The Golden Road

  CHAPTER IV. NEW YEAR RESOLUTIONS

  If we did not have a white Christmas we had a white New Year. Midwaybetween the two came a heavy snowfall. It was winter in our orchard ofold delights then,--so truly winter that it was hard to believe summerhad ever dwelt in it, or that spring would ever return to it. There wereno birds to sing the music of the moon; and the path where the appleblossoms had fallen were heaped with less fragrant drifts. But it was aplace of wonder on a moonlight night, when the snowy arcades shonelike avenues of ivory and crystal, and the bare trees cast fairy-liketraceries upon them. Over Uncle Stephen's Walk, where the snow hadfallen smoothly, a spell of white magic had been woven. Taintless andwonderful it seemed, like a street of pearl in the new Jerusalem.

  On New Year's Eve we were all together in Uncle Alec's kitchen, whichwas tacitly given over to our revels during the winter evenings. TheStory Girl and Peter were there, of course, and Sara Ray's mother hadallowed her to come up on condition that she should be home by eightsharp. Cecily was glad to see her, but the boys never hailed her arrivalwith over-much delight, because, since the dark began to come downearly, Aunt Janet always made one of us walk down home with her. Wehated this, because Sara Ray was always so maddeningly self-consciousof having an escort. We knew perfectly well that next day in school shewould tell her chums as a "dead" secret that "So-and-So King saw herhome" from the hill farm the night before. Now, seeing a young lady homefrom choice, and being sent home with her by your aunt or mother are twoentirely different things, and we thought Sara Ray ought to have senseenough to know it.

  Outside there was a vivid rose of sunset behind the cold hills of fir,and the long reaches of snowy fields glowed fairily pink in the westernlight. The drifts along the edges of the meadows and down the lanelooked as if a series of breaking waves had, by the lifting of amagician's wand, been suddenly transformed into marble, even to theirtoppling curls of foam.

  Slowly the splendour died, giving place to the mystic beauty of a wintertwilight when the moon is rising. The hollow sky was a cup of blue. Thestars came out over the white glens and the earth was covered with akingly carpet for the feet of the young year to press.

  "I'm so glad the snow came," said the Story Girl. "If it hadn't the NewYear would have seemed just as dingy and worn out as the old. There'ssomething very solemn about the idea of a New Year, isn't there? Justthink of three hundred and sixty-five whole days, with not a thinghappened in them yet."

  "I don't suppose anything very wonderful will happen in them," saidFelix pessimistically. To Felix, just then, life was flat, stale andunprofitable because it was his turn to go home with Sara Ray.

  "It makes me a little frightened to think of all that may happen inthem," said Cecily. "Miss Marwood says it is what we put into a year,not what we get out of it, that counts at last."

  "I'm always glad to see a New Year," said the Story Girl. "I wish wecould do as they do in Norway. The whole family sits up until midnight,and then, just as the clock is striking twelve, the father opens thedoor and welcomes the New Year in. Isn't it a pretty custom?"

  "If ma would let us stay up till twelve we might do that too," said Dan,"but she never will. I call it mean."

  "If I ever have children I'll let them stay up to watch the New Yearin," said the Story Girl decidedly.

  "So will I," said Peter, "but other nights they'll have to go to bed atseven."

  "You ought to be ashamed, speaking of such things," said Felicity, witha scandalized face.

  Peter shrank into the background abashed, no doubt believing that he hadbroken some Family Guide precept all to pieces.

  "I didn't know it wasn't proper to mention children," he mutteredapologetically.

  "We ought to make some New Year resolutions," suggested the Story Girl."New Year's Eve is the time to make them."

  "I can't think of any resolutions I want to make," said Felicity, whowas perfectly satisfied with herself.

  "I could suggest a few to you," said Dan sarcastically.

  "There are so many I would like to make," said Cecily, "that I'm afraidit wouldn't be any use trying to keep them all."

  "Well, let's all make a few, just for the fun of it, and see if we cankeep them," I said. "And let's get paper and ink and write them out.That will make them seem more solemn and binding."

  "And then pin them up on our bedroom walls, where we'll see them everyday," suggested the Story Girl, "and every time we break a resolutionwe must put a cross opposite it. That will show us what progress we aremaking, as well as make us ashamed if we have too many crosses."

