Chapter 10 GROWING PAINS

There was a great deal of suppressed excitement in school during

The last week in June, the cause thereof being Rhoda Stuart's

Birthday party, which was to take place early in July. The amount

Of heart-burning was incredible. Who was to be invited? That was

The great question. There were some who knew they wouldn't and

Some who knew they would; but there were more who were in truly

Horrible suspense. Everybody paid court to Emily because she was

Rhoda's dearest friend and might conceivably have some voice in the

Selection of guests. Jennie Strang even went as far as bluntly to

Offer Emily a beautiful white box with a gorgeous picture of Queen

Victoria on the cover, to keep her pencils in, if she would procure

Her an invitation. Emily refused the bribe and said grandly that

She could not interfere in such a delicate matter. Emily really

Did put on some airs about it. SHE was sure of her invitation.

Rhoda had told her about the party weeks before and had talked it

All over with her. It was to be a very grand affair--a birthday

Cake covered with pink icing and adorned with ten tall pink

Candles--ice-cream and oranges--and written invitations on pink, Gilt-edged note-paper SENT THROUGH THE POST-OFFICE--this last being

An added touch of exclusiveness. Emily dreamed about that party

Day and night and had her present all ready for Rhoda--a pretty

Hair-ribbon which Aunt Laura had brought from Shrewsbury.

On the first Sunday in July Emily found herself sitting beside

Jennie Strang in Sunday-school for the opening exercises.

Generally she and Rhoda sat together, but now Rhoda was sitting

Three seats ahead with a strange little girl--a very gay and

Gorgeous little girl, dressed in blue silk, with a large, flower-

Wreathed leghorn hat on her elaborately curled hair, white lace-

Work stockings on her pudgy legs and a bang that came clean down to

Her eyes. Not all her fine feathers could make a really fine bird

Of her, however; she was not in the least pretty and her expression

Was cross and contemptuous.

"Who is the girl sitting with Rhoda?" whispered Emily.

"Oh, she's Muriel Porter, " answered Jennie. "She's a towny, you

Know. She's come out to spend her vacation with her aunt, Jane

Beatty. I hate her. If I was her I'd never DREAM of wearing blue

With a skin as dark as hers. But the Porters are rich and Muriel

Thinks she's a wonder. They say Rhoda and her have been AWFUL

THICK since she came out--Rhoda's always chasing after anybody she

Thinks is up in the world."

Emily stiffened up. She was not going to listen to disparaging

Remarks about her friends. Jennie felt the stiffening and changed

Her note.

"Anway, I'm GLAD I'm not invited to Rhoda's old party. I wouldn't

WANT to go when Muriel Porter will be there, putting on her airs."

"How do you know you are not invited?" wondered Emily.

"Why, the invitations went out yesterday. Didn't you get yours?"

"No--o--o."

"Did you get your mail?"

"Yes--Cousin Jimmy got it."

"Well, maybe Mrs Beecher forgot to give it to him. Likely you'll

Get it to-morrow."

Emily agreed that it was likely. But a queer cold sensation of

Dismay had invaded her being, which was not removed by the fact

That after Sunday-school Rhoda strutted away with Muriel Porter

Without a glance at any one else. On Monday Emily herself went to

The post-office, but there was no pink envelope for her. She cried

Herself to sleep that night, but did not quite give up hope until

Tuesday had passed. Then she faced the terrible truth--that she--

She, Emily Byrd Starr, of New Moon--had not been invited to Rhoda's

Party. The thing was incredible. There MUST be a mistake

Somewhere. Had Cousin Jimmy lost the invitation on the road home?

Had Rhoda's grown-up sister who wrote the invitations overlooked

Her name? Had--Emily's unhappy doubts were for ever resolved into

Bitter certainty by Jennie, who joined her as she left the post-

Office. There was a malicious light in Jennie's beady eyes.

Jennie liked Emily quite well by now, in spite of their passage-at-

Arms on the day of their first meeting, but she liked to see her

Pride humbled for all that.

"So you're not invited to Rhoda's party after all."

"No, " admitted Emily.

It was a very bitter moment for her. The Murray pride was sorely

Wrung--and, beneath the Murray pride, something else had been

Grievously wounded but was not yet quite dead.

"Well, I call it dirt mean, " said Jennie, quite honestly

Sympathetic in spite of her secret satisfaction. "After all the

Fuss she's made over you, too! But that's Rhoda Stuart all over.

Deceitful is no name for HER."

