But she has never said one saucy word to me since she came to my house and she is a GREAT helpâfor when all is said and done, Anne dearie, I am not so young as I once was, and there is no sense denying it. I was fifty-nine my last birthday. I donât FEEL it, but there is no gainsaying the Family Bible.â
CHAPTER XXVII. A SACRED CONCERT
In spite of Miss Corneliaâs new point of view she could not help feeling a little disturbed over the next performance of the manse children. In public she carried off the situation splendidly, saying to all the gossips the substance of what Anne had said in daffodil time, and saying it so pointedly and forcibly that her hearers found themselves feeling rather foolish and began to think that, after all, they were making too much of a childish prank. But in private Miss Cornelia allowed herself the relief of bemoaning it to Anne.
âAnne dearie, they had a CONCERT IN THE GRAVEYARD last Thursday evening, while the Methodist prayer meeting was going on. There they sat, on Hezekiah Pollockâs tombstone, and sang for a solid hour. Of course, I understand it was mostly hymns they sang, and it wouldnât have been quite so bad if theyâd done nothing else. But Iâm told they finished up with Polly Wolly Doodle at full lengthâand that just when Deacon Baxter was praying.â
âI was there that night,â said Susan, âand, although I did not say anything about it to you, Mrs. Dr. dear, I could not help thinking that it was a great pity they picked that particular evening. It was truly blood-curdling to hear them sitting there in that abode of the dead, shouting that frivolous song at the tops of their lungs.â
âI donât know what YOU were doing in a Methodist prayer meeting,â said Miss Cornelia acidly.
âI have never found that Methodism was catching,â retorted Susan stiffly. âAnd, as I was going to say when I was interrupted, badly as I felt, I did NOT give in to the Methodists. When Mrs. Deacon Baxter said, as we came out, âWhat a disgraceful exhibition!â I said, looking her fairly in the eye, âThey are all beautiful singers, and none of YOUR choir, Mrs. Baxter, ever bother themselves coming out to your prayer meeting, it seems. Their voices appear to be in tune only on Sundays!â She was quite meek and I felt that I had snubbed her properly. But I could have done it much more thoroughly, Mrs. Dr. dear, if only they had left out Polly Wolly Doodle. It is truly terrible to think of that being sung in a graveyard.â
âSome of those dead folks sang Polly Wolly Doodle when they were living, Susan. Perhaps they like to hear it yet,â suggested Gilbert.
Miss Cornelia looked at him reproachfully and made up her mind that, on some future occasion, she would hint to Anne that the doctor should be admonished not to say such things. They might injure his practice. People might get it into their heads that he wasnât orthodox. To be sure, Marshall said even worse things habitually, but then HE was not a public man.
âI understand that their father was in his study all the time, with his windows open, but never noticed them at all. Of course, he was lost in a book as usual. But I spoke to him about it yesterday, when he called.â
âHow could you dare, Mrs. Marshall Elliott?â asked Susan rebukingly.
âDare! Itâs time somebody dared something. Why, they say he knows nothing about that letter of Faithâs to the JOURNAL because nobody liked to mention it to him. He never looks at a JOURNAL of course. But I thought he ought to know of this to prevent any such performances in future. He said he would âdiscuss it with them.â But of course heâd never think of it again after he got out of our gate. That man has no sense of humour, Anne, believe ME. He preached last Sunday on âHow to Bring up Children.â A beautiful sermon it was, tooâand everybody in church thinking âwhat a pity you canât practise what you preach.ââ
Miss Cornelia did Mr. Meredith an injustice in thinking he would soon forget what she had told him. He went home much disturbed and when the children came from Rainbow Valley that night, at a much later hour than they should have been prowling in it, he called them into his study.
They went in, somewhat awed. It was such an unusual thing for their father to do. What could he be going to say to them? They racked their memories for any recent transgression of sufficient importance, but could not recall any. Carl had spilled a saucerful of jam on Mrs. Peter Flaggâs silk dress two evenings before, when, at Aunt Marthaâs invitation, she had stayed to supper. But Mr. Meredith had not noticed it, and Mrs. Flagg, who was a kindly soul, had made no fuss. Besides, Carl had been punished by having to wear Unaâs dress all the rest of the evening.
Una suddenly thought that perhaps her father meant to tell them that he was going to marry Miss West. Her heart began to beat violently and her legs trembled. Then she saw that Mr. Meredith looked very stern and sorrowful. No, it could not be that.
