“We’ve just got to punish ourselves good
and hard for this,” whispered Jerry as they
crept upstairs. “We’ll have a session
of the Club first thing tomorrow and decide how we’ll
do it. I never saw father so cut up. But
I wish to goodness the Methodists would stick to one
night for their prayer meeting and not wander all
over the week.”
“Anyhow, I’m glad it wasn’t what
I was afraid it was,” murmured Una to herself.
Behind them, in the study, Mr. Meredith had sat down
at his desk and buried his face in his arms.
“God help me!” he said. “I’m
a poor sort of father. Oh, Rosemary! If
you had only cared!”
The Good-Conduct Club had a special session the next
morning before school. After various suggestions,
it was decided that a fast day would be an appropriate
punishment.
“We won’t eat a single thing for a whole
day,” said Jerry. “I’m kind
of curious to see what fasting is like, anyhow.
This will be a good chance to find out.”
“What day will we choose for it?” asked
Una, who thought it would he quite an easy punishment
and rather wondered that Jerry and Faith had not devised
something harder.
“Let’s pick Monday,” said Faith.
“We mostly have a pretty FILLING dinner on
Sundays, and Mondays meals never amount to much anyhow.”
“But that’s just the point,” exclaimed
Jerry. “We mustn’t take the easiest
day to fast, but the hardest—and that’s
Sunday, because, as you say, we mostly have roast
beef that day instead of cold ditto. It wouldn’t
be much punishment to fast from ditto. Let’s
take next Sunday. It will be a good day, for
father is going to exchange for the morning service
with the Upper Lowbridge minister. Father will
be away till evening. If Aunt Martha wonders
what’s got into us, we’ll tell her right
up that we’re fasting for the good of our souls,
and it is in the Bible and she is not to interfere,
and I guess she won’t.”
Aunt Martha did not. She merely said in her
fretful mumbling way, “What foolishness are
you young rips up to now?” and thought no more
about it. Mr. Meredith had gone away early in
the morning before any one was up. He went without
his breakfast, too, but that was, of course, of common
occurrence. Half of the time he forgot it and
there was no one to remind him of it. Breakfast—Aunt
Martha’s breakfast—was not a hard
meal to miss. Even the hungry “young rips”
did not feel it any great deprivation to abstain from
the “lumpy porridge and blue milk” which
had aroused the scorn of Mary Vance. But it was
different at dinner time. They were furiously
hungry then, and the odor of roast beef which pervaded
the manse, and which was wholly delightful in spite
of the fact that the roast beef was badly underdone,
was almost more than they could stand. In desperation
they rushed to the graveyard where they couldn’t
smell it. But Una could not keep her eyes from
the dining room window, through which the Upper Lowbridge
minister could be seen, placidly eating.
