The Copy-Cat [42]
about that little Adams girl's big sister -- why you keep her hidden. They have a theory that she is either an idiot or dreadfully disfigured. I had to tell them I know nothing about it." "There isn't any girl," said the rector, wearily. "Sally, do explain." Dr. Trumbull listened. "I have known such cases," he said when Sally had finished. "What did you do for them?" Sally asked, anx- iously. "Nothing. Such cases have to be cured by time. Children get over these fancies when they grow up." "Do you mean to say that we have to put up with big sister Solly until Content is grown up?" asked Sally, in a desperate tone. And then Jim came in. Content had run up-stairs. "It is all right, mother," said Jim. Sally caught him by the shoulders. "Oh, Jim, has she told you?" Jim gave briefly, and with many omissions, an account of his conversation with Content. "Did she say anything about that dress, Jim?" asked his mother. "She said her aunt had meant it for that out- West rector's daughter Alice to graduate in, but Content wanted it for her big sister Solly, and told the rector's wife it was hers. Content says she knows she was a naughty girl, but after she had said it she was afraid to say it wasn't so. Mother, I think that poor little thing is scared 'most to death." "Nobody is going to hurt her," said Sally. "Goodness! that rector's wife was so conscientious that she even let that dress go. Well, I can send it right back, and the girl will have it in time for her graduation, after all. Jim dear, call the poor child down. Tell her nobody is going to scold her." Sally's voice was very tender. Jim returned with Content. She had on a little ruffled pink gown which seemed to reflect color on her cheeks. She wore an inscrutable expression, at once child-like and charming. She looked shy, fur- tively amused, yet happy. Sally realized that the pessimistic downward lines had disappeared, that Content was really a pretty little girl. Sally put an arm around the small, pink figure. "So you and Jim have been talking, dear?" she said. "Yes, ma'am," replied little Content. "Jim is my big brother --" She just caught herself before she said Solly. "And your sister Solly is married and living out West?" "Yes," said Content, with a long breath. "My sister Solly is married." Smiles broke all over her little face. She hid it in Sally's skirts, and a little peal of laughter like a bird-trill came from the soft muslin folds.
LITTLE LUCY ROSE
LITTLE LUCY ROSE BACK of the rectory there was a splendid, long hill. The ground receded until the rectory garden was reached, and the hill was guarded on either flank by a thick growth of pines and cedars, and, being a part of the land appertaining to the rectory, was never invaded by the village children. This was considered very fortunate by Mrs. Patterson, Jim's mother, and for an odd reason. The rector's wife was very fond of coasting, as she was of most out-of-door sports, but her dignified position pre- vented her from enjoying them to the utmost. In many localities the clergyman's wife might have played golf and tennis, have rode and swum and coasted and skated, and nobody thought the worse of her; but in The Village it was different. Sally had therefore rejoiced at the discovery of that splendid, isolated hill behind the house. It could not have been improved upon for a long, per- fectly glorious coast, winding up on the pool of ice in the garden and bumping thrillingly between dry vegetables. Mrs. Patterson steered and Jim made the running pushes, and slid flat on his chest behind his mother. Jim was very proud of his mother. He often wished that he felt at liberty to tell of her feats. He had never been told not to tell, but real- ized, being rather a sharp boy, that silence was wiser. Jim's mother confided in him, and he re- spected her confidence. "Oh, Jim dear," she would often say, "there is a mothers' meeting this after- noon, and I would so much rather go coasting with you." Or, "There's a Guild meeting about a fair, and the ice in the garden is really quite smooth." It was perhaps unbecoming
LITTLE LUCY ROSE
LITTLE LUCY ROSE BACK of the rectory there was a splendid, long hill. The ground receded until the rectory garden was reached, and the hill was guarded on either flank by a thick growth of pines and cedars, and, being a part of the land appertaining to the rectory, was never invaded by the village children. This was considered very fortunate by Mrs. Patterson, Jim's mother, and for an odd reason. The rector's wife was very fond of coasting, as she was of most out-of-door sports, but her dignified position pre- vented her from enjoying them to the utmost. In many localities the clergyman's wife might have played golf and tennis, have rode and swum and coasted and skated, and nobody thought the worse of her; but in The Village it was different. Sally had therefore rejoiced at the discovery of that splendid, isolated hill behind the house. It could not have been improved upon for a long, per- fectly glorious coast, winding up on the pool of ice in the garden and bumping thrillingly between dry vegetables. Mrs. Patterson steered and Jim made the running pushes, and slid flat on his chest behind his mother. Jim was very proud of his mother. He often wished that he felt at liberty to tell of her feats. He had never been told not to tell, but real- ized, being rather a sharp boy, that silence was wiser. Jim's mother confided in him, and he re- spected her confidence. "Oh, Jim dear," she would often say, "there is a mothers' meeting this after- noon, and I would so much rather go coasting with you." Or, "There's a Guild meeting about a fair, and the ice in the garden is really quite smooth." It was perhaps unbecoming