"I don't think she's deceitful, " said Emily, loyal to the last

Ditch. "I believe there's some mistake about my not being

Invited."

Jennie stared.

"Then you don't know the reason? Why, Beth Beatty told me the

Whole story. Muriel Porter hates you and she just up and told

Rhoda that she would not go to her party if you were invited. And

Rhoda was so crazy to have a town girl there that she promised she

Wouldn't invite you."

"Muriel Porter doesn't know me, " gasped Emily. "How can she hate

Me?"

Jennie grinned impishly.

"_I_ can tell you. She's DEAD STRUCK on Fred Stuart and Fred knows

It and he teased her by praising YOU up to her--told her you were

The sweetest girl in Blair Water and he meant to have you for HIS

GIRL when you were a little older. And Muriel was so mad and

Jealous she made Rhoda leave you out. _I_ wouldn't care if I was

You. A Murray of New Moon is away above such trash. As for Rhoda

Not being deceitful, I can tell you she IS. Why, she told you that

She didn't know that snake was in the box, when it was her thought

Of doing it in the first place."

Emily was too crushed to reply. She was glad that Jennie had to

Switch off down her own lane and leave her alone. She hurried

Home, afraid that she could not keep the tears back until she got

There. Disappointment about the party--humiliation over the

Insult--all were swallowed up in the anguish of a faith betrayed

And a trust outraged. Her love of Rhoda was quite dead now and

Emily smarted to the core of her soul with the pain of the blow

That had killed it. It was a child's tragedy--and all the more

Bitter for that, since there was no one to understand. Aunt

Elizabeth told her that birthday parties were all nonsense and that

The Stuarts were not a family that the Murrays had ever associated

With. And even Aunt Laura, though she petted and comforted, did

Not realize how deep and grievous the hurt had been--so deep and

Grievous that Emily could not even write about it to her father, And had no outlet for the violence of emotion that racked her

Being.

The next Sunday Rhoda was alone in Sunday-school, Muriel Porter

Having been suddenly summoned back to town by her father's illness;

And Rhoda looked sweetly towards Emily. But Emily sailed past her

With a head held very high and scorn on every lineament. She would

NEVER have anything to do with Rhoda Stuart again--she couldn't.

She despised Rhoda more than ever for trying to get back with her, Now that the town girl for whom she had sacrificed her was gone.

It was not for Rhoda she mourned--it was for the friendship that

Had been so dear to her. Rhoda HAD been dear and sweet on the

Surface at least, and Emily had found intense happiness in their

Companionship. Now it was gone and she could never, NEVER love or

Trust anybody again. THERE lay the sting.

It poisoned everything. Emily was of a nature which even as a

Child, did not readily recover from or forget such a blow. She

Moped about New Moon, lost her appetite and grew thin. She hated

To go to Sunday-school because she thought the other girls exulted

In her humiliation and her estrangement from Rhoda. Some slight

Feeling of the kind there was, perhaps, but Emily morbidly

Exaggerated it. If two girls whispered or giggled together she

Thought she was being discussed and laughed at. If one of them

Walked home with her she thought it was out of condescending pity

Because she was friendless. For a month Emily was the most unhappy

Little being in Blair Water.

"I think I must have been put under a curse at birth, " she

Reflected disconsolately.

Aunt Elizabeth had a more prosaic idea to account for Emily's

Langour and lack of appetite. She had come to the conclusion that

Emily's heavy masses of hair "took from her strength" and that she

Would be much stronger and better if it were cut off. With Aunt

Elizabeth to decide was to act. One morning she coolly informed

Emily that her hair was to be "shingled."

Emily could not believe her ears.

"You don't mean that you are going to cut off my hair, Aunt

Elizabeth, " she exclaimed.

"Yes, I mean exactly that, " said Aunt Elizabeth firmly. "You have

Entirely too much hair especially for hot weather. I feel sure

That is why you have been so miserable lately. Now, I don't want

Any crying."

But Emily could not keep the tears back.

"Don't cut it ALL off, " she pleaded. "Just cut a good big bang.

Lots of the girls have their hair banged clean from the crown of

Their heads. That would take half my hair off and the rest won't

Take too much strength."

"There will be no bangs here, " said Aunt Elizabeth. "I've told you

So often enough. I'm going to shingle your hair close all over

Your head for the hot weather. You'll be thankful to me some day

For it."

Emily felt anything but thankful just then.

"It's my one beauty, " she sobbed, "it and my lashes. I suppose you

Want to cut off my lashes too."

