Anne of the Island

by L. M. Montgomery

  Chapter XIII

  The Way of Transgressors

  Davy and Dora were ready for Sunday School. They were going alone, whichdid not often happen, for Mrs. Lynde always attended Sunday School. ButMrs. Lynde had twisted her ankle and was lame, so she was staying homethis morning. The twins were also to represent the family at church, forAnne had gone away the evening before to spend Sunday with friends inCarmody, and Marilla had one of her headaches.

  Davy came downstairs slowly. Dora was waiting in the hall for him,having been made ready by Mrs. Lynde. Davy had attended to his ownpreparations. He had a cent in his pocket for the Sunday Schoolcollection, and a five-cent piece for the church collection; he carriedhis Bible in one hand and his Sunday School quarterly in the other;he knew his lesson and his Golden Text and his catechism questionperfectly. Had he not studied them--perforce--in Mrs. Lynde's kitchen,all last Sunday afternoon? Davy, therefore, should have been in a placidframe of mind. As a matter of fact, despite text and catechism, he wasinwardly as a ravening wolf.

  Mrs. Lynde limped out of her kitchen as he joined Dora.

  "Are you clean?" she demanded severely.

  "Yes--all of me that shows," Davy answered with a defiant scowl.

  Mrs. Rachel sighed. She had her suspicions about Davy's neck and ears.But she knew that if she attempted to make a personal examination Davywould likely take to his heels and she could not pursue him today.

  "Well, be sure you behave yourselves," she warned them. "Don't walk inthe dust. Don't stop in the porch to talk to the other children. Don'tsquirm or wriggle in your places. Don't forget the Golden Text. Don'tlose your collection or forget to put it in. Don't whisper at prayertime, and don't forget to pay attention to the sermon."

  Davy deigned no response. He marched away down the lane, followed by themeek Dora. But his soul seethed within. Davy had suffered, or thought hehad suffered, many things at the hands and tongue of Mrs. Rachel Lyndesince she had come to Green Gables, for Mrs. Lynde could not live withanybody, whether they were nine or ninety, without trying to bringthem up properly. And it was only the preceding afternoon that she hadinterfered to influence Marilla against allowing Davy to go fishing withthe Timothy Cottons. Davy was still boiling over this.

  As soon as he was out of the lane Davy stopped and twisted hiscountenance into such an unearthly and terrific contortion that Dora,although she knew his gifts in that respect, was honestly alarmed lesthe should never in the world be able to get it straightened out again.

  "Darn her," exploded Davy.

  "Oh, Davy, don't swear," gasped Dora in dismay.

  "'Darn' isn't swearing--not real swearing. And I don't care if it is,"retorted Davy recklessly.

  "Well, if you MUST say dreadful words don't say them on Sunday," pleadedDora.

  Davy was as yet far from repentance, but in his secret soul he feltthat, perhaps, he had gone a little too far.

  "I'm going to invent a swear word of my own," he declared.

  "God will punish you if you do," said Dora solemnly.

  "Then I think God is a mean old scamp," retorted Davy. "Doesn't He knowa fellow must have some way of 'spressing his feelings?"

  "Davy!!!" said Dora. She expected that Davy would be struck down dead onthe spot. But nothing happened.

  "Anyway, I ain't going to stand any more of Mrs. Lynde's bossing,"spluttered Davy. "Anne and Marilla may have the right to boss me, butSHE hasn't. I'm going to do every single thing she told me not to do.You watch me."

  In grim, deliberate silence, while Dora watched him with the fascinationof horror, Davy stepped off the green grass of the roadside, ankle deepinto the fine dust which four weeks of rainless weather had made on theroad, and marched along in it, shuffling his feet viciously until he wasenveloped in a hazy cloud.

  "That's the beginning," he announced triumphantly. "And I'm going tostop in the porch and talk as long as there's anybody there to talkto. I'm going to squirm and wriggle and whisper, and I'm going to sayI don't know the Golden Text. And I'm going to throw away both of mycollections RIGHT NOW."

