"Well," she said, "I will hold my tongue."This encounter with innocence and logic had left him worsted. Jim could see no way out of the fact that his father, the rector, his mother, the rector's wife, and he, the rector's son, were disgraced by their relationship to such an unsanctified little soul as this queer Content Adams.
And yet he looked at the poor lonely little girl, who was trying very hard to learn her lessons, who sug-gested in her very pose and movement a little, scared rabbit ready to leap the road for some bush of hiding, and while he was angry with her he pitied her. He had no doubts concerning Content's keeping her promise. He was quite sure that he would now say nothing whatever about that big sister Solly to the others, but he was not prepared for what happened that very afternoon.
When he went home from school his heart stood still to see Miss Martha Rose, and Arnold Carruth's aunt Flora, and his aunt who was not his aunt, Miss Dorothy Vernon, who was visiting her, all walking along in state with their lace-trimmed parasols, their white gloves, and their nice card-cases. Jim jumped a fence and raced across lots home, and gained on them. He burst in on his mother, sitting on the porch, which was inclosed by wire netting overgrown with a budding vine. It was the first warm day of the season.
"Mother," cried Jim Patterson -- "mother, they are coming!""Who, for goodness' sake, Jim?"
"Why, Arnold's aunt Flora and his aunt Dorothy and little Lucy's aunt Martha. They are coming to call."Involuntarily Sally's hand went up to smooth her pretty hair. "Well, what of it, Jim?" said she.
"Mother, they will ask for -- big sister Solly!"Sally Patterson turned pale. "How do you know?""Mother, Content has been talking at school. Alot know. You will see they will ask for --""Run right in and tell Content to stay in her room," whispered Sally, hastily, for the callers, their white-kidded hands holding their card-cases genteelly, were coming up the walk.
Sally advanced, smiling. She put a brave face on the matter, but she realized that she, Sally Patterson, who had never been a coward, was positively afraid before this absurdity. The callers sat with her on the pleasant porch, with the young vine-shadows ****** networks over their best gowns.
Tea was served presently by the maid, and, much to Sally's relief, before the maid appeared came the inquiry. Miss Martha Rose made it.
"We would be pleased to see Miss Solly Adams also," said Miss Martha.
Flora Carruth echoed her. "I was so glad to hear another nice girl had come to the village," said she with enthusiasm. Miss Dorothy Vernon said some-thing indefinite to the same effect.
"I am sorry," replied Sally, with an effort, "but there is no Miss Solly Adams here now." She spoke the truth as nearly as she could manage without unraveling the whole ridiculous affair. The callers sighed with regret, tea was served with little cakes, and they fluttered down the walk, holding their card-cases, and that ordeal was over.
But Sally sought the rector in his study, and she was trembling. "Edward," she cried out, regardless of her husband's sermon, "something must be done now.""Why, what is the matter, Sally?"
"People are -- calling on her."
"Calling on whom?"
"Big sister -- Solly!" Sally explained.
"Well, don't worry, dear," said the rector. "Of course we will do something, but we must think it over. Where is the child now?""She and Jim are out in the garden. I saw them pass the window just now. Jim is such a dear boy, he tries hard to be nice to her. Edward Patterson, we ought not to wait.""My dear, we must."
Meantime Jim and Content Adams were out in the garden. Jim had gone to Content's door and tapped and called out, rather rudely: "Content, Isay, put on your hat and come along out in the garden. I've got something to tell you.""Don't want to," protested Content's little voice, faintly.
"You come right along."
And Content came along. She was an obedient child, and she liked Jim, although she stood much in awe of him. She followed him into the garden back of the rectory, and they sat down on the bench beneath the weeping willow. The minute they were seated Jim began to talk.
"Now," said he, "I want to know."
Content glanced up at him, then looked down and turned pale.
"I want to know, honest Injun," said Jim, "what you are telling such awful whoppers about your old big sister Solly for?"Content was silent. This time she did not smile, a tear trickled out of her right eye and ran over the pale cheek.
"Because you know," said Jim, observant of the tear, but ruthless, "that you haven't any big sister Solly, and never did have. You are getting us all in an awful mess over it, and father is rector here, and mother is his wife, and I am his son, and you are his niece, and it is downright mean. Why do you tell such whoppers? Out with it!"Content was trembling violently. "I lived with Aunt Eudora," she whispered.
"Well, what of that? Other folks have lived with their aunts and not told whoppers.""They haven't lived with Aunt Eudora."
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Content Adams, and you the rector's niece, talking that way about dead folks.""I don't mean to talk about poor Aunt Eudora,"fairly sobbed Content. "Aunt Eudora was a real good aunt, but she was grown up. She was a good deal more grown up than your mother; she really was, and when I first went to live with her I was 'most a little baby; I couldn't speak -- plain, and I had to go to bed real early, and slept 'way off from everybody, and I used to be afraid -- all alone, and so --""Well, go on," said Jim, but his voice was softer.
It WAS hard lines for a little kid, especially if she was a girl.
"And so," went on the little, plaintive voice, "Igot to thinking how nice it would be if I only had a big sister, and I used to cry and say to myself -- Icouldn't speak plain, you know, I was so little --'Big sister would be real solly.' And then first thing I knew -- she came.""Who came?"
"Big sister Solly."
