Part 14 (1/2)

Chapter XIII

The Way of Transgressors

Davy and Dora were ready for Sunday School. They were going alone, which did not often happen, for Mrs. Lynde always attended Sunday School. But Mrs. Lynde had twisted her ankle and was lame, so she was staying home this morning. The twins were also to represent the family at church, for Anne had gone away the evening before to spend Sunday with friends in Carmody, 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 own preparations. He had a cent in his pocket for the Sunday School collection, and a five-cent piece for the church collection; he carried his Bible in one hand and his Sunday School quarterly in the other; he knew his lesson and his Golden Text and his catechism question perfectly. Had he not studied them--perforce--in Mrs. Lynde's kitchen, all last Sunday afternoon? Davy, therefore, should have been in a placid frame of mind. As a matter of fact, despite text and catechism, he was inwardly 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 Davy would likely take to his heels and she could not pursue him today.

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

Davy deigned no response. He marched away down the lane, followed by the meek Dora. But his soul seethed within. Davy had suffered, or thought he had suffered, many things at the hands and tongue of Mrs. Rachel Lynde since she had come to Green Gables, for Mrs. Lynde could not live with anybody, whether they were nine or ninety, without trying to bring them up properly. And it was only the preceding afternoon that she had interfered to influence Marilla against allowing Davy to go fis.h.i.+ng with the Timothy Cottons. Davy was still boiling over this.

As soon as he was out of the lane Davy stopped and twisted his countenance into such an unearthly and terrific contortion that Dora, although she knew his gifts in that respect, was honestly alarmed lest he 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,” pleaded Dora.

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

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

”G.o.d will punish you if you do,” said Dora solemnly.

”Then I think G.o.d is a mean old scamp,” retorted Davy. ”Doesn't He know a fellow must have some way of 'spressing his feelings?”

”Davy!!!” said Dora. She expected that Davy would be struck down dead on the 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, but SHE 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 fascination of horror, Davy stepped off the green gra.s.s of the roadside, ankle deep into the fine dust which four weeks of rainless weather had made on the road, and marched along in it, shuffling his feet viciously until he was enveloped in a hazy cloud.

”That's the beginning,” he announced triumphantly. ”And I'm going to stop in the porch and talk as long as there's anybody there to talk to. I'm going to squirm and wriggle and whisper, and I'm going to say I don't know the Golden Text. And I'm going to throw away both of my collections RIGHT NOW.”