Missy | Page 9

said grandpa when she had finished. There was a
suspicious brightness in his eyes. And a suspicious brightness in
grandma's, too. So, though she wasn't unhappy at all, she felt her own
eyes grow moist. Grandpa and grandma weren't really unhappy, either.
Why, when people are not really unhappy at all, do their eyes fill just of
themselves?
And now was the moment of the great surprise at hand. Missy could
scarcely wait. It must be admitted that, during the interminable time
that grandpa was reading his chapter--it was even a longer chapter than
usual to-night--and while grandma was reading her shorter one, Missy
was not attending. She was repeating to herself the Twenty-third Psalm.
And even when they all knelt, grandpa beside the big Morris chair and
grandma beside the little willow rocker and Missy beside the "patent
rocker" with the prettiest crocheted tidy-- her thoughts were still in a
divine channel exclusively her own.
But now, at last, came the time for that channel to be widened; she
closed her eyes tighter, clasped her hands together, and began:
"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want, He maketh me to lie down
in green pastures; he leadeth me beside the still waters. . ."
How beautiful it was! Unconsciously her voice lifted--quavered--
lowered--lifted again, with "expression." And she had the oddest
complex sensation; she could, through her tightly closed eyes, vision
herself kneeling there; while, at the same time, she could feel her spirit
floating away, mingling with the air, melting into the night, fusing with
all the divine mystery of heaven and earth. And her soul yearned for
more mystery, for more divinity, with an inexpressible yearning.
Yet all the time she was conscious of the dramatic figure she made, and
of how pleased and impressed her audience must be; in fact, as her
voice "tremuloed" on that last sublime "Surely goodness and mercy
shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of
the Lord forever," she unclosed one eye to note the effect.

Both the grey heads remained prayerfully bent; but at her "Amen" both
of them lifted. And oh! what a reward was the expression in those two
pairs of eyes!
Grandma came swiftly to her and kissed her, and exclaimed:
"Why, however did you learn all that long Psalm, dear? And you
recited it so beautifully, too!--Not a single mistake! I never was prouder
in my life!"
Grandpa didn't kiss her, but he kept saying over and over:
"Just think of that baby!--the dear little baby."
And Missy, despite her spiritual exaltation, couldn't help feeling
tremendously pleased.
"It was a surprise--I thought you'd be surprised," she remarked with
satisfaction.
Grandma excitedly began to ask all kinds of questions as to how Missy
came to pick out that particular Psalm, and what difficulties she
experienced in learning it all; but it was grandpa who, characteristically,
enquired:
"And what does it mean to you, Missy?"
"Mean--?" she repeated.
"Yes. For instance, what docs that last verse mean?"
"'Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life- -?'
That--?"
"Yes, baby."
"Why, I think I see myself walking through some big, thick woods. It's
springtime, and the trees are all green, and the grass slick and soft. And
birds are singing, and the wind's singing in the leaves, too. And the

sun's shining, and all the clouds have silver edges."
She paused.
"Yes, dear," said grandpa.
"That's the house of the Lord," she explained.
"Yes, dear," said grandpa again. "What else?"
"Well, I'm skipping and jumping along, for I'm happy to be in the house
of the Lord. And there are three little fairies, all dressed in silver and
gold, and with paper-flowers in their hair, and long diamond bangles
hanging like fringe on their skirts. They're following me, and they're
skipping and jumping, too. They're the three fairies in the verse."
"The three fairies?" Grandpa seemed puzzled.
Yes. It says 'Surely goodness and mercy,' you know."
"But that makes only two, doesn't it?" said grandpa, still puzzled.
Missy laughed at his stupidity.
"Why, no!--Three!" She counted them off on her fingers: "Surely--and
Goodness--and Mercy. Don't you see?"
"Oh, yes, dear--I see now," said grandpa, very slowly. "I wasn't
counting Surely."
Just then came a chuckle from the doorway. Missy hadn't seen Pete
enter, else she would have been less free in revealing her real thoughts.
What had he overheard?
Still laughing, Pete advanced into the room.
"So there's a fairy named 'Surely,' is there? What's the colour of her
eyes, Missy?"

Missy shrank a little closer into the haven of grandpa's knees. And
grandpa, in the severe voice that made the other children stand in awe
of him, said:
"That will do, Peter!"
But Peter, unawed,