VII.
THE SIN BOOKS.
ONE morning Betty was hurrying down Tideshead street to the post-office,and happened to meet the minister's girls and Lizzie French, who weregreat friends with each other. They seemed to be unusually confidentialand interested about something.
"We've got a secret club and we're going to let you belong," said LizzieFrench. "Where can we go to tell you about it, and make you take theoath?"
"Come home with me just as soon as I post this letter," responded Bettywith great pleasure. "Do you think my front steps would be a goodplace?"
"It would be too hot; beside, we don't want Mary Beck to see us,"objected Ellen Grant, who was the most pale and quiet of the twosisters. They were both pleasant, persistent, mild-faced girls, whonever seemed tired or confused, and never liked to change their mindsor to go out of their own way. Usually all the other girls liked to doas they said, and they were accordingly very much pleased with Betty,apparently because she hardly ever agreed with them.
"Let's go to walk, then," said Betty.
"I'll tell you what we'll do," Lizzie Grant said in a business-liketone. "Let's go down the old road a little way, toward the river, andsit under the black cherry-tree on the stone wall; you know how cool itis there in the morning? I can't stay but a little while any way. I amgoing to help mother."
Nobody objected and away they went two by two. Evidently there wasserious business on hand, which could by no means be told lightly orwithout some regard to the surroundings.
"Now what is it?" demanded Betty, when they had seated themselves underthe old black cherry-tree; but neither of the girls took it upon her tospeak first. "I promise never, never to tell."
Mary Grant took a thin, square little book out of her pocket, half of atiny account book of the plainest sort, and held it up to Betty so thatshe could see the letters S. B. C. on the pale brown pasteboard cover.It certainly looked very interesting and mysterious. "We thought that wewould admit another member," said Mary; "but it is a very difficultthing to belong, and you must hold up your right hand and promise onyour word of honor that you will never speak of it to any girl inTideshead."
"I may have to speak of it to papa. I always tell papa if I am not quitecertain about things. He said a great while ago that it was the safestway. I mean I am on my honor about it, that's all. He never asks me."Betty's cheeks grew red as she spoke, but she did speak bravely, and thegirls were more impressed than ever by the seriousness of the club.
"I don't believe that she will have to tell him, do you, girls?" LizzieFrench insisted. "Any way we want you to belong, Betty. You be the oneto tell her, Mary."
"It is a society to help us not to say things about people," said MaryGrant solemnly, and Betty Leicester gave a little sigh of relief. Shethought that would be a most worthy object, though somewhat poky.
"We have made a league that we will try to break ourselves of speakingharshly and making fun of people, and of not standing up for them whenothers talk scandal. There, you see this book is ruled into littlesquares for the days of the week, a month on a page, and when we getthrough a day without saying anything against anybody we can put a nicelittle cross in, but when we have broken the pledge we must mark it witha cipher, and then when we are just horrid and keep on being cross, wemust black the day all over. Then once a week we have to show the booksto each other and make our confessions."
"Wouldn't it be splendid, if we could have a whole week of good marks,to wear a little badge or something?" proposed Lizzie French.
"Oh Lizzie! we never can, it will be so hard to get through one singleday," Betty answered quickly. "I should just love to belong, though; Iam always saying ugly things and being sorry. What does S. B. C. mean?How did you ever think of it?"
"The Sin Book Club," Ellen Grant explained. "Mary and I heard of onethat our cousin belonged to at boarding-school. She said that it tookweeks and weeks for some of the members to make one good mark, but afteryou get into the habit of it, you find it quite easy. I will let youtake my book to make yours by, if you will let me have it back to-night.I bought a little book for Mary and me that was only three cents, andcut it in two; and Lizzie hasn't got hers yet, so you can buy onetogether and go halves."
"I'd like to know who will pay the two cents," laughed Betty. "I will,and then you can give me half a one-cent lead pencil to make change.Papa always has such a joke about a man in one of Mr. Lowell's poems whoused to change a board nail for a shingle nail so as to make the weightcome right."
"No, you give me the pencil," said Lizzie, "I lost mine yesterday," andthe new members became unduly frivolous.
"Now we mustn't laugh, girls, because it is a solemn moment," said EllenGrant, though she did not succeed in looking very sober herself.
Betty was looking at Mary Grant's sin book, which had kept the recordof two days, both with bad marks. If Mary had failed, what couldimpulsive Betty hope for? it was one of her worst temptations to makefun or to find petty faults in people. She did not know what her friendswould think of her as time went on, but she meant to try very hard.
"Just think how lovely it will be if we learn never to say anythingagainst any one! Perhaps we ought to make it a big club instead of alittle one," but one of the girls said that people would laugh and wouldbe watching them.
