The Story Girl

rless without her, and even Felicity admitted that it was lonesome. But three days after her departu

old me at recess this afternoon that he HAD SEEN A PICTURE OF GOD-that he has it

en such a picture often! We were as deep

at it was like

picture of God, walking

and training, we thought and uttered the Great Name with reverence, in spite of ou

ght, but he couldn't promise, for he'd have to ask his mother if he cou

aid to look at it," sai

bly night had brought counsel to Jerry Cowan; or perhaps his mother had put him up to it. At all events, he announced to us that he couldn't bring

means to the school library fund. But the general consensus of opinion was that we must have the picture, no matter what pecuniary sacrifices were

for any other picture, but of co

f Eden thrown in, too, y

icture," said Cecily i

would do it, and tha

the family Bible," said Felicit

t it will be like

rry Cowan's terms, and Jerry promised to bring the

urday morning. To our dismay, it

g the picture to-day becaus

ty decidedly. "A Cowan would come

econd best dresses, and we boys donned white collars. We all had the unuttered feeling that we must do such honour to tha

n you are going to look a

at our great moment, so we betook ourselves to the loft of the granary in the spruce wood, from whose window we could see the main road and hail Jerry.

will," she said miserably, "but I COULDN'T wait.

down in slanting lines over the tops of the spruces. But as we waited the clouds broke awa

in despair. "I suppose his mother must have thought

ied Dan, waving excit

icity. "You surely don't suppose he wou

afterwards. It was folded up in a newspaper packet on top of the dried herring with which th

ushed tone. "You are the best

st of you," breathed Cecily, "

arcel. We stood around, hardly breathing.

Sara bega

s God look like

ur speech. DID God look like that-like that stern, angrily frowning

nce that is His pictur

l cross," said

never, never seen

led us into some Holy of Holies, not to be prof

ong," wept Sara, "that it wasn't RI

y we heard flying feet belo

re you,

we would have rushed to meet her in wild joy. B

Story Girl, appearing at the top of the stairs. "W

ith a sob in her voice, "and oh,

. An expression of sc

her fine eyes flashed. "He doesn't-He couldn't. He is wonderful and beautifu

hearts, although we we

"It says under the picture 'God in

was like," answered the Story Girl carelessly. "But HE coul

, "but YOU don't know either. I wish I could believe

e minister," said the Story Girl. "Go and ask him. He's in

t anything. But desperate cases call for desperate measures. We drew st

him in the lane," advised the Story Girl. "You'll

ing benignantly along the lane, was confronted by

ned in the backgroun

t is it?" asked M

out the picture. "We hope He doesn't-but we want to know the truth

sion came into his gentle blue eyes and he got as

u get that th

egan to bre

it in a red-covered history of the world.

e-no human being CAN know. We should not even try to think what He looks like. But, Felix, you may be sure that God is infinitely more beautiful and

had declared that the picture was not like God. That was enough for

ory Girl, but of course the mi

ts because of it," sa

on something deeper and more enduring than mind an impression had been made that was never to be removed. The mischief was done. From that day to this the thought or the mention of God brings up before us in

ld me to burn i

," said Cecily. "Even if it isn't Go

said the

e orchard. It was so nice to have the Story Girl back again. She had wreathed her hai

t it? Let's go over to Uncle Stephen's Walk, and sit on the branches of the big tree. It's too wet on the grass, and I kno

ir balsam, the spice of mint, the wild woodsiness of ferns, the aroma of grasses steep

re, or found them described in any floral catalogue. We called them the White Ladies. The Story Girl gave them the name. She said they looked like the souls of good women who had had to suffer much and had been very patient. They were wonderfully dainty, with a strange, faint

bar lives next door to Aunt Louisa in town. She is so sweet. You wouldn't think to look at her that she had a tragedy in her life, but she has. Aunt Louisa told me the tale. It all happened long, long ago. Interesting things like this all did happen long ago, it see

nia you had to go in a sailing vessel, all the way around Cape Horn. It was a long and dangerous journey; and sometimes it took over six months. When you got there you had

led on by a golden vision. They made all their arrangements,

wildly in love,-with Margaret Grant. Margaret was as beautiful as a dream, with soft blue eyes and clouds of golden hair; and she loved Alan Dunbar just as much as he loved her. But her parent

pair. He felt that he could NEVER go so far away for so long and leave his Margaret b

ter suddenly. "You ain't old enoug

th a frown. She did not like to b

OWS about," she said with di

convinced, subsided, an

e dared anything for Alan's sake. They had three days-ONLY three days-of happiness, and then the blow fell. The crew and the passengers of the Fanny refused to let Captain Dunbar take his wife with him. They told him he must leave her be

eyes. There, in the green bower of Uncle Stephen's Walk, we cried ove

. Margaret waited for nearly a year. How long it must have seemed to her! And at last there came a letter-but not from Alan. Alan was DEAD. He had died in Calif

g up, shakin

n," she implored. "I

was the end of it-the end of everything for Mar

lows who wouldn't let the Captain

ong ago and we can't do any good by crying over it now. Let us go and ge

nd old heartbreaks we had appetites. And F