We were all waiting in the
orchard for the Story Girl who had not begun to dress for church
until Cecily and Felicity were ready. Felicity was her prettiest
in flower-trimmed hat, crisp muslin, floating ribbons and trim
black slippers. Poor Cecily stood beside her mute and pale, in
her faded school garb and heavy copper-toed boots. But her face,
if pale, was very determined. Cecily, having put her hand to the
plough, was not of those who turn back.
"You do look just awful," said Felicity. "I don't care--I'm going
to sit in Uncle James' pew. I WON'T sit with you. There will be
so many strangers there, and all the Markdale people, and what
will they think of you? Some of them will never know the reason,
either."
"I wish the Story Girl would hurry," was all poor Cecily said.
"We're going to be late. It wouldn't have been quite so hard if I
could have got there before anyone and slipped quietly into our
pew."
"Here she comes at last," said Dan. "Why--what's she got on?"
The Story Girl joined us with a quizzical smile on her face. Dan
whistled. Cecily's pale cheeks flushed with understanding and
gratitude. The Story Girl wore her school print dress and hat
also, and was gloveless and heavy shod.
"You're not going to have to go through this all alone, Cecily,"
she said.
Pages:
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252