"Oughtn't we to ask Becky to belong?" It was difficult for Betty to askthis question, but she feared that her dear friend and neighbor's sharpeyes would detect the secret alliance, and Mary Beck was very hard toconsole when she was once roused into displeasure. Somehow Betty likedthe idea of belonging to a club that Mary Beck did not know about. Shewas a little ashamed of this feeling, but there it was! The Grants andLizzie refused to have Becky join, at any rate just now; and so Bettysaid no more. Perhaps it would be just as well at first, and she wouldbe as careful as possible to gain good marks for her friend's sake aswell as her own. Then the four members of the S. B. C. came backtogether into the village, and if the black cherry-tree heard theirsecret it never told. Whom should they meet as they turned the cornerinto the main street but Mary Beck herself, and Betty for one momentfelt guilty of great disloyalty.
"We have been to walk a little way; I met the girls as I was going tothe post-office, and we just went down the old road and sat under thecherry-tree," she hastened to explain, but Becky was in a most friendlymood and joined them with no suspicion of having been left out of anypleasure. Betty felt a secret joy in belonging to the club while Beckydid not, and yet she was sorry all the time for Becky, who had a greatpride in being at the front when anything important was going on. Beckyliked to keep Betty Leicester to herself, and indeed the two girls weregrowing more and more fond of each other, though a touch of jealousy inone and a spirit of independence and freedom in the other sometimes blewclouds over their sunny spring sky. Mary Beck had a way of seeing howpeople treated her and rating them accordingly--a sillyself-compassionate way of saying that one was good to her, and a surlysuspicion of another who did not pay her an expected attention, andthese traits offended Betty Leicester, who was not given to puttingeither herself or other people under a microscope. There was nothingmorbid about Betty and no sentimentality in her way of looking atherself. Becky's sensitiveness and prejudice were sometimes verytiresome, but they made nobody half so miserable as they did Beckyherself; the talk she had always heard at home was very narrowing; agood deal of fruitless talk about small neighborhood affairs went oncontinually and had nothing to do with the real interests of life. Itwas a house where there was very little to show for the time that wasspent. Mary Beck and her mother let many chances for their ownusefulness and pleasure slip by, while they said mournfully thateverything would have been so different if Mary's father had lived.Betty Leicester was taught to do the things that ought to be done.
The Sin Book Club continued to be a profound secret, and was consideredof great value. Some days passed without a second meeting of themembers for reports, but they gave each other significant looks andtried very hard to gain the
little crosses that were to mark a good day.Betty was in despair when evening after evening she had to put down acipher, and it was a great humiliation to find how often she yielded toa temptation to say funny things about people. To be sure old Mrs. Maxwas an ugly old gossip, but Betty need not have confided this opinion toSerena and Letty as they happened to look out of the kitchen windows, tosee Mrs. Max go by. Betty had succeeded in being blameless until pastsix o'clock that day, and it was the fifth day of trial; lost now, andblack-marked like those that had gone before. She went back to thegarden and sat down in the summer-house much dejected. The light thatcame through the grape and clematis leaves was dim and tinted withgreen; it was a little damp there too, and quite like a sorrowful littlehermitage. It is very hard work trying to cure a fault. Betty did solike to make people laugh, and she was always seeing what funny thingspeople looked like; and altogether life was much soberer if one could nolonger say whatever came into one's head. She was sure that all funnypersonalities did not make people think the less of their fellows, butit seemed as if most, and the very funniest, did. Our friend dreaded theinspection of her sin book, but when the Grants and Lizzie French showedtheirs too in solemn conclave there was only one good mark for the wholefour. This was Ellen Grant's, who talked much less than either of theothers and so may have found that silence cost less effort.
"Even if we never succeed it will make us more careful," Lizzie Frenchsaid, trying to keep up good courage.
"I keep wishing that Mary Beck belonged;" urged Betty loyally, but theothers were resolute and insisted, nobody could tell exactly why, thatBecky would spoil it all.
Betty was valiant enough in case of open war, but she hated heartily--aswho does not hate?--a chilling atmosphere of disapproval, in which nogood-fellowship can flourish. Of course the club soon betrayed itscommon interest, and because Mary Beck was unobservant for the firstweek or two, Betty took little pains to conceal the fact that she andthe Grants had a new interest in common. Then one day Becky did notcome over, though the white handkerchief was displayed betimes; andwhen, as soon as possible, Betty hurried over to see what the matterwas, Becky showed unmistakable signs of briefness and grumpiness ofspeech, and declared that she was busy at home, and evidently did notcare for the news that an old AEolian harp had been discovered on a highupper shelf and carried to one of the dormer windows, where it was thenwailing. The plaintive strains of it would have suited Becky's spiritand temper of mind excellently. It did not occur to Betty until she wasgoing home, disappointed, that the club was beginning to make trouble;then her own good temper was spoiled for that day, and she was angrywith Becky for thinking that she had no right to be intimate withanybody else. So serious a disagreement had never parted them before.Betty Leicester assured herself that Mary knew she was fond of her andliked to be with her best, and that ought to be enough. The AEolian harpwas quite forgotten.