  And Davy hurled cent and nickel over Mr. Barry's fence with fiercedelight.

  "Satan made you do that," said Dora reproachfully.

  "He didn't," cried Davy indignantly. "I just thought it out for myself.And I've thought of something else. I'm not going to Sunday Schoolor church at all. I'm going up to play with the Cottons. They told meyesterday they weren't going to Sunday School today, 'cause their motherwas away and there was nobody to make them. Come along, Dora, we'll havea great time."

  "I don't want to go," protested Dora.

  "You've got to," said Davy. "If you don't come I'll tell Marilla thatFrank Bell kissed you in school last Monday."

  "I couldn't help it. I didn't know he was going to," cried Dora,blushing scarlet.

  "Well, you didn't slap him or seem a bit cross," retorted Davy. "I'lltell her THAT, too, if you don't come. We'll take the short cut up thisfield."

  "I'm afraid of those cows," protested poor Dora, seeing a prospect ofescape.

  "The very idea of your being scared of those cows," scoffed Davy. "Why,they're both younger than you."

  "They're bigger," said Dora.

  "They won't hurt you. Come along, now. This is great. When I grow upI ain't going to bother going to church at all. I believe I can get toheaven by myself."

  "You'll go to the other place if you break the Sabbath day," saidunhappy Dora, following him sorely against her will.

  But Davy was not scared--yet. Hell was very far off, and the delights ofa fishing expedition with the Cottons were very near. He wished Dorahad more spunk. She kept looking back as if she were going to cry everyminute, and that spoiled a fellow's fun. Hang girls, anyway. Davy didnot say "darn" this time, even in thought. He was not sorry--yet--thathe had said it once, but it might be as well not to tempt the UnknownPowers too far on one day.

  The small Cottons were playing in their back yard, and hailed Davy'sappearance with whoops of delight. Pete, Tommy, Adolphus, and MirabelCotton were all alone. Their mother and older sisters were away. Dorawas thankful Mirabel was there, at least. She had been afraid she wouldbe alone in a crowd of boys. Mirabel was almost as bad as a boy--she wasso noisy and sunburned and reckless. But at least she wore dresses.

  "We've come to go fishing," announced Davy.

  "Whoop," yelled the Cottons. They rushed away to dig worms at once,Mirabel leading the van with a tin can. Dora could have sat down andcried. Oh, if only that hateful Frank Bell had never kissed her! Thenshe could have defied Davy, and gone to her beloved Sunday School.

  They dared not, of course, go fishing on the pond, where they would beseen by people going to church. They had to resort to the brook in thewoods behind the Cotton house. But it was full of trout, and they had aglorious time that morning--at least the Cottons certainly had, andDavy seemed to have it. Not being entirely bereft of prudence, he haddiscarded boots and stockings and borrowed Tommy Cotton's overalls. Thusaccoutered, bog and marsh and undergrowth had no terrors for him. Dorawas frankly and manifestly miserable. She followed the others in theirperegrinations from pool to pool, clasping her Bible and quarterlytightly and thinking with bitterness of soul of her beloved class whereshe should be sitting that very moment, before a teacher she adored.Instead, here she was roaming the woods with those half-wild Cottons,trying to keep her boots clean and her pretty white dress free fromrents and stains. Mirabel had offered the loan of an apron but Dora hadscornfully refused.

  The trout bit as they always do on Sundays. In an hour the transgressorshad all the fish they wanted, so they returned to the house, much toDora's relief. She sat primly on a hencoop in the yard while the othersplayed an uproarious game of tag; and then they all climbed to the topof the pig-house roof and cut their initials on the saddleboard. Theflat-roofed henhouse and a pile of straw beneath gave Davy anotherinspiration. They spent a splendid half hour climbing on the roof anddiving off into the straw with whoops and yells.

