Part 16 (1/2)
”WHAT is it you did?”
Out it all came in a rush.
”I run away from Sunday School--and went fis.h.i.+ng with the Cottons--and I told ever so many whoppers to Mrs. Lynde--oh! 'most half a dozen--and--and--I--I said a swear word, Anne--a pretty near swear word, anyhow--and I called G.o.d names.”
There was silence. Davy didn't know what to make of it. Was Anne so shocked 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 punis.h.i.+ng you, Davy.”
”What's my conscience? I want to know.”
”It's something in you, Davy, that always tells you when you are doing wrong and makes you unhappy if you persist in doing it. Haven't you noticed that?”
”Yes, but I didn't know what it was. I wish I didn't have it. I'd have lots more fun. Where is my conscience, Anne? I want to know. Is it in my stomach?”
”No, it's in your soul,” answered Anne, thankful for the darkness, since gravity must be preserved in serious matters.
”I s'pose I can't get clear of it then,” said Davy with a sigh. ”Are you going to tell Marilla and Mrs. Lynde on me, Anne?”
”No, dear, I'm not going to tell any one. You are sorry you were naughty, 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 falsehoods to cover up your sins?”
”No. It doesn't pay,” said Davy.
”Well, Davy, just tell G.o.d 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 G.o.d does or not.”
”Davy!”