âChildren,â said Mr. Meredith, âI have heard something that has pained me very much. Is it true that you sat out in the graveyard all last Thursday evening and sang ribald songs while a prayer meeting was being held in the Methodist church?â
âGreat Caesar, Dad, we forgot all about it being their prayer meeting night,â exclaimed Jerry in dismay.
âThen it is trueâyou did do this thing?â
âWhy, Dad, I donât know what you mean by ribald songs. We sang hymnsâit was a sacred concert, you know. What harm was that? I tell you we never thought about itâs being Methodist prayer meeting night. They used to have their meeting Tuesday nights and since theyâve changed to Thursdays itâs hard to remember.â
âDid you sing nothing but hymns?â
âWhy,â said Jerry, turning red, âwe DID sing Polly Wolly Doodle at the last. Faith said, âLetâs have something cheerful to wind up with.â But we didnât mean any harm, Fatherâtruly we didnât.â
âThe concert was my idea, Father,â said Faith, afraid that Mr. Meredith might blame Jerry too much. âYou know the Methodists themselves had a sacred concert in their church three Sunday nights ago. I thought it would be good fun to get one up in imitation of it. Only they had prayers at theirs, and we left that part out, because we heard that people thought it awful for us to pray in a graveyard. YOU were sitting in here all the time,â she added, âand never said a word to us.â
âI did not notice what you were doing. That is no excuse for me, of course. I am more to blame than youâI realize that. But why did you sing that foolish song at the end?â
âWe didnât think,â muttered Jerry, feeling that it was a very lame excuse, seeing that he had lectured Faith so strongly in the Good-Conduct Club sessions for her lack of thought. âWeâre sorry, Fatherâtruly, we are. Pitch into us hardâwe deserve a regular combing down.â
But Mr. Meredith did no combing down or pitching into. He sat down and gathered his small culprits close to him and talked a little to them, tenderly and wisely. They were overcome with remorse and shame, and felt that they could never be so silly and thoughtless again.
âWeâve just got to punish ourselves good and hard for this,â whispered Jerry as they crept upstairs. âWeâll have a session of the Club first thing tomorrow and decide how weâll do it. I never saw father so cut up. But I wish to goodness the Methodists would stick to one night for their prayer meeting and not wander all over the week.â
âAnyhow, Iâm glad it wasnât what I was afraid it was,â murmured Una to herself.
Behind them, in the study, Mr. Meredith had sat down at his desk and buried his face in his arms.
âGod help me!â he said. âIâm a poor sort of father. Oh, Rosemary! If you had only cared!â
CHAPTER XXVIII. A FAST DAY
The Good-Conduct Club had a special session the next morning before school. After various suggestions, it was decided that a fast day would be an appropriate punishment.
âWe wonât eat a single thing for a whole day,â said Jerry. âIâm kind of curious to see what fasting is like, anyhow. This will be a good chance to find out.â
âWhat day will we choose for it?â asked Una, who thought it would be quite an easy punishment and rather wondered that Jerry and Faith had not devised something harder.
âLetâs pick Monday,â said Faith. âWe mostly have a pretty FILLING dinner on Sundays, and Mondays meals never amount to much anyhow.â
âBut thatâs just the point,â exclaimed Jerry. âWe mustnât take the easiest day to fast, but the hardestâand thatâs Sunday, because, as you say, we mostly have roast beef that day instead of cold ditto. It wouldnât be much punishment to fast from ditto. Letâs take next Sunday. It will be a good day, for father is going to exchange for the morning service with the Upper Lowbridge minister. Father will be away till evening. If Aunt Martha wonders whatâs got into us, weâll tell her right up that weâre fasting for the good of our souls, and it is in the Bible and she is not to interfere, and I guess she wonât.â
Aunt Martha did not. She merely said in her fretful mumbling way, âWhat foolishness are you young rips up to now?â and thought no more about it. Mr. Meredith had gone away early in the morning before any one was up. He went without his breakfast, too, but that was, of course, of common occurrence. Half of the time he forgot it and there was no one to remind him of it. BreakfastâAunt Marthaâs breakfastâwas not a hard meal to miss. Even the hungry âyoung ripsâ did not feel it any great deprivation to abstain from the âlumpy porridge and blue milkâ which had aroused the scorn of Mary Vance. But it was different at dinner time. They were furiously hungry then, and the odor of roast beef which pervaded the manse, and which was wholly delightful in spite of the fact that the roast beef was badly underdone, was almost more than they could stand. In desperation they rushed to the graveyard where they couldnât
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