Chapter XIII
The Way of Transgressors
Davy and Dora were ready for Sunday School. They were going alone, which
did not often happen, for Mrs. Lynde always attended Sunday School. But Mrs.
Lynde had twisted her ankle and was lame, so she was staying home this
morning. The twins were also to represent the family at church, for Anne had
gone away the evening before to spend Sunday with friends in Carmody, and
Marilla had one of her headaches.
Davy came downstairs slowly. Dora was waiting in the hall for him, having
been made ready by Mrs. Lynde. Davy had attended to his own preparations. He
had a cent in his pocket for the Sunday School collection, and a five-cent piece
for the church collection; he carried his Bible in one hand and his Sunday School
quarterly in the other; he knew his lesson and his Golden Text and his catechism
question perfectly. Had he not studied them—perforce—in Mrs. Lynde’s
kitchen, all last Sunday afternoon? Davy, therefore, should have been in a placid
frame of mind. As a matter of fact, despite text and catechism, he was inwardly
as a ravening wolf.
Mrs. Lynde limped out of her kitchen as he joined Dora.
“Are you clean?” she demanded severely.
“Yes—all of me that shows,” Davy answered with a defiant scowl.
Mrs. Rachel sighed. She had her suspicions about Davy’s neck and ears. But
she knew that if she attempted to make a personal examination Davy would
likely take to his heels and she could not pursue him today.
“Well, be sure you behave yourselves,” she warned them. “Don’t walk in the
dust. Don’t stop in the porch to talk to the other children. Don’t squirm or
wriggle in your places. Don’t forget the Golden Text. Don’t lose your collection
or forget to put it in. Don’t whisper at prayer time, and don’t forget to pay
attention to the sermon.”
Davy deigned no response. He marched away down the lane, followed by the
meek Dora. But his soul seethed within. Davy had suffered, or thought he had
suffered, many things at the hands and tongue of Mrs. Rachel Lynde since she