“No, I haven’t done anything naughty—yet. But I want to do it.”
“What is it, Davy?”
“I—I want to say a bad word, Anne,” blurted out Davy, with a desperate
effort. “I heard Mr. Harrison’s hired boy say it one day last week, and ever since
I’ve been wanting to say it ALL the time—even when I’m saying my prayers.”
“Say it then, Davy.”
Davy lifted his flushed face in amazement.
“But, Anne, it’s an AWFUL bad word.”
“SAY IT!”
Davy gave her another incredulous look, then in a low voice he said the
dreadful word. The next minute his face was burrowing against her.
“Oh, Anne, I’ll never say it again—never. I’ll never WANT to say it again. I
knew it was bad, but I didn’t s’pose it was so—so—I didn’t s’pose it was like
THAT.”
“No, I don’t think you’ll ever want to say it again, Davy—or think it, either.
And I wouldn’t go about much with Mr. Harrison’s hired boy if I were you.”
“He can make bully war-whoops,” said Davy a little regretfully.
“But you don’t want your mind filled with bad words, do you, Davy—words
that will poison it and drive out all that is good and manly?”
“No,” said Davy, owl-eyed with introspection.
“Then don’t go with those people who use them. And now do you feel as if
you could say your prayers, Davy?”
“Oh, yes,” said Davy, eagerly wriggling down on his knees, “I can say them
now all right. I ain’t scared now to say ‘if I should die before I wake,’ like I was
when I was wanting to say that word.”
Probably Anne and Diana did empty out their souls to each other that night,
but no record of their confidences has been preserved. They both looked as fresh
and bright-eyed at breakfast as only youth can look after unlawful hours of
revelry and confession. There had been no snow up to this time, but as Diana
crossed the old log bridge on her homeward way the white flakes were
beginning to flutter down over the fields and woods, russet and gray in their
dreamless sleep. Soon the far-away slopes and hills were dim and wraith-like
through their gauzy scarfing, as if pale autumn had flung a misty bridal veil over
her hair and was waiting for her wintry bridegroom. So they had a white
Christmas after all, and a very pleasant day it was. In the forenoon letters and