the golden road-第22部分

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〃And　yet　his　brother　is　an　elder　in　the　church；〃　said　Sara　Ray　wonderingly。

〃I　know　a　story　about　Isaac　Frewen；〃　said　the　Story　Girl。　　〃When　he　was　young　he　went　by　the　name　of　Oatmeal　Frewen　and　he　got　it　this　way。　　He　was　noted　for　doing　outlandish　things。　　He　lived　at　Markdale　then　and　he　was　a　great；　overgrown；　awkward　fellow；　six　feet　tall。　　He　drove　over　to　Baywater　one　Saturday　to　visit　his　uncle　there　and　came　home　the　next　afternoon；　and　although　it　was　Sunday　he　brought　a　big　bag　of　oatmeal　in　the　wagon　with　him。　　When　he　came　to　Carlisle　church　he　saw　that　service　was　going　on　there；　and　he　concluded　to　stop　and　go　in。　　But　he　didn't　like　to　leave　his　oatmeal　outside　for　fear　something　would　happen　to　it；　because　there　were　always　mischievous　boys　around；　so　he　hoisted　the　bag　on　his　back　and　walked　into　church　with　it　and　right　to　the　top　of　the　aisle　to　Grandfather　King's　pew。　　Grandfather　King　used　to　say　he　would　never　forget　it　to　his　dying　day。　　The　minister　was　preaching　and　everything　was　quiet　and　solemn　when　he　heard　a　snicker　behind　him。　　Grandfather　King　turned　around　with　a　terrible　frownfor　you　know　in　those　days　it　was　thought　a　dreadful　thing　to　laugh　in　churchto　rebuke　the　offender；　and　what　did　he　see　but　that　great；　hulking　young　Isaac　stalking　up　the　aisle；　bending　a　little　forward　under　the　weight　of　a　big　bag　of　oatmeal？　　Grandfather　King　was　so　amazed　he　couldn't　laugh；　but　almost　everyone　else　in　the　church　was　laughing；　and　grandfather　said　he　never　blamed　them；　for　no　funnier　sight　was　ever　seen。　　Young　Isaac　turned　into　grandfather's　pew　and　thumped　the　bag　of　oatmeal　down　on　the　seat　with　a　thud　that　cracked　it。　　Then　he　plumped　down　beside　it；　took　off　his　hat；　wiped　his　face；　and　settled　back　to　listen　to　the　sermon；　just　as　if　it　was　all　a　matter　of　course。　　When　the　service　was　over　he　hoisted　his　bag　up　again；　marched　out　of　church；　and　drove　home。　　He　could　never　understand　why　it　made　so　much　talk；　but　he　was　known　by　the　name　of　Oatmeal　Frewen　for　years。〃

Our　laughter；　as　we　separated；　rang　sweetly　through　the　old　orchard　and　across　the　far；　dim　meadows。　　Felicity　and　Cecily　went　into　the　house　and　Sara　Ray　and　the　Story　Girl　went　home；　but　Peter　decoyed　me　into　the　granary　to　ask　advice。

〃You　know　Felicity　has　a　birthday　next　week；〃　he　said；　〃and　I　want　to　write　her　an　ode。〃

〃Aa　what？〃　I　gasped。

〃An　ode；〃　repeated　Peter；　gravely。　　〃It's　poetry；　you　know。　　I'll　put　it　in　Our　Magazine。〃

〃But　you　can't　write　poetry；　Peter；〃　I　protested。

〃I'm　going　to　try；〃　said　Peter　stoutly。　　〃That　is；　if　you　think　she　won't　be　offended　at　me。〃

〃She　ought　to　feel　flattered；〃　I　replied。

〃You　never　can　tell　how　she'll　take　things；〃　said　Peter　gloomily。　　〃Of　course　I　ain't　going　to　sign　my　name；　and　if　she　ain't　pleased　I　won't　tell　her　I　wrote　it。　　Don't　you　let　on。〃

I　promised　I　wouldn't　and　Peter　went　off　with　a　light　heart。　　He　said　he　meant　to　write　two　lines　every　day　till　he　got　it　done。

