The Story Girl told us this one day in the . There was a little in her tone, but more regret. The news was not a great surprise to us. We had felt it in the air ever since Uncle Blair’s arrival. Aunt Janet had been very to let the Story Girl go. But Uncle Blair was inexorable. It was time, he said, that she should go to a better school than the little country one in Carlisle; and besides, he did not want her to grow into womanhood a stranger to him. So it was finally that she was to go.
“Just think, you are going to Europe,” said Sara Ray in an awe-struck tone. “Won’t that be splendid!”
“I suppose I’ll like it after a while,” said the Story Girl slowly, “but I know I’ll be dreadfully homesick at first. Of course, it will be lovely to be with father, but oh, I’ll miss the rest of you so much!”
“Just think how WE’LL miss YOU,” sighed Cecily. “It will be so lonesome here this winter, with you and Peter both gone. Oh, dear, I do wish things didn’t have to change.”
Felicity said nothing. She kept looking down at the grass on which she sat, absently pulling at the slender blades. Presently we saw two big tears roll down over her cheeks. The Story Girl looked surprised.
“Are you crying because I’m going away, Felicity?” she asked.
“Of course I am,” answered Felicity, with a big . “Do you think I’ve no f-f-eeling?”
“I didn’t think you’d care much,” said the Story Girl . “You’ve never seemed to like me very much.”
“I d-don’t wear my h-heart on my sleeve,” said poor Felicity, with an attempt at dignity. “I think you m-might stay. Your father would let you s-stay if you c-coaxed him.”
“Well, you see I’d have to go some time,” sighed the Story Girl, “and the longer it was put off the harder it would be. But I do feel dreadfully about it. I can’t even take poor Paddy. I’ll have to leave him behind, and oh, I want you all to promise to be kind to him for my sake.”
We all solemnly assured her that we would.
“I’ll g-give him cream every m-morning and n-night,” Felicity, “but I’ll never be able to look at him without crying. He’ll make me think of you.”
“Well, I’m not going right away,” said the Story Girl, more cheerfully. “Not till the last of October. So we have over a month yet to have a good time in. Let’s all just determine to make it a splendid month for the last. We won’t think about my going at all till we have to, and we won’t have any quarrels among us, and we’ll just enjoy ourselves all we possibly can. So don’t cry any more, Felicity. I’m glad you do like me and am sorry I’m going away, but let’s all forget it for a month.”
Felicity sighed, and tucked away her damp handkerchief.
“It isn’t so easy for me to forget things, but I’ll try,” she said , “and if you want any more cooking lessons before you go I’ll be real glad to teach you anything I know.”
This was a high plane of self-sacrifice for Felicity to . But the Story Girl shook her head.
“No, I’m not going to bother my head about cooking lessons this last month. It’s too .”
“Do you remember the time you made the pudding—” began Peter, and suddenly stopped.
“Out of sawdust?” finished the Story Girl cheerfully. “You needn’t be afraid to mention it to me after this. I don’t mind any more. I begin to see the fun of it now. I should think I do remember it—and the time I baked the bread before it was raised enough.”
“People have made worse mistakes than that,” said Felicity .
“Such as using tooth-powd—” but here Dan stopped , remembering the Story Girl’s plea for a beautiful month. Felicity coloured, but said nothing—did not even LOOK anything.
“We HAVE had lots of fun together one way or another,” said Cecily, retrospectively.
“Just think how much we’ve laughed this last year or so,” said the Story Girl. “We’ve had good times together; but I think we’ll have lots more splendid years ahead.”
“Eden is always behind us—Paradise always before,” said Uncle Blair, coming up in time to hear her. He said it with a sigh that was immediately lost in one of his smiles.
“I like Uncle Blair so much better than I expected to,” Felicity
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