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CHaPTeR XiX
PooR aDaM!
WHEN Una got home Faith was lying face downwards
on her bed, utterly refusing to be comforted. Aunt Martha
had killed Adam. He was reposing on a platter in the pantry
that very minute, trussed and dressed, encircled by his liver
and heart and gizzard. Aunt Martha heeded Faith’s passion
of grief and anger not a whit.
“We had to have something for the strange minister’s
dinner,” she said. “You’re too big a girl to make such a
fuss over an old rooster. You knew he’d have to be killed
sometime.”
“I’ll tell father when he comes home what you’ve done,”
sobbed Faith.
“Don’t you go bothering your poor father. He has troubles
enough. And I’m housekeeper here.”
“Adam was mine—Mrs. Johnson gave him to me. You had
no business to touch him,” stormed Faith.
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“Don’t you get sassy now. e rooster’s killed and there’s
an end of it. I ain’t going to set no strange minister down to
a dinner of cold b’iled mutton. I was brought up to know
better than that, if I have come down in the world.”
Faith would not go down to supper that night and she
would not go to church the next morning. But at dinner
time she went to the table, her eyes swollen with crying, her
face sullen.
e Rev. James Perry was a sleek, rubicund man, with
a bristling white moustache, bushy white eyebrows, and
a shining bald head. He was certainly not handsome and
he was a very tiresome, pompous sort of person. But if he
had looked like the Archangel Michael and talked with the
tongues of men and angels Faith would still have utterly
detested him. He carved Adam up dexterously, showing off
his plump white hands and very handsome diamond ring.
Also, he made jovial remarks all through the performance.
Jerry and Carl giggled, and even Una smiled wanly, because
she thought politeness demanded it. But Faith only scowled
darkly. e Rev. James thought her manners shockingly bad.
Once, when he was delivering himself of an unctuous remark
to Jerry, Faith broke in rudely with a flat contradiction. e
Rev. James drew his bushy eyebrows together at her.
“Little girls should not interrupt,” he said, “and they
should not contradict people who know far more than they
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do.”
is put Faith in a worse temper than ever. To be called
“little girl” as if she were no bigger than chubby Rilla
Blythe over at Ingleside! It was insufferable. And how that
abominable Mr. Perry did eat! He even picked poor Adam’s
bones. Neither Faith nor Una would touch a mouthful,
and looked upon the boys as little better than cannibals.
Faith felt that if that awful repast did not soon come to an
end she would wind it up by throwing something at Mr.
Perry’s gleaming head. Fortunately, Mr. Perry found Aunt
Martha’s leathery apple pie too much even for his powers of
mastication and the meal came to an end, after a long grace
in which Mr. Perry offered up devout thanks for the food
which a kind and beneficent Providence had provided for
sustenance and temperate pleasure.
“God hadn’t a single thing to do with providing Adam for
you,” muttered Faith rebelliously under her breath.
e boys gladly made their escape to outdoors, Una went
to help Aunt Martha with the dishes—though that rather
grumpy old dame never welcomed her timid assistance—
and Faith betook herself to the study where a cheerful wood
fire was burning in the grate. She thought she would thereby
escape from the hated Mr. Perry, who had announced his
intention of taking a nap in his room during the afternoon.
But scarcely had Faith settled herself in a corner, with a book,
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when he walked in and, standing before the fire, proceeded
to survey the disorderly study with an air of disapproval.
“You father’s books seem to be in somewhat deplorable
confusion, my little girl,” he said severely.
Faith darkled in her corner and said not a word. She would
not talk to this—this creature.
“You should try to put them in order,” Mr. Perry went
on, playing with his handsome watch chain and smiling
patronizingly on Faith. “You are quite old enough to attend
to such duties. My little daughter at home is only ten and
she is already an excellent little housekeeper and the greatest
help and comfort to her mother. She is a very sweet child.
I wish you had the privilege of her acquaintance. She could
help you in many ways. Of course, you have not had the
inestimable privilege of a good mother’s care and training.
A sad lack—a very sad lack. I have spoken more than once
to your father in this connection and pointed out his duty
to him faithfully, but so far with no effect. I trust he may
awaken to a realization of his responsibility before it is
too late. In the meantime, it is your duty and privilege to
endeavour to take your sainted mother’s place. You might
exercise a great influence over your brothers and your little
sister—you might be a true mother to them. I fear that you
do not think of these things as you should. My dear child,
allow me to open your eyes in regard to them.”
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Mr. Perry’s oily, complacent voice trickled on. He was in
his element. Nothing suited him better than to lay down the
law, patronize and exhort. He had no idea of stopping, and he
did not stop. He stood before the fire, his feet planted firmly
on the rug, and poured out a flood of pompous platitudes.