Later in the day Betty happened to look across the street as she wasshutting the blinds in the upper hall, and saw Mary Beck come proudlydown her short front walk with her best hat on and go stiffly awaywithout a look across. The sight made her feel misunderstood and lonely;and one minute later she was just going to shout to Becky when sheremembered that it was a far cry and would wake the aunts from theirafternoon naps. Then she ran lightly down the wide staircase and all theway to the gate and called as loud as she could, "Mary! Mary!" buteither Becky was too far away or would not turn her proud head. Therewere some other persons in the street, who looked with surprise andinterest to see where such an eager shout came from, but Betty Leicesterhad turned toward the house again with a heartful of rage and sorrow. Itseemed to be the sudden and unlooked-for end of the summer's pleasure.When Aunt Barbara waked she asked Betty, being somewhat surprised tofind her in the house alone, to go to the other end of the village to doan errand.
It was good to have something to do beside growing crosser and crosser,and Betty gladly hurried away. She hoped that she should meet Becky,and yet she did not mean to make up too easily, and when she saw Mrs.Beck watching her out of a front window she felt certain that Mrs. Beckwas cross too. "Let them get pleased again!" grumbled Miss BettyLeicester, and Mary Beck herself had not borne a more forbiddingexpression. She lingered a moment at Nelly Foster's gate, hoping to findNelly free, but the noise of the sewing-machine was plainly to be heard,and Nelly said wistfully that she could not go out until after tea; thenshe would come down to the house for a little while if Betty would likeit, and Betty gladly said yes. Her heart was shaken as she walked onalone and came to the oak-tree on the high ridge where Becky had takenher to see the view and told her that she always called it their tree,in that first afternoon's walk. What could make poor old Becky sountrustful and unkind? Perhaps after all everything would be right whenthey met again; it might be one of Becky's freaks, only a little worsethan usual. Alas, Mary with Julia Picknell, who happened to be in thevillage that afternoon, came out of one of the stores as the returningBetty was passing, and Becky looked another way and pushed by, thoughBetty had spoken pleasantly and tried to stop her.
"I don't care one bit; you're rude and hateful, Mary Beck!" said Bettyhotly, at which Julia, mild little friend that she was, lookedfrightened and amazed. She had thought many times how lovely it must beto live in town and have friendships of a close and intimate kind withthe girls. She pitied Betty Leicester, who looked as if she could hardlykeep from crying; but the grievous Becky was more grumpy than before.
* * * * *
Serena was walking in the side yard in her nice plain afternoon dress,and somehow Betty felt more like seeking comfort from her than from AuntBarbara, and was glad to go in at the little gate and join her kind oldfriend.
"What's fell upon _you_?" asked Serena, with sincere compassion.
"Mary Beck's just as disagreeable as she can be to-day," respondedBetty, regardless of her sin book. "Serena! I just hate her, and I hatethat horrid best hat of hers with the feather in it."
"Oh, no you don't, sweetin's;" Serena protested peacefully. "You'll bekeepin' company same's ever to-morrow. Now I think of 't, you've beenoff a good deal with the Grants and that French girl" (not a favorite ofSerena's); "I wonder if that's all?"
"Yes--no"--wavered Betty. "Don't you tell anybody, but I do belong to alittle club, but Becky doesn't really understand, for we've kept it verysecret indeed."
"I want to know," exclaimed Serena.
"Yes, and it's for such a good object. I'll tell you some time, perhaps,but we want to cure ourselves of a fault." It seemed no harm to tellgood old Serena; the compact had only been that none of the other girlsshould know. "We keep a little book, and we can have a good mark atnight if we haven't said anything against anybody, but to-day I shallhave such a black one! It makes us careful how we speak; truly, Serena;but Becky doesn't know, and she's making me feel so badly just becauseshe suspects something."
"The tongue is an evil member," said Serena. "I don't know but doingthings is full as bad as sayin' 'em, though. I s'pose you ain't kind offlaunted it a little speck that you had some secret amon'st you, tospite Mary?"
"She was stuffy about it and she had no right to be," Betty said this atfirst hastily, and then added: "I did wish yesterday that she would askto belong and find that for once she couldn't."
Serena took Betty's light hand in her own work-worn one and held itfast. "Le's come and set on the doorstep a spell," she said; "I want totell you something about me an' a girl I thought everything of when wewas young.
