Rainbow Valley by Lucy Maud Montgomery (best ereader for pc TXT) đ
"There are four children, you say?" asked Anne, beginning tomother them already in her heart.
"Yes. They run up just like the steps of a stair. Gerald's theoldest. He's twelve and they call him Jerry. He's a clever boy.Faith is eleven. She is a regular tomboy but pretty as apicture, I must say."
"She looks like an angel but she is a holy terror for mischief,Mrs. Dr. dear," said Susan solemnly. "I was at the manse onenight last week and Mrs. James Millison was there, too. She hadbrought them up a dozen eggs and a little pail of milk--a VERYlittle pail, Mrs. Dr. dear. Faith took them and whisked down thecellar with them. Near the bottom of the stairs she caught hertoe and fell the rest of the way, milk and eggs and all. You canimagine the re
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- Author: Lucy Maud Montgomery
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âI hope not, sir,â stammered Faith in some confusion.
âWHY do you hope not? Come, now, WHY do you hope not? Give us a reason, girlâgive us a reason.â
âItâit must be a veryâuncomfortable place, sir.â
âUncomfortable? All depends on your taste in comfortable, girl. Iâd soon get tired of angels. Fancy old Susan in a halo, now!â
Faith did fancy it, and it tickled her so much that she had to laugh. Norman eyed her approvingly.
âSee the fun of it, hey? Oh, I like youâyouâre great. About this church business, nowâcan your father preach?â
âHe is a splendid preacher,â said loyal Faith.
âHe is, hey? Iâll seeâIâll watch out for flaws. Heâd better be careful what he says before ME. Iâll catch himâIâll trip him upâIâll keep tabs on his arguments. Iâm bound to have some fun out of this church going business. Does he ever preach hell?â
âNoâoâoâI donât think so.â
âToo bad. I like sermons on that subject. You tell him that if he wants to keep me in good humour to preach a good rip-roaring sermon on hell once every six monthsâand the more brimstone the better. I like âem smoking. And think of all the pleasure heâd give the old maids, too. Theyâd all keep looking at old Norman Douglas and thinking, âThatâs for you, you old reprobate. Thatâs whatâs in store for YOU!â Iâll give an extra ten dollars every time you get your father to preach on hell. Hereâs Wilson and the jam. Like that, hey? IT isnât macanaccady. Taste!â
Faith obediently swallowed the big spoonful Norman held out to her. Luckily it WAS good.
âBest plum jam in the world,â said Norman, filling a large saucer and plumping it down before her. âGlad you like it. Iâll give you a couple of jars to take home with you. Thereâs nothing mean about meânever was. The devil canât catch me at THAT corner, anyhow. It wasnât my fault that Hester didnât have a new hat for ten years. It was her ownâshe pinched on hats to save money to give yellow fellows over in China. I never gave a cent to missions in my lifeânever will. Never you try to bamboozle me into that! A hundred a year to the salary and church once a monthâbut no spoiling good heathens to make poor Christians! Why, girl, they wouldnât be fit for heaven or hellâclean spoiled for either placeâclean spoiled. Hey, Wilson, havenât you got a smile on yet? Beats all how you women can sulk! I never sulked in my lifeâitâs just one big flash and crash with me and thenâpoufâthe squallâs over and the sun is out and you could eat out of my hand.â
Norman insisted on driving Faith home after supper and he filled the buggy up with apples, cabbages, potatoes and pumpkins and jars of jam.
âThereâs a nice little tom-pussy out in the barn. Iâll give you that too, if youâd like it. Say the word,â he said.
âNo, thank you,â said Faith decidedly. âI donât like cats, and besides, I have a rooster.â
âListen to her. You canât cuddle a rooster as you can a kitten. Who ever heard of petting a rooster? Better take little Tom. I want to find a good home for him.â
âNo. Aunt Martha has a cat and he would kill a strange kitten.â
Norman yielded the point rather reluctantly. He gave Faith an exciting drive home, behind his wild two-year old, and when he had let her out at the kitchen door of the manse and dumped his cargo on the back veranda he drove away shouting,
âItâs only once a monthâonly once a month, mind!â
Faith went up to bed, feeling a little dizzy and breathless, as if she had just escaped from the grasp of a genial whirlwind. She was happy and thankful. No fear now that they would have to leave the Glen and the graveyard and Rainbow Valley. But she fell asleep troubled by a disagreeable subconsciousness that Dan Reese had called her pig-girl and that, having stumbled on such a congenial epithet, he would continue to call her so whenever opportunity offered.
CHAPTER XVII. A DOUBLE VICTORY
Norman Douglas came to church the first Sunday in November and made all the sensation he desired. Mr. Meredith shook hands with him absently on the church steps and hoped dreamily that Mrs. Douglas was well.
âShe wasnât very well just before I buried her ten years ago, but I reckon she has better health now,â boomed Norman, to the horror and amusement of every one except Mr. Meredith, who was absorbed in wondering if he had made the last head of his sermon as clear as he might have, and hadnât the least idea what Norman had said to him or he to Norman.
Norman intercepted Faith at the gate.
âKept my word, you seeâkept my word, Red Rose. Iâm free now till the first Sunday in December. Fine sermon, girlâfine sermon. Your father has more in his head than he carries on his face. But he contradicted himself onceâtell him he contradicted himself. And tell him I want that brimstone sermon in December. Great way to wind up the old yearâwith a taste of hell, you know. And whatâs the matter with a nice tasty discourse on heaven for New Yearâs? Though it wouldnât be half as interesting as hell, girlânot half. Only Iâd like to know what your father thinks about heavenâhe CAN thinkârarest thing in the worldâa person who can think. But he DID contradict himself. Ha, ha! Hereâs a question you might ask him sometime when heâs awake, girl. âCan God make a stone so big He couldnât lift it Himself?â Donât forget now. I want to hear his opinion on it. Iâve stumped many a minister with that, girl.â
Faith was glad to escape him and run home. Dan Reese, standing among the crowd of boys at the gate, looked at her and shaped his mouth into âpig-girl,â but dared not utter it aloud just there. Next day in school was a different matter. At noon recess Faith encountered Dan in the little spruce plantation behind the school and Dan shouted once more,
âPig-girl! Pig-girl! ROOSTER-GIRL!â
Walter Blythe suddenly rose from a mossy cushion behind a little clump of firs where he had been reading. He was very pale, but his eyes blazed.
