CHAPTER XII. AN EXPLANATION AND A DARE
The Rev. Dr. Cooper preached in Glen St. Mary the next evening andthe Presbyterian Church was crowded with people from near and far. TheReverend Doctor was reputed to be a very eloquent speaker; and, bearingin mind the old dictum that a minister should take his best clothesto the city and his best sermons to the country, he delivered a veryscholarly and impressive discourse. But when the folks went home thatnight it was not of Dr. Cooper's sermon they talked. They had completelyforgotten all about it.
Dr. Cooper had concluded with a fervent appeal, had wiped theperspiration from his massive brow, had said "Let us pray" as he wasfamed for saying it, and had duly prayed. There was a slight pause. InGlen St. Mary church the old fashion of taking the collection after thesermon instead of before still held--mainly because the Methodists hadadopted the new fashion first, and Miss Cornelia and Elder Clow wouldnot hear of following where Methodists had led. Charles Baxter andThomas Douglas, whose duty it was to pass the plates, were on the pointof rising to their feet. The organist had got out the music of heranthem and the choir had cleared its throat. Suddenly Faith Meredithrose in the manse pew, walked up to the pulpit platform, and faced theamazed audience.
Miss Cornelia half rose in her seat and then sat down again. Her pew wasfar back and it occurred to her that whatever Faith meant to do or saywould be half done or said before she could reach her. There was no usemaking the exhibition worse than it had to be. With an anguished glanceat Mrs. Dr. Blythe, and another at Deacon Warren of the MethodistChurch, Miss Cornelia resigned herself to another scandal.
"If the child was only dressed decently itself," she groaned in spirit.
Faith, having spilled ink on her good dress, had serenely put on anold one of faded pink print. A caticornered rent in the skirt hadbeen darned with scarlet tracing cotton and the hem had been let down,showing a bright strip of unfaded pink around the skirt. But Faith wasnot thinking of her clothes at all. She was feeling suddenly nervous.What had seemed easy in imagination was rather hard in reality.Confronted by all those staring questioning eyes Faith's courage almostfailed her. The lights were so bright, the silence so awesome. Shethought she could not speak after all. But she MUST--her father MUST becleared of suspicion. Only--the words would NOT come.
Una's little pearl-pure face gleamed up at her beseechingly from themanse pew. The Blythe children were lost in amazement. Back under thegallery Faith saw the sweet graciousness of Miss Rosemary West's smileand the amusement of Miss Ellen's. But none of these helped her. It wasBertie Shakespeare Drew who saved the situation. Bertie Shakespeare satin the front seat of the gallery and he made a derisive face at Faith.Faith promptly made a dreadful one back at him, and, in her anger overbeing grimaced at by Bertie Shakespeare, forgot her stage fright. Shefound her voice and spoke out clearly and bravely.
"I want to explain something," she said, "and I want to do it nowbecause everybody will hear it that heard the other. People are sayingthat Una and I stayed home last Sunday and cleaned house instead ofgoing to Sunday School. Well, we did--but we didn't mean to. Wegot mixed up in the days of the week. It was all Elder Baxter'sfault"--sensation in Baxter's pew--"because he went and changed theprayer-meeting to Wednesday night and then we thought Thursday wasFriday and so on till we thought Saturday was Sunday. Carl was laid upsick and so was Aunt Martha, so they couldn't put us right. We went toSunday School in all that rain on Saturday and nobody came. And then wethought we'd clean house on Monday and stop old cats from talking abouthow dirty the manse was"--general sensation all over the church--"and wedid. I shook the rugs in the Methodist graveyard because it was sucha convenient place and not because I meant to be disrespectful of thedead. It isn't the dead folks who have made the fuss over this--it's theliving folks. And it isn't right for any of you to blame my father forthis, because he was away and didn't know, and anyhow we thought it wasMonday. He's just the best father that ever lived in the world and welove him with all our hearts."
Faith's bravado ebbed out in a sob. She ran down the steps and flashedout of the side door of the church. There the friendly starlit, summernight comforted her and the ache went out of her eyes and throat. Shefelt very happy. The dreadful explanation was over and everybody knewnow that her father wasn't to blame and that she and Una were not sowicked as to have cleaned house knowingly on Sunday.
