Emily of New Moon Read Online Free PDF Page B

chance of doing her duty, “and that is to kneel down and pray to God to make you a good and respectful and grateful child.”
    Emily paused at the foot of the stairs and looked back.
    â€œFather said I wasn’t to have anything to do with your God,” she said gravely.
    Ellen gasped foolishly, but could not think of any reply to this heathenish statement. She appealed to the universe.
    â€œDid anyone ever hear the like!”
    â€œI know what your God is like.” said Emily. “I saw His picture in that Adam-and-Eve book of yours. He has whiskers and wears a nightgown. I don’t like Him. But I like Father’s God.”
    â€œAnd what is your father’s God like, if I may ask?” demanded Ellen sarcastically.
    Emily hadn’t any idea what Father’s God was like, but she was determined not to be posed by Ellen.
    â€œHe is clear as the moon, fair as the sun, and terrible as an army with banner,” she said triumphantly.
    â€œWell, you’re bound to have the last word, but the Murrays will teach you what’s what,” said Ellen, giving up the argument. “They’re strict Presbyterians and won’t hold by any of your father’s awful notions. Get off upstairs.”
    Emily went up to the south room, feeling very desolate.
    â€œThere isn’t anybody in the world who loves me now,” she said, as she curled up on her bed by the window. But she was determined she would not cry. The Murrays, who had hated her father, should not see her crying. She felt that she detested them all—except perhaps Aunt Laura. How very big and empty the world had suddenly become. Nothing was interesting any more. It did not matter that the little squat apple tree between Adam-and-Eve had become a thing of rose-and-snow beauty—that the hills beyond the hollow were of green silk, purple-misted—that the daffodils were out in the garden—that the birches were hung all over with golden tassels—that the Wind Woman was blowing white young clouds across the sky. None of these things had any charm or consolation for her now. In her inexperience she believed they never would have again.
    â€œBut I promised Father I’d be brave,” she whispered, clenching her little fists, “and I will. And I won’t let the Murrays see I’m afraid of them—I won’t be afraid of them!”
    When the far-off whistle of the afternoon train blew beyond the hills, Emily’s heart began to beat. She clasped her hands and lifted her face.
    â€œPlease help me, Father’s God— not Ellen’s God,” she said. “Help me to be brave and not cry before the Murrays.”
    Soon after there was the sound of wheels below—and voices—loud, decided voices. Then Ellen came puffing up the stairs with the black dress—a sleazy thing of cheap merino.
    â€œMrs. Hubbard just got it done in time, thanks be. I wouldn’t ’a’ had the Murrays see you not in black for the world. They can’t say I haven’t done my duty. They’re all here—the New Moon people and Oliver and his wife, your Aunt Addie, and Wallace and his wife, your Aunt Eva, and Aunt Ruth—Mrs. Dutton, her name is. There, you’re ready now. Come along.”
    â€œCan’t I put my Venetian beads on?” asked Emily.
    â€œDid ever any mortal! Venetian beads with a mourning dress! Shame on you! Is this a time to be thinking of vanity?”
    â€œIt isn’t vanity!” cried Emily. “Father gave me those beads last Christmas—and I want to show the Murrays that I’ve got something !”
    â€œNo more of your nonsense! Come along, I say! Mind your manners—there’s a good deal depends on the impression you make on them.”
    Emily walked rigidly downstairs before Ellen and into the parlor. Eight people were sitting around it—and she instantly felt the critical gaze of sixteen stranger eyes. She