  But even u
nlawful pleasures must come to an end. When the rumble ofwheels over the pond bridge told that people were going home from churchDavy knew they must go. He discarded Tommy's overalls, resumed his ownrightful attire, and turned away from his string of trout with a sigh.No use to think of taking them home.

  "Well, hadn't we a splendid time?" he demanded defiantly, as they wentdown the hill field.

  "I hadn't," said Dora flatly. "And I don't believe youhad--really--either," she added, with a flash of insight that was not tobe expected of her.

  "I had so," cried Davy, but in the voice of one who doth protest toomuch. "No wonder you hadn't--just sitting there like a--like a mule."

  "I ain't going to, 'sociate with the Cottons," said Dora loftily.

  "The Cottons are all right," retorted Davy. "And they have far bettertimes than we have. They do just as they please and say just what theylike before everybody. _I_'m going to do that, too, after this."

  "There are lots of things you wouldn't dare say before everybody,"averred Dora.

  "No, there isn't."

  "There is, too. Would you," demanded Dora gravely, "would you say'tomcat' before the minister?"

  This was a staggerer. Davy was not prepared for such a concrete exampleof the freedom of speech. But one did not have to be consistent withDora.

  "Of course not," he admitted sulkily.

  "'Tomcat' isn't a holy word. I wouldn't mention such an animal before aminister at all."

  "But if you had to?" persisted Dora.

  "I'd call it a Thomas pussy," said Davy.

  "_I_ think 'gentleman cat' would be more polite," reflected Dora.

  "YOU thinking!" retorted Davy with withering scorn.

  Davy was not feeling comfortable, though he would have died before headmitted it to Dora. Now that the exhilaration of truant delights haddied away, his conscience was beginning to give him salutary twinges.After all, perhaps it would have been better to have gone to SundaySchool and church. Mrs. Lynde might be bossy; but there was always abox of cookies in her kitchen cupboard and she was not stingy. At thisinconvenient moment Davy remembered that when he had torn his new schoolpants the week before, Mrs. Lynde had mended them beautifully and neversaid a word to Marilla about them.

  But Davy's cup of iniquity was not yet full. He was to discover that onesin demands another to cover it. They had dinner with Mrs. Lynde thatday, and the first thing she asked Davy was,

  "Were all your class in Sunday School today?"

  "Yes'm," said Davy with a gulp. "All were there--'cept one."

  "Did you say your Golden Text and catechism?"

  "Yes'm."

  "Did you put your collection in?"

  "Yes'm."

  "Was Mrs. Malcolm MacPherson in church?"

  "I don't know." This, at least, was the truth, thought wretched Davy.

  "Was the Ladies' Aid announced for next week?"

  "Yes'm"--quakingly.

  "Was prayer-meeting?"

  "I--I don't know."

  "YOU should know. You should listen more attentively to theannouncements. What was Mr. Harvey's text?"

  Davy took a frantic gulp of water and swallowed it and the last protestof conscience together. He glibly recited an old Golden Text learnedseveral weeks ago. Fortunately Mrs. Lynde now stopped questioning him;but Davy did not enjoy his dinner.

  He could only eat one helping of pudding.

  "What's the matter with you?" demanded justly astonished Mrs. Lynde."Are you sick?"

  "No," muttered Davy.

  "You look pale. You'd better keep out of the sun this afternoon,"admonished Mrs. Lynde.

  "Do you know how many lies you told Mrs. Lynde?" asked Dorareproachfully, as soon as they were alone after dinner.

  Davy, goaded to desperation, turned fiercely.

  "I don't know and I don't care," he said. "You just shut up, DoraKeith."

  Then poor Davy betook himself to a secluded retreat behind the woodpileto think over the way of transgressors.

  Green Gables was wrapped in darkness and silence when Anne reached home.She lost no time going to bed, for she was very tired and sleepy. Therehad been several Avonlea jollifications the preceding week, involvingrather late hours. Anne's head was hardly on her pillow before she washalf asleep; but just then her door was softly opened and a pleadingvoice said, "Anne."