  "And let's have a Roll of Honour in Our Magazine," suggested Felix, "andevery month we'll publish the names of those who keep their resolutionsperfect."

  "I think it's all nonsense," said Felicity. But she joined our circlearound the table, though she sat for a long time with a blank sheetbefore her.

  "Let's each make a resolution in turn," I said. "I'll lead off."

  And, recalling with shame certain unpleasant differences of opinion Ihad lately had with Felicity, I wrote down in my best hand,

  "I shall try to keep my temper always."

  "You'd better," said Felicity tactfully.

  It was Dan's turn next.

  "I can't think of anything to start with," he said, gnawing hispenholder fiercely.

  "You might make a resolution not to eat poison berries," suggestedFelicity.

  "You'd better make one not to nag people everlastingly," retorted Dan.

  "Oh, don't quarrel the last night of the old year," implored Cecily.

  "You might resolve not to quarrel any time," suggested Sara Ray.

  "No, sir," said Dan emphatically. "There's no use making a resolutionyou CAN'T keep. There are people in this family you've just GOT toquarrel with if you want to live. But I've thought of one--I won't dothings to spite people."

  Felicity--who really was in an unbearable mood that night--laugheddisagreeably; but Cecily gave her a fierce nudge, which probablyrestrained her from speaking.

  "I will not eat any apples," wrote Felix.

  "What on earth do you want to give up eating apples for?" asked Peter inastonishment.

  "Never mind," returned Felix.

  "Apples make people fat, you know," said Felicity sweetly.

  "It seems a funny kind of resolution," I said doubtfully. "I think ourresolutions ought to be giving up wrong things or doing right ones."

  "You make your resolutions to suit yourself and I'll make mine to suitmyself," said Felix defiantly.

  "I shall never get drunk," wrote Peter painstakingly.

  "But you never do," said the Story Girl in astonishment.

  "Well, it will be all the easier to keep the resolution," argued Peter.

  "That isn't fair," complained Dan. "If we all resolved not to do thethings we never do we'd all be on the Roll of Honour."

  "You let Peter alone," said Felicity severely. "It's a very goodresolution and one everybody ought to make."

  "I shall not be jealous," wrote the Story Girl.

  "But are you?" I asked, surprised.

  The Story Girl coloured and nodded. "Of one thing," she confessed, "butI'm not going to tell what it is."

  "I'm jealous sometimes, too," confessed Sara Ray, "and so my firstresolution will be 'I shall try not to feel jealous when I hear theother girls in school describing all the sick spells they've had.'"

  "Goodness, do you want to be sick?" demanded Felix in astonishment.

  "It makes a person important," explained Sara Ray.

  "I am going to try to improve my mind by reading good books andlistening to older people," wrote Cecily.

  "You got that out of the Sunday School paper," cried Felicity.

  "It doesn't matter where I got it," said Cecily with dignity. "The mainthing is to keep it."

  "It's your turn, Felicity," I said.

  Felicity tossed her beautiful golden head.

  "I told you I wasn't going to make any resolutions. Go on yourself."

  "
I shall always study my grammar lesson," I wrote--I, who loathedgrammar with a deadly loathing.

  "I hate grammar too," sighed Sara Ray. "It seems so unimportant."

  Sara was rather fond of a big word, but did not always get hold of theright one. I rather suspected that in the above instance she reallymeant uninteresting.

  "I won't get mad at Felicity, if I can help it," wrote Dan.

  "I'm sure I never do anything to make you mad," exclaimed Felicity.

  "I don't think it's polite to make resolutions about your sisters," saidPeter.

  "He can't keep it anyway," scoffed Felicity. "He's got such an awfultemper."

  "It's a family failing," flashed Dan, breaking his resolution ere theink on it was dry.

  "There you go," taunted Felicity.

  "I'll work all my arithmetic problems without any help," scribbledFelix.

  "I wish I could resolve that, too," sighed Sara Ray, "but it wouldn't beany use. I'd never be able to do those compound multiplication sums theteacher gives us to do at home every night if I didn't get Judy Pineauto help me. Judy isn't a good reader and she can't spell AT ALL, but youcan't stick her in arithmetic as far as she went herself. I feel sure,"concluded poor Sara, in a hopeless tone, "that I'll NEVER be able tounderstand compound multiplication."

  "'Multiplication is vexation, Division is as bad, The rule of three perplexes me, And fractions drive me mad,'"

  quoted Dan.

