Missy | Page 6

the midday

Sunday feasts when grandpa and grandma came to eat with them. She
felt embarrassed and shy. Of course she had to answer when asked why
she wasn't eating her drumstick, and whether the green apples in
grandma's orchard had given her an "upset," and other direct questions;
but when she could, she kept silent. She was glad Pete didn't talk to her
much. Yet, now and then, she caught his eyes upon her in a look of
sardonic enquiry, and quickly averted her own.
Her unhappiness lasted till the visitors had departed. Then, after
aimlessly wandering about, she took her Holy Bible out to the
summerhouse. She was contemplating a surprise for grandpa and
grandma. Next week mother and Aunt Nettie were going over to Aunt
Anna's in Junction City for a few days; during their absence Missy was
to stay with her grandparents. And to surprise them, she was learning
by heart a whole Psalm.
She planned to spring it upon them the first night at family prayers. At
grandma's they had prayers every night before going to bed. First
grandpa read a long chapter out of the Holy Bible, then they all knelt
down, grandpa beside his big Morris chair, grandma beside her little
willow rocker, and whoever else was present beside whatever chair
he'd been sitting in. Grandpa prayed a long prayer; grandma a shorter
one; then, if any of the grandchildren were there, they must say a verse
by heart. Missy's first verse had been, "Jesus wept." But she was just a
tiny thing then. When she grew bigger, she repeated, "Suffer the little
children to come unto Me." Later she accomplished the more showy,
"In My Father's house are many mansions; I go there to prepare a place
for you."
But this would be her first whole Psalm. She pictured every one's
delighted and admiring surprise. After much deliberation she had
decided upon the Psalm in which David sings his song of faith, "The
Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want."
How beautiful it was! So deep and so hard to understand, yet, somehow,
all the more beautiful for that. She murmured aloud, "I will fear no
evil--for Thou art with me--Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me";
and wondered what the rod and staff really were.

But best of all she liked the last verse:
"Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life;
and I will dwell in the house o£ the Lord forever."
To dwell in the house of the Lord forever!--How wonderful! What was
the house of the Lord? . . . Missy leaned back in the summerhouse seat,
and gazed dreamily out at the silver-white clouds drifting lazily across
the sky; in the side-yard her nasturtium bed glowed up from the slick
green grass like a mass of flame; a breeze stirred the flame to gentle
motion and touched the ramblers on the summerhouse, shaking out
delicious scents; distantly from the backyard came the tranquil, drowsy
sounds of unseen chickens. Missy listened to the chickens; regarded
sky and flowers and green-- colours so lovely as to almost hurt
you--and sniffed the fragrant air. . . All this must be the house of the
Lord! Here, surely goodness and mercy would follow her all the days
of her life.
Thus, slowly, the marvellous new feeling stole back and took
possession of her. She could no longer bear just sitting there quiet, just
feeling. She craved some sort of expression. So she rose and moved
slowly over the slick green grass, pausing by the blazing nasturtium
bed to pick a few vivid blossoms. These she pinned to her dress; then
went very leisurely on to the house-to the parlour--to the piano--to
"Asleep in Jesus."
She played it "with expression." Her soul now seemed to be flowing
out through her fingers and to the keyboard; the music came not from
the keyboard, really, but from her soul. Rapture!
But presently her mood was rudely interrupted by mother's voice at the
door.
"Missy, Aunt Nettie's lying down with a headache. I'm afraid the piano
disturbs her."
"All right, mother."

Lingeringly Missy closed the hymnal. She couldn't forbear a little sigh.
Perhaps mother noted the sigh. Anyway, she came close and said:
"I'm sorry, dear. I think it's nice the way you've learned to play hymns."
Missy glanced up; and for a moment forgetting that grown-ups don't
always understand, she breathed:
"Oh, mother, it's HEAVENLY! You can't imagine--"
She remembered just in time, and stopped short. But mother didn't
embarrass her by asking her to explain something that couldn't be
explained in words. She only laid her hand, for a second, on the sleek
brown head. The marvellous feeling endured through the afternoon, and
through supper, and through the evening--clear