  Anne sat up drowsily.

  "Davy, is that you? What is the matter?"

  A white-clad figure flung itself across the floor and on to the bed.

  "Anne," sobbed Davy, getting his arms about her neck. "I'm awful gladyou're home. I couldn't go to sleep till I'd told somebody."

  "Told somebody what?"

  "How mis'rubul I am."

  "Why are you miserable, dear?"

  "'Cause I was so bad today, Anne. Oh, I was awful bad--badder'n I'veever been yet."

  "What did you do?"

  "Oh, I'm afraid to tell you. You'll never like me again, Anne. Icouldn't say my prayers tonight. I couldn't tell God what I'd done. Iwas 'shamed to have Him know."

  "But He knew anyway, Davy."

  "That's what Dora said. But I thought p'raps He mightn't have noticedjust at the time. Anyway, I'd rather tell you first."

  "WHAT is it you did?"

  Out it all came in a rush.

  "I run away from Sunday School--and went fishing with the Cottons--andI told ever so many whoppers to Mrs. Lynde--oh! 'most half adozen--and--and--I--I said a swear word, Anne--a pretty near swear word,anyhow--and I called God names."

  There was silence. Davy didn't know what to make of it. Was Anne soshocked that she never would speak to him again?

  "Anne, what are you going to do to me?" he whispered.

  "Nothing, dear. You've been punished already, I think."

  "No, I haven't. Nothing's been done to me."

  "You've been very unhappy ever since you did wrong, haven't you?"

  "You bet!" said Davy emphatically.

  "That was your conscience punishing you, Davy."

  "What's my conscience? I want to know."

  "It's something in you, Davy, that always tells you when you are doingwrong and makes you unhappy if you persist in doing it. Haven't younoticed that?"

  "Yes, but I didn't know what it was. I wish I didn't have it. I'd havelots more fun. Where is my conscience, Anne? I want to know. Is it in mystomach?"

  "No, it's in your soul," answered Anne, thankful for the darkness, sincegravity must be preserved in serious matters.

  "I s'pose I can't get clear of it then," said Davy with a sigh. "Are yougoing to tell Marilla and Mrs. Lynde on me, Anne?"

  "No, dear, I'm not going to tell any one. You are sorry you werenaughty, aren't you?"

  "You bet!"

  "And you'll never be bad like that again."

  "No, but--" added Davy cautiously, "I might be bad some other way."

  "You won't say naughty words, or run away on Sundays, or tell falsehoodsto cover up your sins?"

  "No. It doesn't pay," said Davy.

  "Well, Davy, just tell God you are sorry and ask Him to forgive you."

  "Have YOU forgiven me, Anne?"

  "Yes, dear."

  "Then," said Davy joyously, "I don't care much whether God does or not."

  "Davy!"

  "Oh--I'll ask Him--I'll ask Him," said Davy quickly, scrambling off thebed, convinced by Anne's tone that he must have said something dreadful."I don't mind asking Him, Anne.--Please, God, I'm awful sorry I behavedbad today and I'll try to be good on Sundays always and please forgiveme.--There now, Anne."

  "Well, now, run off to bed like a good boy."

  "All right. Say, I don't feel mis'rubul any more. I feel fine. Goodnight."

  "Good night."

  Anne slipped down on her pillows with a sigh of relief. Oh--howsleepy--she was! In another second--

  "Anne!" Davy was back again by her bed. Anne dragged her eyes open.

  "What is it now, dear?" she asked, trying to keep a note of impatienceout of her voice.
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  "Anne, have you ever noticed how Mr. Harrison spits? Do you s'pose, if Ipractice hard, I can learn to spit just like him?"

  Anne sat up.

  "Davy Keith," she said, "go straight to your bed and don't let me catchyou out of it again tonight! Go, now!"

  Davy went, and stood not upon the order of his going.