  "I haven't got as far as fractions yet," sighed Sara, "and I hope I'llbe too big to go to school before I do. I hate arithmetic, but I amPASSIONATELY fond of geography."

  "I will not play tit-tat-x on the fly leaves of my hymn book in church,"wrote Peter.

  "Mercy, did you ever do such a thing?" exclaimed Felicity in horror.

  Peter nodded shamefacedly.

  "Yes--that Sunday Mr. Bailey preached. He was so long-winded, I gotawful tired, and, anyway, he was talking about things I couldn'tunderstand, so I played tit-tat-x with one of the Markdale boys. It wasthe day I was sitting up in the gallery."

  "Well, I hope if you ever do the like again you won't do it in OUR pew,"said Felicity severely.

  "I ain't going to do it at all," said Peter. "I felt sort of mean allthe rest of the day."

  "I shall try not to be vexed when people interrupt me when I'm tellingstories," wrote the Story Girl. "but it will be hard," she added with asigh.

  "I never mind being interrupted," said Felicity.

  "I shall try to be cheerful and smiling all the time," wrote Cecily.

  "You are, anyway," said Sara Ray loyally.

  "I don't believe we ought to be cheerful ALL the time," said the StoryGirl. "The Bible says we ought to weep with those who weep."

  "But maybe it means that we're to weep cheerfully," suggested Cecily.

  "Sorter as if you were thinking, 'I'm very sorry for you but I'm mightyglad I'm not in the scrape too,'" said Dan.

  "Dan, don't be irreverent," rebuked Felicity.

  "I know a story about old Mr. and Mrs. Davidson of Markdale," saidthe Story Girl. "She was always smiling and it used to aggravate herhusband, so one day he said very crossly, 'Old lady, what ARE yougrinning at?' 'Oh, well, Abiram, everything's so bright and pleasant,I've just got to smile.'

  "Not long after there came a time when everything went wrong--the cropfailed and their best cow died, and Mrs. Davidson had rheumatism; andfinally Mr. Davidson fell and broke his leg. But still Mrs. Davidsonsmiled. 'What in the dickens are you grinning about now, old lady?'he demanded. 'Oh, well, Abiram,' she said, 'everything is so dark andunpleasant I've just got to smile.' 'Well,' said the old man crossly, 'Ithink you might give your face a rest sometimes.'"

  "I shall not talk gossip," wrote Sara Ray with a satisfied air.

  "Oh, don't you think that's a little TOO strict?" asked Cecilyanxiously. "Of course, it's not right to talk MEAN gossip, but theharmless kind doesn't hurt. If I say to you that Emmy MacPhail is goingto get a new fur collar this winter, THAT is harmless gossip, but if Isay I don't see how Emmy MacPhail can afford a new fur collar when herfather can't pay my father for the oats he got from him, that would beMEAN gossip. If I were you, Sara, I'd put MEAN gossip."

  Sara consented to this amendment.

  "I will be polite to everybody," was my third resolution, which passedwithout comment.

  "I'll try not to use slang since Cecily doesn't like it," wrote Dan.

  "I think some slang is real cute," said Felicity.

  "The Family Guide says it's very vulgar," grinned Dan. "Doesn't it, SaraStanley?"

  "Don't disturb me," said the Story Girl dreamily. "I'm just thinking abeautiful thought."

  "I've thought of a resolution to make," cried Felicity. "Mr. Marwoodsaid last Sunday we should always try to think beautiful thoughts andthen our lives would be very beautiful. So I shall resolve to think abeautiful thought every morning before breakfast."

  "Can you only manage one a day?" queried Dan.

  "And why before breakfast?" I asked.

  "Because it's easier to think on an empty stomach," said Peter, in allgood faith. But Felicity shot a furious glance at him.

  "I selected that time," she explained with dignity, "because when I'mbrushing my hair before my glass in the morning I'll see my resolutionand remember it."

  "Mr. Marwood meant that ALL our thoughts ought to be beautiful," saidthe Story Girl. "If they were, people wouldn't be afraid to say whatthey think."

  "They oughtn't to be afraid to, anyhow," said Felix stoutly. "I'm goingto make a resolution to say just what I think always."

  "And do you expect to get through the year alive if you do?" asked Dan.

  "It might be easy enough to say what you think if you could always besure just what you DO think," said the Story Girl. "So often I can't besure."

