Even Sadie must enjoy church. For one day she missed in every lesson and lost her temper and cried; next day she brought a note from her mamma, and then she told Emmy Lou about it; it asked that Sadie be excused for missing, for because of the Revival at her church, Sadie would be up late every night.

Mr. Bryan was in the room when Miss f.a.n.n.y read this note. She handed it to him.

"To each year its evils, I suppose," said Miss f.a.n.n.y; "to the Primer its whooping-cough and measles, to the First Reader the shedding of its incisors. With the Fifth Reader comes the inoculation of doctrines. We are living the Ten Great Religions."

Mr. Bryan laid the note down. He said he must caution Miss f.a.n.n.y that, as Princ.i.p.al or as Teacher, neither he nor she had anything to do with the religions of the children intrusted to their care. And he must remind Miss f.a.n.n.y that these problems of school life could not be met with levity. He hoped Miss f.a.n.n.y would take this as he meant it, kindly.

The cla.s.s listened breathlessly. Was Miss f.a.n.n.y treating their religions with levity? What is levity?

It was Emmy Lou who asked the others when they sought to pin the accusation to Miss f.a.n.n.y.

Mary Agatha looked it up in the Dictionary. Then she reported: "Lightness of conduct, want of weight, inconstancy, vanity, frivolity."

She told it off with low and accusing enunciation.

It sounded grave. Emmy Lou was troubled. Could Miss f.a.n.n.y be all this?

Could she be guilty of levity?

It was soon after that Mary Agatha brought a note; she told Rosalie and Emmy Lou about it; it asked that Mary Agatha be allowed a seat to herself. This, Mary Agatha explained, was because, preparatory to Confirmation, she was trying to keep her mind from secular things, and a seat to herself would help her to do it.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Mary Agatha was as one already apart from things secular."]

To Rosalie and Emmy Lou, Mary Agatha was as one already apart from things secular. To them the look on her clear, pale little profile was already rapt.

But Mary Agatha went on to tell them why she was different from Kitty or Nora, or the others of her Confirmation Cla.s.s. It was because she was going to be a Bride of Heaven.

Rosalie listened, awed. But Emmy Lou did not quite understand.

Mary Agatha looked pityingly at her. "You know what a bride is? And you know what's Heaven?"

The bell rang. Emmy Lou returned to the mental eminence of her Fifth Reader heights, still hazy. Yet she hardly needed the Dictionary, for she knew a bride. Aunt Katie had been a bride. With a diamond star. And presents. And Emmy Lou knew Heaven.

Though lately Emmy Lou's ideas of Heaven had broadened. Hitherto, Heaven, conceived of the primitive, primary mind, had been a matter of vague numbers seated in parallel rows, answering to something akin to Roll Call, and awarded accordingly. But lately, a birthday had brought Emmy Lou a book called "Tanglewood Tales." And Heaven had since taken on an Olympian colouring and diversity more complex and perplexing.

Miss f.a.n.n.y read Mary Agatha's note, and looking down at her said that she wondered, since every desk was in use in its dual capacity, if Mary Agatha were to devote herself quite closely to reducing pounds to pence, would it not be possible for her to forget her nearness to things secular?

Mary Agatha was poor in Arithmetic. And Miss f.a.n.n.y was laughing in her eyes. Was Miss f.a.n.n.y laughing at Mary Agatha?

Mary Agatha cried at recess. She said her Papa furnished pokers and tongs and shovels and dust-pans for the public schools, and he would see to it that she had a seat to herself if she wanted it.

But when the cla.s.s went up from recess, there was a seat for Mary Agatha. Miss f.a.n.n.y had sent the note down to Mr. Bryan, and he had arranged it. It was a table from the office, and a stool. For want of other place, they stood beneath the blackboard in front of the cla.s.s. It was a high stool.

Being told, Mary Agatha gathered her books together and went and climbed upon her stool, apart from things secular.

Miss f.a.n.n.y turned to Mr. Bryan. "For the propagation of infant Saint Stylites," said Miss f.a.n.n.y.

"Ur-r--exactly," said Mr. Bryan. He said it a little, perhaps, doubtfully.

