But I felt
already a change in the mental atmosphere surrounding me, and all
through supper I was thrilled with a secret exultation.
Repentant? Ashamed? Not a bit of it! I'd have done the same
thing over again, and all I felt sorry for was that I hadn't done
it long ago.
When I got home that night Nancy looked at me wonderingly, and
said:
"You look like a girl to-night, Miss Charlotte."
"I feel like one," I said laughing; and I ran to my room and did
what I had never done before--wrote a second poem in the same
day. I had to have some outlet for my feelings. I called it "In
Summer Days of Long Ago," and I worked Mary Gillespie's roses and
Cecil Fenwick's eyes into it, and made it so sad and reminiscent
and minor-musicky that I felt perfectly happy.
For the next two months all went well and merrily. Nobody ever
said anything more to me about Cecil Fenwick, but the girls all
chattered freely to me of their little love affairs, and I became
a sort of general confidant for them. It just warmed up the
cockles of my heart, and I began to enjoy the Sewing Circle
famously. I got a lot of pretty new dresses and the dearest hat,
and I went everywhere I was asked and had a good time.
But there is one thing you can be perfectly sure of. If you do
wrong you are going to be punished for it sometime, somehow and
somewhere. My punishment was delayed for two months, and then it
descended on my head and I was crushed to the very dust.
Pages:
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42