The influence which a family like the Gurneys unconsciously exert over
those brought in contact with them, was not without effect on the lives of
their next door neighbors. As Dexie was so intimate with the family, and
spent so much of her time amongst them, she was the first to feel it, and
the controlling power which governed the Gurney household was finding root
in her heart also. She did not realize this herself, but the signs were
apparent to those accustomed to look below the surface for the motive that
governs all actions.
Aunt Jennie saw more of Dexie's inner life than did her own parents. To
them she seemed the same good-natured, light-hearted girl, growing,
perhaps, a little more thoughtful and attentive than they could have
expected, considering her active nature; yet, if they had thought to
compare even the Sunday life of the household with what it had been when
they first came to Halifax, they would have been surprised at the change in
themselves.
Formerly it was the custom to spend the greater part of the Sabbath morning
in bed, and, after a late breakfast, Mr. Sherwood read the American papers
until dinner was served. In the evening a walk was indulged in, or, if a
popular preacher was announced to appear in any of the churches, he would
attend, taking some member of the family with him; but it was seldom that
Mrs. Sherwood attended public worship. As the head of the house passed the
Sabbaths in this careless fashion, the rest of the household felt free to
spend it as it pleased themselves also.
No one seemed to hold the day any more sacred than the other six, except
Aunt Jennie; but as Dexie came to note the difference in the Sunday life of
her next-door neighbors, and mentally compared it with how the day was
spent at home, she inwardly resented the feelings that would intrude
themselves, for they pointed out the fact quite plainly that there was
something needed in their lives at home which was engrafted in the
household next door; and, though she scarcely knew what to do to remedy a
difference she did not care to define even to herself, yet she silently
resolved that an outward form at least, similar to what she saw next door,
should yet be practised at home, for she could not bear the silent reproach
any longer.
When Dexie opened her heart to Aunt Jennie about it, she found that the
same thing had troubled her quiet auntie for a long time; so together they
laid plans that eventually brought about a different Sunday life from that
the family had hitherto known. Yet the change began in a very commonplace
way, too; for instead of enjoying the extra sleep that the family usually
indulged in, they were aroused one Sunday morning by repeated calls to
breakfast--calls which were hard to resist when the opened doors let in
such appetizing odors from the kitchen, where Aunt Jennie was
superintending the morning meal. And if their olfactories were closed to
this appeal, their ears were not so easily shut to the sounds that Dexie
was bringing forth from the piano, as hymns, anthems and psalms followed in
succession, and made further sleep impossible.
"What has got into you all this morning? Have you forgotten it is Sunday?"
said Mr. Sherwood, appearing at last. "How can anyone sleep with all this
racket going on, Dexie?" he added, stepping into the parlor. "What on earth
made you rout us out of bed at this hour? Why, it is not nine o'clock yet!"
"Oh! you slept long enough papa. I am sure we don't need more sleep on
Sunday morning than we do any other day. You'll not be sorry you got up
when once you have tasted some of the good things auntie has made for
breakfast," and she raised her mouth for a kiss, then led him to the table.
Gussie made her appearance in time to sit down with the rest, but she
looked cross at Dexie for having disturbed her.
"This is the first Sunday morning we have all met at the breakfast table
for months, I do believe," said Mr. Sherwood, leaning back in his chair, as
he finished the meal. "But where are the papers this morning? What! still
in the office? However am I going to pass the day without my papers?
Strange that no one thought of going for them last night."
Someone had thought of it, but had purposely forgotten again, hoping that
he might be induced to attend some place of worship in the morning, if for
no better reason than to pass the time away.
The Gurneys were members of the Episcopal Church and attended at St.
Paul's. Dexie had often accompanied them on Sundays, and had grown familiar
with the service that was, in after-life, so dear to her; but, knowing that
her father disliked that form of worship, she intended to persuade him to
attend St. Matthew's (Presbyterian), as she knew he had a great respect for
the officiating clergyman.
"Well, papa, since the time will seem long to you with nothing particular
to do, why not come with Gussie and I to hear Dr. Grant? They have a fine
choir at St. Matthew's; so we will be sure to enjoy either the sermon or
the singing, if not both."
"Oh, I'm not going out this morning, Dexie, so speak for yourself," said
Gussie. "It is a horrid bother to dress up so early in the day. I have a
nice book to read, so, if you want to go out, you can go with the Gurneys,
as usual."
"But I would rather go some place with papa," said Dexie; "and it will be
nicer to make a family party of it. Besides, I want to hear what the new
singer is like, and of course I can't go alone. You remember Cora Beverly
was talking about her, and says she has the sweetest voice she ever heard.
You will come with us, won't you, papa?" she asked, coaxingly, as she went
behind his chair and stroked his hair.
"Well, I'll see, by and by," Mr. Sherwood replied. "I may go with you this
evening, though."
"Now, papa, what will prevent you from coming this morning? I do think you
will be most unkind if you refuse, for I have set my heart on hearing that
singer. Now, do say 'yes,' papa."