Cupid　was　playing　his　world…old　tricks　with　others　than　poor　Peter　that　spring。　　Allusion　has　been　made　in　these　chronicles　to　one；　Cyrus　Brisk；　and　to　the　fact　that　our　brown…haired；　soft…voiced　Cecily　had　found　favour　in　the　eyes　of　the　said　Cyrus。　　Cecily　did　not　regard　her　conquest　with　any　pride。　　On　the　contrary；　it　annoyed　her　terribly　to　be　teased　about　Cyrus。　　She　declared　she　hated　both　him　and　his　name。　　She　was　as　uncivil　to　him　as　sweet　Cecily　could　be　to　anyone；　but　the　gallant　Cyrus　was　nothing　daunted。　　He　laid　determined　siege　to　Cecily's　young　heart　by　all　the　methods　known　to　love…lorn　swains。　　He　placed　delicate　tributes　of　spruce　gum；　molasses　taffy；　〃conversation〃　candies　and　decorated　slate　pencils　on　her　desk；　he　persistently　〃chose〃　her　in　all　school　games　calling　for　a　partner；　he　entreated　to　be　allowed　to　carry　her　basket　from　school；　he　offered　to　work　her　sums　for　her；　and　rumour　had　it　that　he　had　made　a　wild　statement　to　the　effect　that　he　meant　to　ask　if　he　might　see　her　home　some　night　from　prayer　meeting。　　Cecily　was　quite　frightened　that　he　would；　she　confided　to　me　that　she　would　rather　die　than　walk　home　with　him；　but　that　if　he　asked　her　she　would　be　too　bashful　to　say　no。　　So　far；　however；　Cyrus　had　not　molested　her　out　of　school；　nor　had　he　as　yet　thumped　Willy　Fraserwho　was　reported　to　be　very　low　in　his　spirits　over　the　whole　affair。

And　now　Cyrus　had　written　Cecily　a　lettera　love　letter；　mark　you。　　Moreover；　he　had　sent　it　through　the　post…office；　with　a　real　stamp　on　it。　　Its　arrival　made　a　sensation　among　us。　　Dan　brought　it　from　the　office　and；　recognizing　the　handwriting　of　Cyrus；　gave　Cecily　no　peace　until　she　showed　us　the　letter。　　It　was　a　very　sentimental　and　rather　ill…spelled　epistle　in　which　the　inflammable　Cyrus　reproached　her　in　heart…rending　words　for　her　coldness；　and　begged　her　to　answer　his　letter；　saying　that　if　she　did　he　would　keep　the　secret　〃in　violets。〃　　Cyrus　probably　meant　〃inviolate〃　but　Cecily　thought　it　was　intended　for　a　poetical　touch。　　He　signed　himself　〃your　troo　lover；　Cyrus　Brisk〃　and　added　in　a　postcript　that　he　couldn't　eat　or　sleep　for　thinking　of　her。

〃Are　you　going　to　answer　it？〃　asked　Dan。

〃Certainly　not；〃　said　Cecily　with　dignity。

〃Cyrus　Brisk　wants　to　be　kicked；〃　growled　Felix；　who　never　seemed　to　be　any　particular　friend　of　Willy　Fraser's　either。　　〃He'd　better　learn　how　to　spell　before　he　takes　to　writing　love　letters。〃

〃Maybe　Cyrus　will　starve　to　death　if　you　don't；〃　suggested　Sara　Ray。

〃I　hope　he　will；〃　said　Cecily　cruelly。　　She　was　truly　vexed　over　the　letter；　and　yet；　so　contradictory　a　thing　is　the　feminine　heart；　even　at　twelve　years　old；　I　think　she　was　a　little　flattered　by　it　also。　　It　was　her　first　love　letter　and　she　confided　to　me　that　it　gives　you　a　very　queer　feeling　to　get　it。　　At　all　eventsthe　letter；　though　unanswered；　was　not　torn　up。　　I　feel　sure　Cecily　preserved　it。　　But　she　walked　past　Cyrus　next　morning　at　school　with　a　frozen　countenance；　evincing　not　the　slightest　pity　for　his　pangs　of　unrequited　affection。　　Cecily　winced　when　Pat　caught　a　mouse；　visited　a　school　chum　the　day　the　pigs　were　killed　that　she　might　not　hear　their　squealing；　and　would　not　have　stepped　on　a　caterpillar　for　anything；　yet　she　did　not　care　at　all　how　much　she　made　the　brisk　Cyrus　suffer。

Then；　suddenly；　all　our　spring　gladness　and　Maytime　hopes　were　blighted　as　by　a　killing　frost。　　Sorrow　and　anxiety　pervaded　our　days　and　embittered　our　dreams　by　night。　　Grim　tragedy　held　sway　in　our　lives　for　the　next　fortnight。

Paddy　disappeared。　　One　night　he　lapped　his　new　milk　as　usual　at　Uncle　Roger's　dairy　door　and　then　sat　blandly　on　the　flat　stone　before　it；　giving　the　world　assurance　of　a　cat；　sleek　sides　glistening；　plumy　tail　gracefully　folded　around　his　paws；　brilliant　eyes　watching　the　stir　and　flicker　of　bare　willow　boughs　in　the　twilight　air　above　him。　　That　was　the　last　seen　of　him。　　In　the　morning　he　was　not。

At　first　we　were　not　seriously　alarmed。　　Paddy　was　no　roving　Thomas；　but　occasionally　he　vanished　for　a　day　or　so。　　But　when　two　days　passed　without　his　return　we　became　anxious；　the　third　day　worried　us　greatly；　and　the　fourth　found　us　distracted。

〃Something　ha