CHAPTER XXIII. THE GOOD-CONDUCT CLUB
A light rain had been falling all day--a little, delicate, beautifulspring rain, that somehow seemed to hint and whisper of mayflowersand wakening violets. The harbour and the gulf and the low-lying shorefields had been dim with pearl-gray mists. But now in the evening therain had ceased and the mists had blown out to sea. Clouds sprinkled thesky over the harbour like little fiery roses. Beyond it the hills weredark against a spendthrift splendour of daffodil and crimson. A greatsilvery evening star was watching over the bar. A brisk, dancing,new-sprung wind was blowing up from Rainbow Valley, resinous with theodours of fir and damp mosses. It crooned in the old spruces aroundthe graveyard and ruffled Faith's splendid curls as she sat on HezekiahPollock's tombstone with her arms round Mary Vance and Una. Carl andJerry were sitting opposite them on another tombstone and all wererather full of mischief after being cooped up all day.
"The air just SHINES to-night, doesn't it? It's been washed so clean,you see," said Faith happily.
Mary Vance eyed her gloomily. Knowing what she knew, or fancied sheknew, Mary considered that Faith was far too light-hearted. Mary hadsomething on her mind to say and she meant to say it before she wenthome. Mrs. Elliott had sent her up to the manse with some new-laid eggs,and had told her not to stay longer than half an hour. The half hourwas nearly up, so Mary uncurled her cramped legs from under her and saidabruptly,
"Never mind about the air. Just you listen to me. You manse young oneshave just got to behave yourselves better than you've been doing thisspring--that's all there is to it. I just come up to-night a-purpose totell you so. The way people are talking about you is awful."
"What have we been doing now?" cried Faith in amazement, pulling her armaway from Mary. Una's lips trembled and her sensitive little soul shrankwithin her. Mary was always so brutally frank. Jerry began to whistleout of bravado. He meant to let Mary see he didn't care for HER tirades.Their behaviour was no business of HERS anyway. What right had SHE tolecture them on their conduct?
"Doing now! You're doing ALL the time," retorted Mary. "Just as soonas the talk about one of your didos fades away you do something elseto start it up again. It seems to me you haven't any idea of how mansechildren ought to behave!"
"Maybe YOU can tell us," said Jerry, killingly sarcastic.
Sarcasm was quite thrown away on Mary.
"_I_ can tell you what will happen if you don't learn to behaveyourselves. The session will ask your father to resign. There now,Master Jerry-know-it-all. Mrs. Alec Davis said so to Mrs. Elliott. Iheard her. I always have my ears pricked up when Mrs. Alec Davis comesto tea. She said you were all going from bad to worse and that thoughit was only what was to be expected when you had nobody to bring youup, still the congregation couldn't be expected to put up with it muchlonger, and something would have to be done. The Methodists just laughand laugh at you, and that hurts the Presbyterian feelings. SHE says youall need a good dose of birch tonic. Lor', if that would make folks good_I_ oughter be a young saint. I'm not telling you this because I wantto hurt YOUR feelings. I'm sorry for you"--Mary was past mistress ofthe gentle art of condescension. "_I_ understand that you haven'tmuch chance, the way things are. But other people don't make as muchallowance as _I_ do. Miss Drew says Carl had a frog in his pocket inSunday School last Sunday and it hopped out while she was hearing thelesson. She says she's going to give up the class. Why don't you keepyour insecks home?"
"I popped it right back in again," said Carl. "It didn't hurt anybody--apoor little frog! And I wish old Jane Drew WOULD give up our class. Ihate her. Her own nephew had a dirty plug of tobacco in his pocket andoffered us fellows a chew when Elder Clow was praying. I guess that'sworse than a frog."
"No, 'cause frogs are more unexpected-like. They make more of asensation. 'Sides, he wasn't caught at it. And then that prayingcompetition you had last week has made a fearful scandal. Everybody istalking about it."
"Why, the Blythes were in that as well as us," cried Faith, indignantly."It was Nan Blythe who suggested it in the first place. And Walter tookthe prize."
"Well, you get the credit of it any way. It wouldn't have been so bad ifyou hadn't had it in the graveyard."
"I should think a graveyard was a very good place to pray in," retortedJerry.
"Deacon Hazard drove past when YOU were praying," said Mary, "and he sawand heard you, with your hands folded over your stomach, and groaningafter every sentence. He thought you were making fun of HIM."