"Well, you little torment, yes, then! Now, leave my hair alone, or you'll
have my head as bald as the back of my hand," holding her away at
arm's-length.
Dexie bent over and gave him a final kiss; then, turning to Gussie, said:
"Did you see how nicely I have done up your frills and laces, Gussie? That
pretty cream lace will look lovely with your new dress, if you frill it
around the neck."
"New dress, indeed! Old made over thing, you'd better call it!" was the
scornful answer.
"Well, it is too bad that it was not made up to suit you at first. Now that
it has been altered, it looks quite stylish, and becomes you splendidly,
and this is just the day to wear your new hat."
This bit of flattery had the desired effect. Gussie decided that it really
was too fine to stay indoors, so she rose from the table to begin her
preparations for church.
"Seems to me you have taken to psalm-singing very suddenly," said Gussie,
as Dexie accompanied her preparations with some song of David that was
unfamiliar to Gussie's ears.
"Oh, no! they sing psalms every Sunday at the Episcopal Church," and Dexie
hummed away with a light heart.
"But not to such tunes as that! They go hopping along on one note, like a
hen with a sore foot, and then end up altogether differently from what you
expect. Chanting is not singing, and I think it sounds ridiculous."
"Well, a hen with a sore foot would sing a mournful song, I fear; but if
you would come to St. Paul's some morning and hear them sing the _Te Deum_,
you would not think there was anything mournful about it. It sounds just
glorious! Everyone might not think so," she added, noting her sister's
scornful look; "but everyone does not admire psalm-singing after the
Presbyterian style, either. However, chant, psalm or hymn, it's all one to
me so long as I know the tunes, for I hate to stand as dumb as a post when
I go to a place of worship. Some people are content to have nothing more to
do in the service than say 'Amen' at the close of the benediction, but I
think a responsive service claims the attention of careless churchgoers,
and gives people something else to think of besides the style of the
garments of those around them."
"Well, I enjoy looking at the styles when I go to church, and I hope people
will think my hat is becoming," said outspoken Gussie; "I believe other
people put on their fine feathers on Sunday with the same object. However,
I do believe that an ugly hat is as conspicuous as a handsome one."
"Well, I suppose it is! I wonder if there is such a thing as a 'happy
medium' in trimming a hat. Dear me! what a lot of things a person has to
think of in this world!" and with a sigh she followed her sister
downstairs.
Aunt Jennie watched them depart with a prayer in her heart that some
message might reach the heart of her careless brother-in-law, and she
seemed to have had her prayer answered, for he was willing enough to attend
the same church the following Sunday.
But Gussie was not attracted either by the sermon or the singing. Something
else had to be the attraction to draw her out of a Sunday morning, unless
she was urged with a persistency that would have moved a mule in the
tantrums.
But when Mrs. Sherwood announced, one Sunday morning, that she would
accompany the rest to church, Dexie felt that her happiness was complete.
She knew it was owing to Aunt Jennie's influence that her mother had put
forth this extra exertion, and though it was Sunday, Dexie felt like
dancing a jig around the floor, for her mother had become even more
indifferent than her easy-going father in matters pertaining to religion.
In the Gurney household there was no day in the week so gladly welcomed as
the Sabbath, and of a family containing so many young children this is no
light thing to say.
In the first place, the little ones were so anxious not to lose any of the
many extra treats that this glad day afforded them, that they put on their
best behavior with their Sunday garments--and where is the person, little
or big, that does not feel more important in his best clothes, and act
accordingly.
Then instead of having breakfast in the nursery, with nurse at the head of
the table, the family met around the one table, below stairs; and to the
little ones this was a treat indeed. Having the children around him only
one day in seven made it quite a change for Mr. Gurney also, though it
wearied while it delighted him; and each succeeding Sunday he more fully
realized the blessing he possessed in his good wife, for he had none of
that patience and tact that is required to keep such a family in order.
Then on fine Sundays all the children went to church, except the two
youngest, and the advent of a new member in the family was hailed with
delight by one of the family at least; for of course a baby, however new,
counted one, and it was warmly welcomed by the one who was thus raised to
the dignity of a church-goer.
We must not forget the treat that was reserved for Sunday afternoons, for
directly after Sunday-school there was sure to be in readiness for each
member of the family a plate containing what the children called "goodies."
This was a mixture of confectionery, dates or figs, apples, nuts, pears or
oranges, or other fruits as the season might be. As Dexie Sherwood was
expected to spend this part of the day with the family, her plate was
regularly prepared with the rest; and until the time that Lancy had made
known his feelings for her, Dexie had enjoyed the _tete-a-tete_ which he
always managed to arrange in some quiet corner. Even now she was not always
able to avoid it, without being positively rude, for she could not make
Elsie see that her presence was necessary when Lancy managed to give his
sister the impression that it was otherwise; it was quite clear that Mother
Gurney saw nothing amiss in Lancy's desire to take Dexie "somewhere out of
the noise," for the little ones made much of their Sunday freedom.