Inside the church people gazed blankly at each other, but Thomas Douglasrose and walked up the aisle with a set face. HIS duty was clear; thecollection must be taken if the skies fell. Taken it was; the choir sangthe anthem, with a dismal conviction that it fell terribly flat, and Dr.Cooper gave out the concluding hymn and pronounced the benediction withconsiderably less unction than usual. The Reverend Doctor had a sense ofhumour and Faith's performance tickled him. Besides, John Meredith waswell known in Presbyterian circles.
Mr. Meredith returned home the next afternoon, but before his comingFaith contrived to scandalize Glen St. Mary again. In the reaction fromSunday evening's intensity and strain she was especially full of whatMiss Cornelia would have called "devilment" on Monday. This led her todare Walter Blythe to ride through Main Street on a pig, while she rodeanother one.
The pigs in question were two tall, lank animals, supposed to belong toBertie Shakespeare Drew's father, which had been haunting the roadsideby the manse for a couple of weeks. Walter did not want to ride a pigthrough Glen St. Mary, but whatever Faith Meredith dared him to do mustbe done. They tore down the hill and through the village, Faith bentdouble with laughter over her terrified courser, Walter crimson withshame. They tore past the minister himself, just coming home from thestation; he, being a little less dreamy and abstracted than usual--owingto having had a talk on the train with Miss Cornelia who always wakenedhim up temporarily--noticed them, and thought he really must speak toFaith about it and tell her that such conduct was not seemly. But he hadforgotten the trifling incident by the time he reached home. They passedMrs. Alec Davis, who shrieked in horror, and they passed Miss RosemaryWest who laughed and sighed. Finally, just before the pigs swooped intoBertie Shakespeare Drew's back yard, never to emerge therefrom again, sogreat had been the shock to their nerves--Faith and Walter jumped off,as Dr. and Mrs. Blythe drove swiftly by.
"So that is how you bring up your boys," said Gilbert with mockseverity.
"Perhaps I do spoil them a little," said Anne contritely, "but, oh,Gilbert, when I think of my own childhood before I came to Green GablesI haven't the heart to be very strict. How hungry for love and fun Iwas--an unloved little drudge with never a chance to play! They do havesuch good times with the manse children."
"What about the poor pigs?" asked Gilbert.
Anne tried to look sober and failed.
"Do you really think it hurt them?" she said. "I don't think anythingcould hurt those animals. They've been the plague of the neighbourhoodthis summer and the Drews WON'T shut them up. But I'll talk toWalter--if I can keep from laughing when I do it."
Miss Cornelia came up to Ingleside that evening to relieve her feelingsover Sunday night. To her surprise she found that Anne did not viewFaith's performance in quite the same light as she did.
"I thought there was something brave and pathetic in her getting upthere before that churchful of people, to confess," she said. "You couldsee she was frightened to death--yet she was bound to clear her father.I loved her for it."
"Oh, of course, the poor child meant well," sighed Miss Cornelia, "butjust the same it was a terrible thing to do, and is making more talkthan the house-cleaning on Sunday. THAT had begun to die away, and thishas started it all up again. Rosemary West is like you--she said lastnight as she left the church that it was a plucky thing for Faith to do,but it made her feel sorry for the child, too. Miss Ellen thought it alla good joke, and said she hadn't had as much fun in church for years.Of course THEY don't care--they are Episcopalians. But we Presbyteriansfeel it. And there were so many hotel people there that night and scoresof Methodists. Mrs. Leander Crawford cried
, she felt so bad. And Mrs.Alec Davis said the little hussy ought to be spanked."
"Mrs. Leander Crawford is always crying in church," said Susancontemptuously. "She cries over every affecting thing the minister says.But you do not often see her name on a subscription list, Mrs. Dr. dear.Tears come cheaper. She tried to talk to me one day about Aunt Marthabeing such a dirty housekeeper; and I wanted to say, 'Every one knowsthat YOU have been seen mixing up cakes in the kitchen wash-pan, Mrs.Leander Crawford!' But I did not say it, Mrs. Dr. dear, because I havetoo much respect for myself to condescend to argue with the likes ofher. But I could tell worse things than THAT of Mrs. Leander Crawford,if I was disposed to gossip. And as for Mrs. Alec Davis, if she had saidthat to me, Mrs. Dr. dear, do you know what I would have said? I wouldhave said, 'I have no doubt you would like to spank Faith, Mrs. Davis,but you will never have the chance to spank a minister's daughter eitherin this world or in that which is to come.'"