"So I was," declared unabashed Jerry. "Only I didn't know he was goingby, of course. That was just a mean accident. _I_ wasn't praying inreal earnest--I knew I had no chance of winning the prize. So I was justgetting what fun I could out of it. Walter Blythe can pray bully. Why,he can pray as well as dad."
"Una is the only one of US who really likes praying," said Faithpensively.
"Well, if praying scandalizes people so much we mustn't do it any more,"sighed Una.
"Shucks, you can pray all you want to, only not in the graveyard--anddon't make a game of it. That was what made it so bad--that, and havinga tea-party on the tombstones."
"We hadn't."
"Well, a soap-bubble party then. You had SOMETHING. The over-harbourpeople swear you had a tea-party, but I'm willing to take your word. Andyou used this tombstone as a table."
"Well, Martha wouldn't let us blow bubbles in the house. She was awfulcross that day," explained Jerry. "And this old slab made such a jollytable."
"Weren't they pretty?" cried Faith, her eyes sparkling over theremembrance. "They reflected the trees and the hills and the harbourlike little fairy worlds, and when we shook them loose they floated awaydown to Rainbow Valley."
"All but one and it went over and bust up on the Methodist spire," saidCarl.
"I'm glad we did it once, anyhow, before we found out it was wrong,"said Faith.
"It wouldn't have been wrong to blow them on the lawn," said Maryimpatiently. "Seems like I can't knock any sense into your heads.You've been told often enough you shouldn't play in the graveyard. TheMethodists are sensitive about it."
"We forget," said Faith dolefully. "And the lawn is so small--and socaterpillary--and so full of shrubs and things. We can't be in RainbowValley all the time--and where are we to go?"
"It's the things you DO in the graveyard. It wouldn't matter if you justsat here and talked quiet, same as we're doing now. Well, I don't knowwhat is going to come of it all, but I DO know that Elder Warren isgoing to speak to your pa about it. Deacon Hazard is his cousin."
"I wish they wouldn't bother father about us," said Una.
"Well, people think he ought to bother himself about you a little more._I_ don't--_I_ understand him. He's a child in some ways himself--that'swhat he is, and needs some one to look after him as bad as you do. Well,perhaps he'll have some one before long, if all tales is true."
"What do you mean?" asked Faith.
"Haven't you got any idea--honest?" demanded Mary.
"No, no. What DO you mean?"
"Well, you are a lot of innocents, upon my word. Why, EVERYbody istalking of it. Your pa goes to see Rosemary West. SHE is going to beyour step-ma."
"I don't believe it," cried Una, flushing crimson.
"Well, _I_ dunno. I just go by what folks say. _I_ don't give it fora fact. But it would be a good thing. Rosemary West'd make you toethe mark if she came here, I'll bet a cent, for all she's so sweet andsmiley on the face of her. They're always that way till they've caughtthem. But you need some one to bring you up. You're disgracing your paand I feel for him. I've always thought an awful lot of your pa eversince that night he talked to me so nice. I've never said a singleswear word since, or told a lie. And I'd like to see him happy andcomfortable, with his buttons on and his meals decent, and you youngones licked into shape, and that old cat of a Martha put in HER properplace. The way she looked at the eggs I brought her to-night. 'I hopethey're fresh,' says she. I just wished they WAS rotten. But you justmind that she gives you all one fo
r breakfast, including your pa. Makea fuss if she doesn't. That was what they was sent up for--but I don'ttrust old Martha. She's quite capable of feeding 'em to her cat."
Mary's tongue being temporarily tired, a brief silence fell over thegraveyard. The manse children did not feel like talking. They weredigesting the new and not altogether palatable ideas Mary had suggestedto them. Jerry and Carl were somewhat startled. But, after all, what didit matter? And it wasn't likely there was a word of truth in it. Faith,on the whole, was pleased. Only Una was seriously upset. She felt thatshe would like to get away and cry.
"Will there be any stars in my crown?" sang the Methodist choir,beginning to practise in the Methodist church.
"_I_ want just three," said Mary, whose theological knowledge hadincreased notably since her residence with Mrs. Elliott. "Justthree--setting up on my head, like a corownet, a big one in the middleand a small one each side."
"Are there different sizes in souls?" asked Carl.