  "How would you like it if people always said just what they think toyou?" asked Felicity.

  "I'm not very particular what SOME people think of me," rejoined Felix.

  "I notice you don't like to be told by anybody that you're fat,"retorted Felicity.

  "Oh, dear me, I do wish you wouldn't all say such sarcastic things toeach other," said poor Cecily plaintively. "It sounds so horrid the lastnight of the old year. Dear knows where we'll all be this night nextyear. Peter, it's your turn."

  "I will try," wrote Peter, "to say my prayers every night regular, andnot twice one night because I don't expect to have time the next,--likeI did the night before the party," he added.

  "I s'pose you never said your prayers until we got you to go to church,"said Felicity--who had had no hand in inducing Peter to go to church,but had stoutly opposed it, as recorded in the first volume of ourfamily history.

  "I did, too," said Peter. "Aunt Jane taught me to say my prayers. Mahadn't time, being as father had run away; ma had to wash at night sameas in day-time."

  "I shall learn to cook," wrote the Story Girl, frowning.

  "You'd better resolve not to make puddings of--" began Felicity, thenstopped as suddenly as if she had bitten off the rest of her sentenceand swallowed it. Cecily had nudged her, so she had probably rememberedthe Story Girl's threat that she would never tell another story if shewas ever twitted with the pudding she had made from sawdust. But we allknew what Felicity had started to say and the Story Girl dealt her amost uncousinly glance.

  "I will not cry because mother won't starch my aprons," wrote Sara Ray.

  "Better resolve not to cry about anything," said Dan kindly.

  Sara Ray shook her head forlornly.

  "That would be too hard to keep. There are times when I HAVE to cry.It's a relief."

  "Not to the folks who have to hear you," muttered Dan aside to Cecily.

  "Oh, hush," whispered Cecily back. "Don't go and hurt her feelings thelast night of the old year. Is it my turn again? Well, I'll resolve notto worry because my hair is not curly. But, oh, I'll never be able tohelp wishing it was."

  "Why don't you curl
it as you used to do, then?" asked Dan.

  "You know very well that I've never put my hair up in curl papers sincethe time Peter was dying of the measles," said Cecily reproachfully. "Iresolved then I wouldn't because I wasn't sure it was quite right."

  "I will keep my finger-nails neat and clean," I wrote. "There, that'sfour resolutions. I'm not going to make any more. Four's enough."

  "I shall always think twice before I speak," wrote Felix.

  "That's an awful waste of time," commented Dan, "but I guess you'll needto if you're always going to say what you think."

  "I'm going to stop with three," said Peter.

  "I will have all the good times I can," wrote the Story Girl.

  "THAT'S what I call sensible," said Dan.

  "It's a very easy resolution to keep, anyhow," commented Felix.

  "I shall try to like reading the Bible," wrote Sara Ray.

  "You ought to like reading the Bible without trying to," exclaimedFelicity.

  "If you had to read seven chapters of it every time you were naughty Idon't believe you would like it either," retorted Sara Ray with a flashof spirit.

  "I shall try to believe only half of what I hear," was Cecily'sconcluding resolution.

  "But which half?" scoffed Dan.

  "The best half," said sweet Cecily simply.

  "I'll try to obey mother ALWAYS," wrote Sara Ray, with a tremendoussigh, as if she fully realized the difficulty of keeping such aresolution. "And that's all I'm going to make."

  "Felicity has only made one," said the Story Girl.

  "I think it better to make just one and keep it than make a lot andbreak them," said Felicity loftily.

  She had the last word on the subject, for it was time for Sara Ray togo, and our circle broke up. Sara and Felix departed and we watchedthem down the lane in the moonlight--Sara walking demurely in one runnertrack, and Felix stalking grimly along in the other. I fear the romanticbeauty of that silver shining night was entirely thrown away on mymischievous brother.

  And it was, as I remember it, a most exquisite night--a white poem, afrosty, starry lyric of light. It was one of those nights on which onemight fall asleep and dream happy dreams of gardens of mirth andsong, feeling all the while through one's sleep the soft splendour andradiance of the white moon-world outside, as one hears soft, far-awaymusic sounding through the thoughts and words that are born of it.

  As a matter of fact, however, Cecily dreamed that night that she sawthree full moons in the sky, and wakened up crying with the horror ofit.