Suddenly Mr. Bryan grew red. He had caught Miss f.a.n.n.y's eyes laughing, and saw her mouth twitching. Was Miss f.a.n.n.y laughing at Mr. Bryan? What about?

Mr. Bryan went out. He closed the door. It closed sharply.

Then everything came at once. Hot weather, and roses and syringa piling Miss f.a.n.n.y's desk, and Reviews for Examination, and Confirmations.

Mary Agatha asked them to her confirmation. Rosalie and Emmy Lou went.

The great doors at Mary Agatha's church opened and closed behind them; it was high and dim; there were twinkling lights and silence, and awe, and colour. Something quivered. It burst forth. It was music. It was almost as if it hurt. One drew a deep breath and shut one's eyes a moment because it hurt; then one opened them. The aisles were filled with little girls in misty white and floating veils, stealing forward.

And Mary Agatha was among them.

Rosalie told Emmy Lou she meant some day to belong to Mary Agatha's church. Emmy Lou thought she would, too.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "And Mary Agatha was among them."]

But afterward Emmy Lou found herself wavering. Was Emmy Lou's a sordid soul? For next came Confirmation at the Synagogue, and that, it seemed, meant presents. Gertie wore to school a locket on a glittering chain; Rebecca showed a new ring. Emmy Lou's faith was wavering.

About this time Miss f.a.n.n.y spoke her mind. Because of excuses and absences, because of abstractions and absorptions, Miss f.a.n.n.y said marks were low; and she reminded them of Examination for the Grammar School near at hand. Then she asked a little girl named Sally why she had failed to hand in her Composition.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Gertie wore to school a locket on a glittering chain; Rebecca showed a new ring."]

Sally said her church was having a season of prayer, and her Mother said Sally was old enough now to go, and as it was both afternoons and evenings, Sally had had no time to write a Composition.

Miss f.a.n.n.y told Sally to remain in at recess and write it. Mr. Bryan had inquired for her Composition.

Sally remained in tears. The subject for her Composition was "Duty."

Miss f.a.n.n.y put her hand on Sally's shoulder and said something about a divided duty. And Sally cried some more, and Miss f.a.n.n.y sat down at the desk and helped her.

Emmy Lou saw it. She had come upstairs, in a moment of doubt and perplexity, to consult the Dictionary; the word was _heretic_.

It was this way. They had been in a group at recess and Mary Agatha was dividing her b.u.t.ton-string. Mary Agatha said she had given up worldly things, and it would be a sin for her to own a b.u.t.ton-string.

She offered Hattie a b.u.t.ton. Hattie refused it; she said if it was a sin to own a b.u.t.ton-string, why should Mary Agatha offer her b.u.t.tons to other people? And she walked off. Hattie had an uncompromising way of putting things. Hattie was a Presbyterian.

Emmy Lou felt anxious; she had been offered a b.u.t.ton first and had taken it gratefully, for her b.u.t.ton-string was short.

But Mary Agatha a.s.sured her that she and Hattie and the others of the group could own b.u.t.ton-strings where Mary Agatha could not. A mere matter of a b.u.t.ton-string made small difference. They were Heretics.

Rosalie put her arm about Emmy Lou. Being High Church, she did not take it to herself; she took it for Emmy Lou.

Emmy Lou hesitated. Ought she to be offended? Was she a Heretic? Emmy Lou was cautious, for she had contradicted Hattie about being an Animal, and then had to confess on paper that such she was.

But Sadie had no doubts. Sadie, following the revival, had joined the church, and she felt she knew where she stood. "I'd have you know," said Sadie, "I'm a Christian," and Sadie began to cry.

Rebecca Steinau lifted her black eyes. She gave her beringed little hand a dramatic and conclusive wave. "You're all of you Gentiles," said Rebecca.

Emmy Lou left the group. As Animal, Biped, Intermediate, Low Church, Episcopalian, Gentile, and possible Heretic, she went upstairs to seek the Dictionary. It was a moment of doubt and perplexity; with labouring absorption she and her index finger pored over the page.

"One whose errors are doctrinal and usually of a malignant character--"

Ought she to be offended?