"Of course. Why, little babies must have smaller ones than big men.Well, it's getting dark and I must scoot home. Mrs. Elliott doesn't likeme to be out after dark. Laws, when I lived with Mrs. Wiley the dark wasjust the same as the daylight to me. I didn't mind it no more'n a graycat. Them days seem a hundred years ago. Now, you mind what I've saidand try to behave yourselves, for you pa's sake. I'LL always back youup and defend you--you can be dead sure of that. Mrs. Elliott says shenever saw the like of me for sticking up for my friends. I was realsassy to Mrs. Alec Davis about you and Mrs. Elliott combed me down forit afterwards. The fair Cornelia has a tongue of her own and no mistake.But she was pleased underneath for all, 'cause she hates old Kitty Alecand she's real fond of you. _I_ can see through folks."
Mary sailed off, excellently well pleased with herself, leaving a ratherdepressed little group behind her.
"Mary Vance always says something that makes us feel bad when she comesup," said Una resentfully.
"I wish we'd left her to starve in the old barn," said Jerryvindictively.
"Oh, that's wicked, Jerry," rebuked Una.
"May as well have the game as the name," retorted unrepentant Jerry. "Ifpeople say we're so bad let's BE bad."
"But not if it hurts father," pleaded Faith.
Jerry squirmed uncomfortably. He adored his father. Through the unshadedstudy window they could see Mr. Meredith at his desk. He did not seemto be either reading or writing. His head was in his hands and there wassomething in his whole attitude that spoke of weariness and dejection.The children suddenly felt it.
"I dare say somebody's been worrying him about us to-day," said Faith."I wish we COULD get along without making people talk. Oh--Jem Blythe!How you scared me!"
Jem Blythe had slipped into the graveyard and sat down beside the girls.He had been prowling about Rainbow Valley and had succeeded in findingthe first little star-white cluster of arbutus for his mother. The mansechildren were rather silent after his coming. Jem was beginning to growaway from them somewhat this spring. He was studying for the entranceexamination of Queen's Academy and stayed after school with the olderpupils for extra lessons. Also, his evenings were so full of work thathe seldom joined the others in Rainbow Valley now. He seemed to bedrifting away into grown-up land.
"What is the matter with you all to-night?" he asked. "There's no fun inyou."
"Not much," agreed Faith dolefully. "There wouldn't be much fun in youeither if YOU knew you were disgracing your father and making peopletalk about you."
"Who's been talking about you now?"
"Everybody--so Mary Vance says." And Faith poured out her troubles tosympathetic Jem. "You see," she concluded dolefully, "we've nobody tobring us up. And so we get into scrapes and people think we're bad."
"Why don't you bring yourselves up?" suggested Jem. "I'll tell you whatto do. Form a Good-Conduct Club and punish yourselves every time you doanything that's not right."
"That's a good idea," said Faith, struck by it. "But," she addeddoubtfully, "things that don't seem a bit of harm to US seem simplydreadful to other people. How can we tell? We can't be bothering fatherall the time--and he has to be away a lot, anyhow."
"You could mostly tell if you stopped to think a thing over before doingit and ask yourselves what the congregation would say about it," saidJem. "The trouble is you just rush into things and don't think them overat all. Mother says you're all too impulsive, just as she used to be.The Good-Conduct Club would help you to think, if you were fair andhonest about punishing yourselves when you broke the rules. You'd haveto punish in some way that really HURT, or it wouldn't do any good."
"Whip each other?"
"Not exactly. You'd have to think up different ways of punishmentto suit the person. You wouldn't punish each other--you'd punishYOURSELVES. I read all about such a club in a story-book. You try it andsee how it works."
"Let's," said Faith; and when Jem was gone they agreed they would. "Ifthings aren't right we've just got to make them right," said Faith,resolutely.
"We've got to be fair and square, as Jem says," said Jerry. "This is aclub to bring ourselves up, seeing there's nobody else to do it. There'sno use in having many rules. Let's just have one and any of us thatbreaks it has got to be punished hard."
"But HOW."
"We'll think that up as we go along. We'll hold a session of the clubhere in the graveyard every night and talk over what we've done throughthe day, and if we think we've done anything that isn't right or thatwould disgrace dad the one that does it, or is responsible for it,must be punished. That's the rule. We'll all decide on the kind ofpunishment--it must be made to fit the crime, as Mr. Flagg says. Andthe one that's, guilty will be bound to carry it out and no shirking.There's going to be fun in this," concluded Jerry, with a relish.
"You suggested the soap-bubble party," said Faith.
"But that was before we'd formed the club," said Jerry hastily."Everything starts from to-night."
