CHAPTER XX. FAITH MAKES A FRIEND
Next day in school was a hard one for Faith. Mary Vance had told thetale of Adam, and all the scholars, except the Blythes, thought it quitea joke. The girls told Faith, between giggles, that it was too bad, andthe boys wrote sardonic notes of condolence to her. Poor Faith went homefrom school feeling her very soul raw and smarting within her.
"I'm going over to Ingleside to have a talk with Mrs. Blythe," shesobbed. "SHE won't laugh at me, as everybody else does. I've just GOT totalk to somebody who understands how bad I feel."
She ran down through Rainbow Valley. Enchantment had been at workthe night before. A light snow had fallen and the powdered firs weredreaming of a spring to come and a joy to be. The long hill beyond wasrichly purple with leafless beeches. The rosy light of sunset lay overthe world like a pink kiss. Of all the airy, fairy places, full ofweird, elfin grace, Rainbow Valley that winter evening was themost beautiful. But all its dreamlike loveliness was lost on poor,sore-hearted little Faith.
By the brook she came suddenly upon Rosemary West, who was sitting onthe old pine tree. She was on her way home from Ingleside, where shehad been giving the girls their music lesson. She had been lingering inRainbow Valley quite a little time, looking across its white beauty androaming some by-ways of dream. Judging from the expression of her face,her thoughts were pleasant ones. Perhaps the faint, occasional tinklefrom the bells on the Tree Lovers brought the little lurking smile toher lips. Or perhaps it was occasioned by the consciousness that JohnMeredith seldom failed to spend Monday evening in the gray house on thewhite wind-swept hill.
Into Rosemary's dreams burst Faith Meredith full of rebelliousbitterness. Faith stopped abruptly when she saw Miss West. She did notknow her very well--just well enough to speak to when they met. And shedid not want to see any one just then--except Mrs. Blythe. She knew hereyes and nose were red and swollen and she hated to have a stranger knowshe had been crying.
"Good evening, Miss West," she said uncomfortably.
"What is the matter, Faith?" asked Rosemary gently.
"Nothing," said Faith rather shortly.
"Oh!" Rosemary smiled. "You mean nothing that you can tell to outsiders,don't you?"
Faith looked at Miss West with sudden interest. Here was a person whounderstood things. And how pretty she was! How golden her hair was underher plumy hat! How pink her cheeks were over her velvet coat! How blueand companionable her eyes were! Faith felt that Miss West could be alovely friend--if only she were a friend instead of a stranger!
"I--I'm going up to tell Mrs. Blythe," said Faith. "She alwaysunderstands--she never laughs at us. I always talk things over with her.It helps."
"Dear girlie, I'm sorry to have to tell you that Mrs. Blythe isn'thome," said Miss West, sympathetically. "She went to Avonlea to-day andisn't coming back till the last of the week."
Faith's lip quivered.
"Then I might as well go home again," she said miserably.
"I suppose so--unless you think you could bring yourself to talk it overwith me instead," said Miss Rosemary gently. "It IS such a help to talkthings over. _I_ know. I don't suppose I can be as good at understandingas Mrs. Blythe--but I promise you that I won't laugh."
"You wouldn't laugh outside," hesitated Faith. "But you might--inside."
"No, I wouldn't laugh inside, either. Why should I? Something has hurtyou--it never amuses me to see anybody hurt, no matter what hurts them.If you feel that you'd like to tell me what has hurt you I'll be glad tolisten. But if you think you'd rather not--that's all right, too, dear."
Faith took another long, earnest look into Miss West's eyes. They werevery serious--there was no laughter in them, not even far, far back.With a little sigh she sat down on the old pine beside her new friendand told her all about Adam and his cruel fate.
Rosemary did not laugh or feel like laughing. She understood andsympathized--really, she was almost as good as Mrs. Blythe--yes, quiteas good.
"Mr. Perry is a minister, but he should have been a BUTCHER," said Faithbitterly. "He is so fond of carving things up. He ENJOYED cuttingpoor Adam to pieces. He just sliced into him as if he were any commonrooster."
"Between you and me, Faith, _I_ don't like Mr. Perry very well myself,"said Rosemary, laughing a little--but at Mr. Perry, not at Adam, asFaith clearly understood. "I never did like him. I went to school withhim--he was a Glen boy, you know--and he was a most detestable littleprig even then. Oh, how we girls used to hate holding his fat, clammyhands in the ring-around games. But we must remember, dear, that hedidn't know that Adam had been a pet of yours. He thought he WAS just acommon rooster. We must be just, even when we are terribly hurt."