Aunt Elizabeth DID distrust those long, upcurled fringes of

Emily's, which were an inheritance from the girlish stepmother, and

Too un-Murray-like to be approved; but she had no designs against

Them. The hair must go, however, and she curtly bade Emily wait

There, without any fuss, until she got the scissors.

Emily waited--quite hopelessly. She must lose her lovely hair--the

Hair her father had been so proud of. It might grow again in time--

If Aunt Elizabeth let it--but that would take years, and meanwhile

What a fright she would be! Aunt Laura and Cousin Jimmy were out;

She had no one to back her up; this horrible thing must happen.

Aunt Elizabeth returned with the scissors; they clicked

Suggestively as she opened them; that click, as if by magic, seemed

To loosen something--some strange formidable power in Emily's soul.

She turned deliberately around and faced her aunt. She felt her

Brows drawing together in an unaccustomed way--she felt an uprush

As from unknown depths of some irresistible surge of energy.

"Aunt Elizabeth, " she said, looking straight at the lady with the

Scissors, "MY HAIR IS NOT GOING TO BE CUT OFF. Let me hear no more

Of this."

An amazing thing happened to Aunt Elizabeth. She turned pale--she

Laid the scissors down--she looked aghast for one moment at the

Transformed or possessed child before her--and then for the first

Time in her life Elizabeth Murray turned tail and fled--literally

Fled--to the kitchen.

"What is the matter, Elizabeth?" cried Laura, coming in from the

Cook-house.

"I saw--Father--looking from her face, " gasped Elizabeth, Trembling. "And she said, 'Let me hear no more of this'--just as

HE always said it--his very words."

Emily overheard her and ran to the sideboard mirror. She had had, While she was speaking, an uncanny feeling of wearing somebody

Else's face instead of her own. It was vanishing now--but Emily

Caught a glimpse of it as it left--the Murray look, she supposed.

No wonder it had frightened Aunt Elizabeth--it frightened herself--

She was glad that it had gone. She shivered--she fled to her

Garret retreat and cried; but somehow, she knew that her hair would

Not be cut.

Nor was it; Aunt Elizabeth never referred to the matter again. But

Several days passed before she meddled much with Emily.

It was a rather curious fact that from that day Emily ceased to

Grieve over her lost friend. The matter had suddenly become of

Small importance. It was as if it had happened so long ago that

Nothing, save the mere emotionless memory of it, remained. Emily

Speedily regained appetite and animation, resumed her letters to

Her father and found that life tasted good again, marred only by a

Mysterious prescience that Aunt Elizabeth had it in for her in

Regard to her defeat in the matter of her hair and would get even

Sooner or later.

Aunt Elizabeth "got even" within the week. Emily was to go on an

Errand to the shop. It was a broiling day and she had been allowed

To go barefooted at home; but now she must put on boots and

Stockings. Emily rebelled--it was too hot--it was too dusty--she

Couldn't walk that long half-mile in buttoned boots. Aunt

Elizabeth was inexorable. No Murray must be seen barefooted away

From home--and on they went. But the minute Emily was outside the

New Moon gate she deliberately sat down, took them off, stowed them

In a hole in the dyke, and pranced away barefooted.

She did her errand and returned with an untroubled conscience. How

Beautiful the world was--how softly blue was the great, round Blair

Water--how glorious that miracle of buttercups in the wet field

Below Lofty John's bush! At sight of it Emily stood stock still

And composed a verse of poetry.

Buttercup, flower of the yellow dye, I see thy cheerful face

Greeting and nodding everywhere

Careless of time and place.

In boggy field or public road

Or cultured garden's pale

You sport your petals satin-soft, And down within the vale.

So far, so good. But Emily wanted another verse to round the poem

Off properly and the divine afflatus seemed gone. She walked

Dreamily home, and by the time she reached New Moon she had got her

Verse and was reciting it to herself with an agreeable sense of

Completion.

You cast your loveliness around

Where'er you chance to be, And you shall always, buttercup, Be a flower dear to me.

Emily felt very proud. This was her third poem and undoubtedly her

Best. Nobody could say IT was very blank. She must hurry up to

The garret and write it on a letter-bill. But Aunt Elizabeth was

Confronting her on the steps.

"Emily, where are your boots and stockings?"

Emily came back from cloudland with a disagreeable jolt. She had

Forgotten all about boots and stockings.

"In the hole by the gate, " she said flatly.

"You went to the store barefooted?"

"Yes."

"After I had told you not to?"

This seemed to Emily a superfluous question and she did not answer

It. But Aunt Elizabeth's turn had come.