"But what if we can't agree on what's right, or what the punishmentought to be? S'pose two of us thought of one thing and two another.There ought to be five in a club like this."
"We can ask Jem Blythe to be umpire. He is the squarest boy in Glen St.Mary. But I guess we can settle our own affairs mostly. We want to keepthis as much of a secret as we can. Don't breathe a word to Mary Vance.She'd want to join and do the bringing up."
"_I_ think," said Faith, "that there's no use in spoiling every day bydragging punishments in. Let's have a punishment day."
"We'd better choose Saturday because there is no school to interfere,"suggested Una.
"And spoil the one holiday in the week," cried Faith. "Not much! No,let's take Friday. That's fish day, anyhow, and we all hate fish. We mayas well have all the disagreeable things in one day. Then other days wecan go ahead and have a good time."
"Nonsense," said Jerry authoritatively. "Such a scheme wouldn't work atall. We'll just punish ourselves as we go along and keep a clear slate.Now, we all understand, don't we? This is a Good-Conduct Club, for thepurpose of bringing ourselves up. We agree to punish ourselves for badconduct, and always to stop before we do anything, no matter what, andask ourselves if it is likely to hurt dad in any way, and any one whoshirks is to be cast out of the club and never allowed to play with therest of us in Rainbow Valley again. Jem Blythe to be umpire in caseof disputes. No more taking bugs to Sunday School, Carl, and no morechewing gum in public, if you please, Miss Faith."
"No more making fun of elders praying or going to the Methodist prayermeeting," retorted Faith.
"Why, it isn't any harm to go to the Methodist prayer meeting,"protested Jerry in amazement.
"Mrs. Elliott says it is, She says manse children have no business to goanywhere but to Presbyterian things."
"Darn it, I won't give up going to the Methodist prayer meeting," criedJerry. "It's ten times more fun than ours is."
"You said a naughty word," cried Faith. "NOW, you've got to punishyourself."
"Not till it's all down in black and white. We'
re only talking the clubover. It isn't really formed until we've written it out and signedit. There's got to be a constitution and by-laws. And you KNOW there'snothing wrong in going to a prayer meeting."
"But it's not only the wrong things we're to punish ourselves for, butanything that might hurt father."
"It won't hurt anybody. You know Mrs. Elliott is cracked on the subjectof Methodists. Nobody else makes any fuss about my going. I alwaysbehave myself. You ask Jem or Mrs. Blythe and see what they say. I'llabide by their opinion. I'm going for the paper now and I'll bring outthe lantern and we'll all sign."
Fifteen minutes later the document was solemnly signed on HezekiahPollock's tombstone, on the centre of which stood the smoky manselantern, while the children knelt around it. Mrs. Elder Clow was goingpast at the moment and next day all the Glen heard that the mansechildren had been having another praying competition and had wound it upby chasing each other all over the graves with a lantern. This piece ofembroidery was probably suggested by the fact that, after the signingand sealing was completed, Carl had taken the lantern and had walkedcircumspectly to the little hollow to examine his ant-hill. The othershad gone quietly into the manse and to bed.
"Do you think it is true that father is going to marry Miss West?" Unahad tremulously asked of Faith, after their prayers had been said.
"I don't know, but I'd like it," said Faith.
"Oh, I wouldn't," said Una, chokingly. "She is nice the way she is. ButMary Vance says it changes people ALTOGETHER to be made stepmothers.They get horrid cross and mean and hateful then, and turn your fatheragainst you. She says they're sure to do that. She never knew it to failin a single case."
"I don't believe Miss West would EVER try to do that," cried Faith.
"Mary says ANYBODY would. She knows ALL about stepmothers, Faith--shesays she's seen hundreds of them--and you've never seen one. Oh, Maryhas told me blood-curdling things about them. She says she knew of onewho whipped her husband's little girls on their bare shoulders till theybled, and then shut them up in a cold, dark coal cellar all night. Shesays they're ALL aching to do things like that."
"I don't believe Miss West would. You don't know her as well as I do,Una. Just think of that sweet little bird she sent me. I love it farmore even than Adam."
"It's just being a stepmother changes them. Mary says they can't helpit. I wouldn't mind the whippings so much as having father hate us."
"You know nothing could make father hate us. Don't be silly, Una. I daresay there's nothing to worry over. Likely if we run our club right andbring ourselves up properly father won't think of marrying any one. Andif he does, I KNOW Miss West will be lovely to us."
But Una had no such conviction and she cried herself to sleep.