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Rainbow Valley
a match or not.”
“He jilted her once—but it seems that does not count
with some people, Mrs. Dr. dear,” Susan remarked rather
acidly.
“He jilted her in a fit of temper and repented it all his
life,” said Miss Cornelia. “at is different from a cold-
blooded jilting. For my part, I never detested Norman as
some folks do. He could never over-crow me. I do wonder
what started him coming to church. I have never been able
to believe Mrs. Wilson’s story that Faith Meredith went
there and bullied him into it. I’ve always intended to ask
Faith herself, but I’ve never happened to think of it just
when I saw her. What influence could she have over Norman
Douglas? He was in the store when I left, bellowing with
laughter over that scandalous letter. You could have heard
him at Four Winds Point. ‘e greatest girl in the world,’ he
was shouting. ‘She’s that full of spunk she’s bursting with it.
And all the old grannies want to tame her, darn them. But
they’ll never be able to do it—never! ey might as well try
to drown a fish. Boyd, see that you put more fertilizer on
your potatoes next year. Ho, ho, ho!’ And then he laughed
till the roof shook.”
“Mr. Douglas pays well to the salary, at least,” remarked
Susan.
“Oh, Norman isn’t mean in some ways. He’d give a
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thousand without blinking a lash, and roar like a Bull of
Bashan if he had to pay five cents too much for anything.
Besides, he likes Mr. Meredith’s sermons, and Norman
Douglas was always willing to shell out if he got his brains
tickled up. ere is no more Christianity about him than
there is about a black, naked heathen in Africa and never will
be. But he’s clever and well read and he judges sermons as he
would lectures. Anyhow, it’s well he backs up Mr. Meredith
and the children as he does, for they’ll need friends more
than ever after this. I am tired of making excuses for them,
believe me.”
“Do you know, dear Miss Cornelia,” said Anne seriously,
“I think we have all been making too many excuses. It is very
foolish and we ought to stop it. I am going to tell you what I’d
like to do, I shan’t do it, of course”—Anne had noted a glint
of alarm in Susan’s eye—“it would be too unconventional,
and we must be conventional or die, after we reach what is
supposed to be a dignified age. But I’d like to do it. I’d like
to call a meeting of the Ladies’ Aid and W. M. S. and the
Girls’ Sewing Society, and include in the audience all and
any Methodists who have been criticising the Merediths—
although I do think if we Presbyterians stopped criticising
and excusing we would find that other denominations
would trouble themselves very little about our manse folks.
I would say to them, ‘Dear Christian friends’—with marked
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emphasis on ‘Christian’—I have something to say to you
and I want to say it good and hard, that you may take it
home and repeat it to your families. You Methodists need
not pity us, and we Presbyterians need not pity ourselves.
We are not going to do it any more. And we are going to say,
boldly and truthfully, to all critics and sympathizers, ‘We are
proud of our minister and his family. Mr. Meredith is the
best preacher Glen St. Mary Church ever had. Moreover, he
is a sincere, earnest teacher of truth and Christian charity.
He is a faithful friend, a judicious pastor in all essentials, and
a refined, scholarly, well-bred man. His family are worthy
of him. Gerald Meredith is the cleverest pupil in the Glen
school, and Mr. Hazard says that he is destined to a brilliant
career. He is a manly, honourable, truthful little fellow. Faith
Meredith is a beauty, and as inspiring and original as she is
beautiful. ere is nothing commonplace about her. All the
other girls in the Glen put together haven’t the vim, and wit,
and joyousness and ‘spunk’ she has. She has not an enemy in
the world. Every one who knows her loves her. Of how many,
children or grown-ups, can that be said? Una Meredith is
sweetness personified. She will make a most lovable woman.
Carl Meredith, with his love for ants and frogs and spiders,
will some day be a naturalist whom all Canada—nay, all the
world, will delight to honour. Do you know of any other
family in the Glen, or out of it, of whom all these things can
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be said? Away with shamefaced excuses and apologies. We
rejoice in our minister and his splendid boys and girls!”