"She was real pretty, and we went together and had our young men--notserious, only kind o' going together; an' Cynthy an' me we had amisunderstandin' o' one another and we didn't speak for much's afortnight an' said spiteful things. I was here same's I be now, an' yourAunt Barbara, she was young too, an' the old lady, Madam Leicester, shewas alive and they all was inquirin' what had come over me. I used tohave a pretty voice then, and I wouldn't go to singin'-school or evenin'meetin' nor nothin'. I set out to leave here an' my good kind home
an'go off to Lowell working in the mill, 't was when so many did, and girlsliked it. Cynthy lived to the minister's folks. I've never got over ithow ugly spoken I was about that poor girl, and she used to look kind ofbeseechin' at me the two or three times we met, as if she'd make up if Iwould, but I wouldn't. An' don't you think, one night her brother comeafter her to take her home, up Great Hill way, and the horse got scaredand threw 'em out on the ice; an' when they picked Cynthy up she wasjust breathin' an' that was all, an' never spoke nor knew nothin' again.'T was at the foot o' that hill just this side o' the Picknells. It giveme a fit o' sickness; it did so," said Serena mournfully. "I can't bearto think about her never. Oh, she was one of the prettiest girls youever saw. I try to go every summer an' lay a bunch o' pink roses on toher grave; she used to like 'em. I know 't was a fault o' youth an'hastiness, but I ain't never forgot it all my long life. I tell you witha reason. Folks says it takes two to make a quarrel but only one to endit. Now you bear that in your mind."
Betty glanced at old Serena, and saw two great tears slowly running downher faded cheek. She was much moved by the sad little story, andSerena's pretty friend and the pink roses. She wondered what the quarrelhad been about, but she did not like to ask, and as Serena still heldone hand she put the other over it, while Serena took the corner of herafternoon apron to wipe away the tears.
"It's very hard to be good, isn't it, Serena dear?" asked Betty.
"It's master hard, sweetin's," answered Serena gravely,--"master hard;but it can be done with help." They sat there on the shady doorstep forsome minutes without speaking. A robin was chirping loud, as if forrain, high in one of the elms overhead, and the sun was getting low.Presently Serena was mindful of her evening duties and rose to go in,but not before Betty had put both arms round her and kissed her.
"There, there! somebody'll see you," protested the kind soul, but herface shone with joy. "Which d' you want for your supper, shortcakes orsome o' them crispy rye ones?" she asked, trying to be verymatter-of-fact. As for Betty, she turned and went down the yard and outof the carriage gate and straight across the wide street. She opened theBecks' front door and saw Becky at the end of the entry trying to escapeto the garden.
"Don't let's be grumpy," she said in a friendly tone, "I've come over tomake up."
Becky tried to preserve a stern expression, but somehow there was awarmth at her heart which suddenly came to the surface in a smile andthe two girls were friends again. That night Betty put down a blackmark, but not without feeling that the day had ended well in spite ofits dark shadows.
"I don't believe that we ought to keep the sin books secret," she toldthe members of the club one afternoon when the second week's trial wasover and there had been four or five good days for encouragement. "Idon't wish everybody to know, but now that we find how much good they dous, we ought to let somebody else try; only Becky and the Picknells andNelly Foster."
But there was no expression of approval.
"Then I'm going to do this: not tell them about this club, but behave asif it was something new and start another club. I could belong to twoas well as one, you know."
"I wouldn't be such a copy-cat," said Lizzie French quickly. "It's _our_secret; we shall be provoked that we ever asked you," and with thisverdict Betty was forced to be contented. She felt as if she had takenmost inflexible vows, but there was a pleasing excitement in such darkmystery. The girls had to employ much stratagem in order to have theirweekly meetings unsuspected, for Betty was determined not to make anymore trouble among her friends. When she was first in Tideshead sheoften felt more enlightened than her neighbors, as if she had beenbeyond those bounds and experiences of every-day life known to the othergirls, but she soon discovered herself to be single-handed and weakbefore their force of habit and prejudice. With all their friendlinessand affection for Betty Leicester they held their own with greatdecision, and sometimes she found herself nothing but a despisedminority. This was very good for her, especially when, as it sometimeshappened, she was quite in the wrong, while if she were right she becamemore sure of it and was able to make her reasons clear.
There were several solemn evening meetings of the Sin Book Club afterthis; the favorite place of assemblage was a shady corner of LizzieFrench's damp garden, where the records were sorrowfully inspected bythe fleeting light of burnt matches, and gratified crowds of mosquitoesforced the sessions to be extremely brief. Whether it was that newinterests took the place of the club, or whether the members thoughtbest to keep their trials to themselves, no one can say, but by themiddle of August the regular meetings had ceased. Yet sometimes thelittle books came accidentally out of pocket with a member'shandkerchief, and were not without a good and lasting effect upon fourquick young tongues; perhaps this will be seen as the story goes on.