"If poor Faith had only been decently dressed," lamented Miss Corneliaagain, "it wouldn't have been quite that bad. But that dress lookeddreadful, as she stood there upon the platform."
"It was clean, though, Mrs. Dr. dear," said Susan. "They ARE cleanchildren. They may be very heedless and reckless, Mrs. Dr. dear, and Iam not saying they are not, but they NEVER forget to wash behind theirears."
"The idea of Faith forgetting what day was Sunday," persisted MissCornelia. "She will grow up just as careless and impractical as herfather, believe ME. I suppose Carl would have known better if he hadn'tbeen sick. I don't know what was wrong with him, but I think it verylikely he had been eating those blueberries that grew in the graveyard.No wonder they made him sick. If I was a Methodist I'd try to keep mygraveyard cleaned up at least."
"I am of the opinion that Carl only ate the sours that grow on thedyke," said Susan hopefully. "I do not think ANY minister's son wouldeat blueberries that grew on the graves of dead people. You know itwould not be so bad, Mrs. Dr. dear, to eat things that grew on thedyke."
"The worst of last night's performance was the face Faith made made atsomebody in the congregation before she started in," said Miss Cornelia."Elder Clow declares she made it at him. And DID you hear that she wasseen riding on a pig to-day?"
"I saw her. Walter was with her. I gave him a little--a VERYlittle--scolding about it. He did not say much, but he gave me theimpression that it had been his idea and that Faith was not to blame."
"I do not not believe THAT, Mrs. Dr. dear," cried Susan, up in arms."That is just Walter's way--to take the blame on himself. But you knowas well as I do, Mrs. Dr. dear, that that blessed child would never havethought of riding on a pig, even if he does write poetry."
"Oh, there's no doubt the notion was hatched in Faith Meredith's brain,"said Miss Cornelia. "And I don't say that I'm sorry that Amos Drew's oldpigs did get their come-uppance for once. But the minister's daughter!"
"AND the doctor's son!" said Anne, mimicking Miss Cornelia's tone. Thenshe laughed. "Dear Miss Cornelia, they're only little children. Andyou KNOW they've never yet done anything bad--they're just heedless andimpulsive--as I was myself once. They'll grow sedate and sober--as I'vedone."
Miss Cornelia laughed, too.
"There are times, Anne dearie, when I know by your eyes that YOURsoberness is put on like a garment and you're really aching to dosomething wild and young again. Well, I feel encouraged. Somehow, atalk with you always does have that effect on me. Now, when I go tosee Barbara Samson, it's just the opposite. She makes me feel thateverything's wrong and always will be. But of course living all yourlife with a man like Joe Samson wouldn't be exactly cheering."
"It is a very strange thing to think that she married Joe Samson afterall her chances," remarked Susan. "She was much sought after when shewas a girl. She used to boast to me that she had twenty-one beaus andMr. Pethick."
"What was Mr. Pethick?"
"Well, he was a sort of hanger-on, Mrs. Dr. dear, but you couldnot exactly call him a beau. He did not really have any intentions.Twenty-one beaus--and me that never had one! But Barbara went throughthe woods and picked up the crooked stick after all. And yet they sayher husband can make better baking powder biscuits than she can, and shealways gets him to make them when company comes to tea."
"Which reminds ME that I have company coming to tea to-morrow and I mustgo home and set my bread," said Miss Cornelia. "Mary said she could setit and no doubt she could. But while I live and move and have my being_I_ set my own bread, believe me."
"How is Mary getting on?" asked Anne.
"I've no fault to find with Mary," said Miss Cornelia rathergloomily. "She's getting some flesh on her bones and she's clean andrespectful--though there's more in her than _I_ can fathom. She's a slypuss. If you dug for a thousand years you couldn't get to the bottom ofthat child's mind, believe ME! As for work, I never saw anything likeher. She EATS it up. Mrs. Wiley may have been cruel to her, but folksneedn't say she made Mary work. Mary's a born worker. Sometimes I wonderwhich will wear out first--her legs or her tongue. I don't have enoughto do to keep me out of mischief these days. I'll be real glad whenschool opens, for then I'll have something to do again. Mary doesn'twant to go to school, but I put my foot down and said that go she must.I shall NOT have the Methodists saying that I kept her out of schoolwhile I lolled in idleness."