Anne stopped, partly because she was out of breath after
her vehement speech and partly because she could not trust
herself to speak further in view of Miss Cornelia’s face. at
good lady was staring helplessly at Anne, apparently engulfed
in billows of new ideas. But she came up with a gasp and
struck out for shore gallantly.
“Anne Blythe, I wish you would call that meeting and say
just that! You’ve made me ashamed of myself, for one, and far
be it from me to refuse to admit it. Of course, that is how we
should have talked—especially to the Methodists. And it’s
every word of it true—every word. We’ve just been shutting
our eyes to the big worth-while things and squinting them
on the little things that don’t really matter a pin’s worth. Oh,
Anne, dearie, I can see a thing when it’s hammered into my
head. No more apologizing for Cornelia Marshall! I shall
hold my head up after this, believe me,—though I may talk
things over with you as usual just to relieve my feelings if
the Merediths do any more startling stunts. Even that letter
I felt so bad about—why, it’s only a good joke after all, as
Norman says. Not many girls would have been cute enough
to think of writing it—and all punctuated so nicely and not
one word misspelled. Just let me hear any Methodist say one
word about it—though all the same I’ll never forgive Joe
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Vickers—believe me! Where are the rest of your small fry
to-night?”
“Walter and the twins are in Rainbow Valley. Jem is
studying in the garret.”
“ey are all crazy about Rainbow Valley. Mary Vance
thinks it’s the only place in the world. She’d be off up here
every evening if I’d let her. But I don’t encourage her in
gadding. Besides, I miss the creature when she isn’t around,
Anne dearie. I never thought I’d get so fond of her. Not but
what I see her faults and try to correct them. But she has
never said one saucy word to me since she came to my house
and she is a great help—for when all is said and done, Anne
dearie, I am not so young as I once was, and there is no sense
in denying it. I was fifty-nine my last birthday. I don’t feel it,
but there is no gainsaying the Family Bible.”
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CHaPTeR XXVii
a SaCReD ConCeRT
IN spite of Miss Cornelia’s new point of view she could
not help feeling a little disturbed over the next performance
of the manse children. In public she carried off the situation
splendidly, saying to all the gossips the substance of what
Anne had said in daffodil time, and saying it so pointedly
and forcibly that her hearers found themselves feeling rather
foolish and began to think that, after all, they were making
too much of a childish prank. But in private Miss Cornelia
allowed herself the relief of bemoaning it to Anne.
“Anne, dearie, they had a concert in the graveyard last
ursday evening, while the Methodist prayer meeting was
going on. ere they sat, on Hezekiah Pollock’s tombstone,
and sang for a solid hour. Of course, I understand it was
mostly hymns they sang, and it wouldn’t have been quite so
bad if they’d done nothing else. But I’m told they finished up
with Polly Wolly Doodle at full length—and that just when
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Deacon Baxter was praying.”
“I was there that night,” said Susan, “and, although I did
not say anything about it to you, Mrs. Dr. dear, I could
not help thinking that it was a great pity they picked that
particular evening. It was truly blood-curdling to hear them
sitting there in that abode of the dead, shouting that frivolous
song at the tops of their lungs.”
“I don’t know what you were doing in a Methodist prayer
meeting,” said Miss Cornelia acidly.
“I have never found that Methodism was catching,”
retorted Susan stiffly. “And, as I was going to say when
I was interrupted, badly as I felt, I did not give in to the
Methodists. When Mrs. Deacon Baxter said, as we came
out, ‘What a disgraceful exhibition!’ I said, looking her fairly
in the eye, ‘ey are all beautiful singers and none of your
choir, Mrs. Baxter, ever bother themselves coming out to
your prayer meeting, it seems. eir voices appear to be in
tune only on Sundays!’ She was quite meek and I felt that
I had snubbed her properly. But I could have done it much
more thoroughly, Mrs. Dr. dear, if only they had left out
Polly Wolly Doodle. It is truly terrible to think of that being
sung in a graveyard.”