"I suppose so," admitted Faith. "But why does everybody seem to think itfunny that I should have loved Adam so much, Miss West? If it had been ahorrid old cat nobody would have thought it queer. When Lottie Warren'skitten had its legs cut off by the binder everybody was sorry for her.She cried two days in school and nobody laughed at her, not even DanReese. And all her chums went to the kitten's funeral and helped herbury it--only they couldn't bury its poor little paws with it, becausethey couldn't find them. It was a horrid thing to have happen, ofcourse, but I don't think it was as dreadful as seeing your pet EATENUP. Yet everybody laughs at ME."
"I think it is because the name 'rooster' seems rather a funny one,"said Rosemary gravely. "There IS something in it that is comical. Now,'chicken' is different. It doesn't sound so funny to talk of loving achicken."
"Adam was the dearest little chicken, Miss West. He was just a littlegolden ball. He would run up to me and peck out of my hand. And he washandsome when he grew up, too--white as snow, with such a beautifulcurving white tail, though Mary Vance said it was too short. He knewhis name and always came when I called him--he was a very intelligentrooster. And Aunt Martha had no right to kill him. He was mine. Itwasn't fair, was it, Miss West?"
"No, it wasn't," said Rosemary decidedly. "Not a bit fair. I rememberI had a pet hen when I was a little girl. She was such a pretty littlething--all golden brown and speckly. I loved her as much as I ever lovedany pet. She was never killed--she died of old age. Mother wouldn't haveher killed because she was my pet."
"If MY mother had been living she wouldn't have let Adam be killed,"said Faith. "For that matter, father wouldn't have either, if he'd beenhome and known of it. I'm SURE he wouldn't, Miss West."
"I'm sure, too," said Rosemary. There was a little added flush on herface. She looked rather conscious but Faith noticed nothing.
"Was it VERY wicked of me not to tell Mr. Perry his coat-tails werescorching?" she asked anxiously.
"Oh, terribly wicked," answered Rosemary, with dancing eyes. "But _I_would have been just as naughty, Faith--_I_ wouldn't have told him theywere scorching--and I don't believe I would ever have been a bit sorryfor my wickedness, either."
"Una thought I should have told him because he was a minister."
"Dearest, if a minister doesn't behave as a gentleman we are not boundto respect his coat-tails. I know _I_ would just have loved to see JimmyPerry's coat-tails burning up. It must have been fun."
Both laughed; but Faith ended with a bitter little sigh.
"Well, anyway, Adam is dead and I am NEVER going to love anythingagain."
"Don't say that, dear. We miss so much out of life if we don't love. Themore we love the richer life is--even if it is only some little furry orfeathery pet. Would you like a canary, Faith--a little golden bit of acanary? If you would I'll give you one. We have two up home."
"Oh, I WOULD like that," cried Faith. "I love birds. Only--would AuntMartha's cat eat it? It's so TRAGIC to have your pets eaten. I don'tthink I could endure it a second time."
"If you hang the cage far enough from the wall I don't think the catcould harm it. I'll tell you just how to take care of it and I'll bringit to Ingleside for you the next time I come down."
To herself, Rosemary was thinking,
"It will give every gossip in the Glen so
mething to talk of, but I WILLnot care. I want to comfort this poor little heart."
Faith was comforted. Sympathy and understanding were very sweet. She andMiss Rosemary sat on the old pine until the twilight crept softly downover the white valley and the evening star shone over the gray maplegrove. Faith told Rosemary all her small history and hopes, her likesand dislikes, the ins and outs of life at the manse, the ups and downsof school society. Finally they parted firm friends.
Mr. Meredith was, as usual, lost in dreams when supper began thatevening, but presently a name pierced his abstraction and brought himback to reality. Faith was telling Una of her meeting with Rosemary.
"She is just lovely, I think," said Faith. "Just as nice as Mrs.Blythe--but different. I felt as if I wanted to hug her. She did hugME--such a nice, velvety hug. And she called me 'dearest.' It THRILLEDme. I could tell her ANYTHING."
"So you liked Miss West, Faith?" Mr. Meredith asked, with a rather oddintonation.
"I love her," cried Faith.
"Ah!" said Mr. Meredith. "Ah!"