It was during one of these Sunday afternoon chats that a better
understanding was arrived at between Lancy and Dexie. They were sitting in
the parlor, with a screen drawn between them and any chance observer, their
plates on a small table near them, when Dexie playfully tossed over a piece
of confectionery bearing the words, "You look unhappy."
Lancy looked up with such a tender look in his eyes that Dexie instantly
repented her action, but it was too late, and she dropped her eyes to read
the sweet messenger that fell in her lap, "You have my heart."
Dexie had no answer except, "Do forgive me," and she tossed it over with a
look in her eyes that filled Lancy with an unutterable longing to take her
in his arms.
"What shall I forgive you for?" he said, laying his hand on hers. "I am not
unhappy, only when I see how you try to avoid me. I have kept my promise,
and have not spoken a word that could annoy you. Why do you try never to be
alone with me? It is hard to forgive you for that," he said, in a low tone.
"I did not mean anything by those silly candies; I was only in fun."
"Then you don't want to be forgiven, is that it? or do you mean that you
are going to be good to me in the future?"
"I don't know what 'being good' implies, so I won't promise," she replied,
smiling.
"It means that you will not act as if you were afraid to be alone with me a
minute, and to talk to me as freely as you did before, well--before that
snowstorm. You have never put your hand on my shoulder, and asked me to
take you any place since then. You don't know how I miss the pleasant hours
we used to spend together, or the delight I felt in the pressure of the
hand that has never willingly touched mine since I spoke to you here in the
parlor. The Dexie I knew a few weeks ago seems to have gone away, and I
miss her very much, indeed."
"I can't be the same as I used to be, Lancy. Something is different, and
I'm so afraid someone will make remarks about us if we are so much together
as we used to be."
"What kind of remarks? tell me, Dexie. Something we would be ashamed to
hear?" and he smiled into her distressed face.
"You know what I mean very well, Lancy, and I couldn't bear it."
"Did you ever hear any remarks before--before that snowstorm?"
"No! I never thought there was anything to make remarks about, but I have
been looking at things differently lately."
"In what way, Dexie? Do tell me?" and he caught her hands in a firm clasp.
"Don't, Lancy! Please stop! There has been enough said and done already to
make people talk if they knew about it."
"Only a few words, and one little kiss, that was all, Dexie. If the thought
of what people might say keeps us apart, you are very foolish, for if we
were never to speak to each other again we would be accused of having had a
'lover's quarrel,' so don't keep me at a distance any longer on that
account. You are making us both miserable for nothing; for I don't believe
you are enjoying yourself a bit under the new rule that you have set up.
Confess now, are you? honor bright, Dexie?" and he looked eagerly into her
eyes.
"Well, no, Lancy," and she looked up with a smile. "It isn't quite so nice
as it used to be, and I have stayed home several times when I wanted to go
out. I am not shy, naturally, you know, and I would have asked for your
escort if there had not been reasons to prevent me. Hugh has been very
anxious to show his gallantry, but nothing would tempt me to go three steps
with that big Frenchman."
"Well, I wish Hugh could hear you say that, Dexie, for I was beginning to
feel jealous. He talks so much about you I was afraid he had entered the
lists against me."
"Lancy, what nonsense you talk! Hugh is Gussie's particular property. What
made you fancy that I had stepped into her shoes?"
"Nothing that need vex you, Dexie, so don't frown; but he told me in
confidence, you know, that you were--but there; it was in confidence, so I
won't repeat what he said. I know he cares more for you than for Gussie,
and the fact don't please me very well."
Dexie was silent for some minutes. The remembrance of certain looks and
speeches that Hugh had lately addressed to her were now explained; he
thought she had quarrelled with Lancy, and he was anxious to take Lancy's
place. She lifted her eyes, saying:
"Hugh shall have no chance to think any such a thing. But I know how it has
happened. Gussie had no eyes for anyone else while that Plaisted was here,
so I had to entertain Hugh occasionally; but dear me! how soft he must be,
if my foolish songs have turned his brain."
And then, looking shyly into his eyes, she added, "I won't run away from
you any more, Lancy. We will go back to our old ways, but don't talk any
more nonsense to me, and we will be chums again. Is it a bargain, Lancy?"
Lancy bent nearer to the curly head that was bent to hide her blushing
face, then, seizing her hands, held her close as he whispered, in a tender
voice:
"That's my Dexie back again! I won't annoy you with words, but you know
what my feelings are for you all the same. Now, seal the bargain, Dexie,"
and he turned her face to his.
Well, the perversity of girls! is there anything equal to it? Must it
really be confessed that the girl who thought that one little stolen kiss
was worth crying over should raise her pretty mouth to receive a much
longer caress; yes, and enjoy it, too! But there! come to think of it, that
first kiss in the parlor was a one-sided affair, reluctantly received; and
a one-sided kiss is like--is like--well, whatever is it like? We give it
up!