Faith heard not a word. She was really not listening to him
at all. But she was watching his long black coat-tails with
impish delight growing in her brown eyes. Mr. Perry was
standing very near the fire. His coat-tails began to scorch—
his coat-tails began to smoke. He still prosed on, wrapped
up in his own eloquence. e coat-tails smoked worse. A
tiny spark flew up from the burning wood and alighted in
the middle of one. It clung and caught and spread into a
smouldering flame. Faith could restrain herself no longer
and broke into a stifled giggle.
Mr. Perry stopped short, angered over this impertinence.
Suddenly he became conscious that a reek of burning cloth
filled the room. He whirled round and saw nothing. en he
clapped his hands to his coat-tails and brought them around
in front of him. ere was already quite a hole in one of
them—and this was his new suit. Faith shook with helpless
laughter over his pose and expression.
“Did you see my coat-tails burning?” he demanded
angrily.
“Yes, sir,” said Faith demurely.
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“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded, glaring at her.
“You said it wasn’t good manners to interrupt, sir,” said
Faith, more demurely still.
“If—if I was your father, I would give you a spanking that
you would remember all your life, Miss,” said a very angry
reverend gentleman, as he stalked out of the study. e coat
of Mr. Meredith’s second best suit would not fit Mr. Perry, so
he had to go to the evening service with his singed coat-tail.
But he did not walk up the aisle with his usual consciousness
of the honour he was conferring on the building. He never
would agree to an exchange of pulpits with Mr. Meredith
again, and he was barely civil to the latter when they met for
a few minutes at the station the next morning. But Faith felt
a certain gloomy satisfaction. Adam was partially avenged.
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CHaPTeR XX
FaiTH MaKeS a FRienD
NEXT day in school was a hard one for Faith. Mary
Vance had told the tale of Adam, and all the scholars, except
the Blythes, thought it quite a joke. e girls told Faith,
between giggles, that it was too bad, and the boys wrote
sardonic notes of condolence to her. Poor Faith went home
from school feeling her very soul raw and smarting within
her.
“I’m going over to Ingleside to have a talk with Mrs.
Blythe,” she sobbed. “She won’t laugh at me, as everybody
else does. I’ve just got to talk to somebody who understands
how bad I feel.”
She ran down through Rainbow Valley. Enchantment had
been at work the night before. A light snow had fallen and
the powdered firs were dreaming of a spring to come and
a joy to be. e long hill beyond was richly purple with
leafless beeches. e rosy light of sunset lay over the world
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like a pink kiss. Of all the airy, fairy places, full of weird,
elfin grace, Rainbow Valley that winter evening was the most
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 on the old pine tree. She was on her way
home from Ingleside, where she had been giving the girls
their music lesson. She had been lingering in Rainbow
Valley quite a little time, looking across its white beauty and
roaming some by-ways of dream. Judging from the expression
of her face, her thoughts were pleasant ones. Perhaps the
faint, occasional tinkle from the bells on the Tree Lovers
brought the little lurking smile to her lips. Or perhaps it was
occasioned by the consciousness that John Meredith seldom
failed to spend Monday evening in the gray house on the
white wind-swept hill.
Into Rosemary’s dreams burst Faith Meredith full of
rebellious bitterness. Faith stopped abruptly when she saw
Miss West. She did not know her very well—just well enough
to speak to when they met. And she did not want to see any
one just then—except Mrs. Blythe. She knew her eyes and
nose were red and swollen and she hated to have a stranger
know she had been crying.
“Good evening, Miss West,” she said uncomfortably.
“What is the matter, Faith?” asked Rosemary gently.
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“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 who understood things. And how pretty she
was! How golden her hair was under her plumy hat! How
pink her cheeks were over her velvet coat! How blue and
companionable her eyes were! Faith felt that Miss West
could be a lovely friend—if only she were a friend instead
of a stranger!
“I—I’m going up to tell Mrs. Blythe,” said Faith. “She
always understands—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’t home,” said Miss West, sympathetically. “She went to
Avonlea to-day and isn’t coming back till the last of the
week.”
Faith’s lip quivered.
“en I might as well go home again,” she said
miserably.
“I suppose so—unless you think you could bring yourself
to talk it over with me instead,” said Miss Rosemary gently.
“It is such a help to talk things over. I know. I don’t suppose
I can be as good at understanding as Mrs. Blythe—but I
promise you that I won’t laugh.”
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“You wouldn’t laugh outside,” hesitated Faith. “But you
might—inside.”
“No, I wouldn’t laugh inside, either. Why should I?
Something has hurt you—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 to listen. 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. ey were very 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 friend and told her all about Adam
and his cruel fate.
Rosemary did not laugh or feel like laughing. She
understood and sympathized—really, she was almost as
good as Mrs. Blythe—yes, quite as good.
“Mr. Perry is a minister, but he should have been a
butcher,” said Faith bitterly. “He is so fond of carving things
up. He enjoyed cutting poor Adam to pieces. He just sliced
into him as if he were any common rooster.”
“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, as Faith clearly understood. “I never did
like him. I went to school with him—he was a Glen boy,
you know—and he was a most detestable little prig even
then. Oh, how we girls used to hate holding his fat, clammy
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