Missy | Page 9

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, went on:
"I know, grandpa--but she's such a funny little dingbat! And now, that she's turned pious--"
Grandpa interrupted him with a gesture of the hand.
"I said that'd do, Peter. If you'd find some time to attend prayers instead of cavorting round over town, it wouldn't hurt you any."
Then grandma, who, though she was fond of Missy, was fond of Pete also, joined in defensively:
"Pete hasn't been cavorting round over town, grandpa--he's just been over to the Curriers'."
At that Missy turned interested eyes upon her big cousin. He'd been calling on Polly Currier again! Polly Currier was one of the prettiest big girls in Cherryvale. Missy gazed at Pete, so handsome in his stylish-looking blue serge coat and sharply creased white ducks, debonairly twirling the bamboo walking-stick which the Cherryvale boys, half-enviously, twitted him about, and felt the wings of Romance whirring in the already complicated air. For this additional element of interest he furnished, she could almost forgive him his scoffing attitude toward her own most serious affairs.
But Pete, fortunately for his complacency, didn't suspect the reason for her concentrated though friendly gaze.
All in all, Missy felt quite at peace when she went upstairs. Grandma tucked her into bed--the big, extraordinarily soft feather- bed which was one of the outstanding features of grandma's fascinating house.
And there--wonder of wonders!--the moon, through