“Some of those dead folks sang Polly Wolly Doodle when
they were living, Susan. Perhaps they like to hear it yet,”
suggested Gilbert.
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Miss Cornelia looked at him reproachfully and made up
her mind that, on some future occasion, she would hint
to Anne that the doctor should be admonished not to say
such things. ey might injure his practice. People might
get it into their heads that he wasn’t orthodox. To be sure,
Marshall said even worse things habitually, but then he was
not a public man.
“I understand that their father was in his study all the
time, with his windows open, but never noticed them at all.
Of course, he was lost in a book as usual. But I spoke to him
about it yesterday, when he called.
“How could you dare, Mrs. Marshall Elliott?” asked Susan
rebukingly.
“Dare! It’s time somebody dared something. Why, they say
he knows nothing about that letter of Faith’s to the Journal
because nobody liked to mention it to him. He never looks
at a Journal of course. But I thought he ought to know of
this to prevent any such performances in future. He said he
would ‘discuss it with them.’ But of course he’d never think
of it again after he got out of our gate. at man has no
sense of humour, Anne, believe me. He preached last Sunday
on ‘How to Bring up Children.’ A beautiful sermon it was,
too—and everybody in church thinking ‘what a pity you
can’t practice what you preach.’ ”
Miss Cornelia did Mr. Meredith an injustice in thinking
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he would so soon forget what she had told him. He went
home much disturbed and when the children came from
Rainbow Valley that night, at a much later hour than they
should have been prowling in it, he called them into his
study.
ey went in, somewhat awed. It was such an unusual
thing for their father to do. What could he be going to
say to them? ey racked their memories for any recent
transgression of sufficient importance, but could not recall
any. Carl had spilled a saucerful of jam on Mrs. Peter Flagg’s
silk dress two evenings before, when, at Aunt Martha’s
invitation, she had stayed to supper. But Mr. Meredith had
not noticed it, and Mrs. Flagg, who was a kindly soul, had
made no fuss. Besides, Carl had been punished by having to
wear Una’s dress all the rest of the evening.
Una suddenly thought that perhaps her father meant to
tell them that he was going to marry Miss West. Her heart
began to beat violently and her legs trembled. en she saw
that Mr. Meredith looked very stern and sorrowful. No, it
could not be that.
“Children,” said Mr. Meredith, “I have heard something
that has pained me very much. Is it true that you sat out in
the graveyard all last ursday evening and sang ribald songs
while a prayer meeting was being held in the Methodist
church?”
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“Great Cesær, dad, we forgot all about it being their prayer
meeting night,” exclaimed Jerry in dismay.
“en it is true—you did do this thing?”
“Why, dad, I don’t know what you mean by ribald
songs. We sang hymns—it was a sacred concert, you know.
What harm was that? I tell you we never thought about it’s
being Methodist prayer meeting night. ey used to have
their meeting Tuesday nights and since they’ve changed to
ursdays it’s hard to remember.”
“Did you sing nothing but hymns?”
“Why,” said Jerry, turning red, “we did sing Polly Wolly
Doodle at the last. Faith said, ‘Let’s have something cheerful
to wind up with.’ But we didn’t mean any harm, father—
truly we didn’t.”
“e concert was my idea, father,” said Faith, afraid that
Mr. Meredith might blame Jerry too much. “You know the
Methodists themselves had a sacred concert in their church
three Sunday nights ago. I thought it would be good fun
to get one up in imitation of it. Only they had prayers at
theirs, and we left that part out, because we heard that
people thought it awful for us to pray in a graveyard. You
were sitting in here all the time,” she added, “and never said
a word to us.”
“I did not notice what you were doing. at is no excuse
for me, of course. I am more to blame than you,—I realize
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