âYou hold your tongue, Dan Reese!â he said.
âOh, hello, Miss Walter,â retorted Dan, not at all abashed. He vaulted airily to the top of the rail fence and chanted insultingly,
Stole a pot of mustard,
Cowardy, cowardy-custard!â
âYou are a coincidence!â said Walter scornfully, turning still whiter. He had only a very hazy idea what a coincidence was, but Dan had none at all and thought it must be something peculiarly opprobrious.
âYah! Cowardy!â he yelled gain. âYour mother writes liesâliesâlies! And Faith Meredith is a pig-girlâaâpig-girlâa pig-girl! And sheâs a rooster-girlâa rooster-girlâa rooster-girl! Yah! Cowardyâcowardyâcustââ
Dan got no further. Walter had hurled himself across the intervening space and knocked Dan off the fence backward with one well-directed blow. Danâs sudden inglorious sprawl was greeted with a burst of laughter and a clapping of hands from Faith. Dan sprang up, purple with rage, and began to climb the fence. But just then the school-bell rang and Dan knew what happened to boys who were late during Mr. Hazardâs regime.
âWeâll fight this out,â he howled. âCowardy!â
âAny time you like,â said Walter.
âOh, no, no, Walter,â protested Faith. âDonât fight him. I donât mind what he saysâI wouldnât condescend to mind the like of HIM.â
âHe insulted you and he insulted my mother,â said Walter, with the same deadly calm. âTonight after school, Dan.â
âIâve got to go right home from school to pick taters after the harrows, dad says,â answered Dan sulkily. âBut to-morrow nightâll do.â
âAll rightâhere to-morrow night,â agreed Walter.
âAnd Iâll smash your sissy-face for you,â promised Dan.
Walter shudderedânot so much from fear of the threat as from repulsion over the ugliness and vulgarity of it. But he held his head high and marched into school. Faith followed in a conflict of emotions. She hated to think of Walter fighting that little sneak, but oh, he had been splendid! And he was going to fight for HERâFaith Meredithâto punish her insulter! Of course he would winâsuch eyes spelled victory.
Faithâs confidence in her champion had dimmed a little by evening, however. Walter had seemed so very quiet and dull the rest of the day in school.
âIf it were only Jem,â she sighed to Una, as they sat on Hezekiah Pollockâs tombstone in the graveyard. âHE is such a fighterâhe could finish Dan off in no time. But Walter doesnât know much about fighting.â
âIâm so afraid heâll be hurt,â sighed Una, who hated fighting and couldnât understand the subtle, secret exultation she divined in Faith.
âHe oughtnât to be,â said Faith uncomfortably. âHeâs every bit as big as Dan.â
âBut Danâs so much older,â said Una. âWhy, heâs nearly a year older.â
âDan hasnât done much fighting when you come to count up,â said Faith. âI believe heâs really a coward. He didnât think Walter would fight, or he wouldnât have called names before him. Oh, if you could just have seen Walterâs face when he looked at him, Una! It made me shiverâwith a nice shiver. He looked just like Sir Galahad in that poem father read us on Saturday.â
âI hate the thought of them fighting and I wish it could be stopped,â said Una.
âOh, itâs got to go on now,â cried Faith. âItâs a matter of honour. Donât you DARE tell anyone, Una. If you do Iâll never tell you secrets again!â
âI wonât tell,â agreed Una. âBut I wonât stay to-morrow to watch the fight. Iâm coming right home.â
âOh, all right. I have to be thereâit would be mean not to, when Walter is fighting for me. Iâm going to tie my colours on his armâthatâs the thing to do when heâs my knight. How lucky Mrs. Blythe gave me that pretty blue hair-ribbon for my birthday! Iâve only worn it twice so it will be almost new. But I wish I was sure Walter would win. It will be soâso HUMILIATING if he doesnât.â
Faith would have been yet more dubious if she could have seen her champion just then. Walter had gone home from school with all his righteous anger at a low ebb and a very nasty feeling in its place. He had to fight Dan Reese the next nightâand he didnât want toâhe hated the thought of it. And he kept thinking of it all the time. Not for a minute could he get away from the thought. Would it hurt much? He was terribly afraid that it would hurt. And would he be defeated and shamed?
He could not eat any supper worth speaking of. Susan had made a big batch of his favourite monkey-faces, but he could choke only one down. Jem ate four. Walter wondered how he could. How could ANYBODY eat? And how could they all talk gaily as they were doing? There was mother, with her shining eyes and pink cheeks. SHE didnât know her son had to fight next day. Would she be so gay if she knew, Walter wondered darkly. Jem had taken Susanâs picture with his new camera and the result was passed around the table and Susan was terribly indignant over it.
âI am no beauty, Mrs. Dr. dear, and well I know it, and have always known it,â she said in an aggrieved tone, âbut that I am as ugly as that picture makes me out I will never, no, never believe.â
Jem laughed over this and Anne laughed again with him. Walter couldnât endure it. He got up and fled to his room.
âThat child has got something on his mind, Mrs. Dr. dear,â said Susan. âHe has et next to nothing. Do you suppose he is plotting
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