The Blue Castle by Lucy Maud Montgomery Page B

meetings— his twisted, enigmatic, engaging smile, his twinkle, his thin, sensitive, almost ascetic lips, his general air of frank daredeviltry. A man with such a smile and lips might have murdered or stolen but he could not have betrayed. She suddenly hated every one who said it or believed it of him.
    “When I was a young girl I never thought or spoke about such matters, Doss,” said Aunt Wellington, crushingly.
    “But I’m not a young girl,” retorted Valancy, uncrushed. “Aren’t you always rubbing that into me? And you are all evil-minded, senseless gossips. Can’t you leave poor Cissy Gay alone? She’s dying. Whatever she did, God or the Devil has punished her enough for it. You needn’t take a hand, too. As for Barney Snaith, the only crime he has been guilty of is living to himself and minding his own business. He can, it seems, get along without you. Which IS an unpardonable sin, of course, in your little snobocracy.” Valancy coined that concluding word suddenly and felt that it was an inspiration. That was exactly what they were and not one of them was fit to mend another.
    “Valancy, your poor father would turn over in his grave if he could hear you,” said Mrs. Frederick.
    “I dare say he would like that for a change,” said Valancy brazenly.
    “Doss,” said Uncle James heavily, “the Ten Commandments are fairly up to date still—especially the fifth. Have you forgotten that?”
    “No,” said Valancy, “but I thought YOU had—especially the ninth. Have you ever thought, Uncle James, how dull life would be without the Ten Commandments? It is only when things are forbidden that they become fascinating.”
    But her excitement had been too much for her. She knew, by certain unmistakable warnings, that one of her attacks of pain was coming on. It must not find her there. She rose from her chair.
    “I am going home now. I only came for the dinner. It was very good, Aunt Alberta, although your salad-dressing is not salt enough and a dash of cayenne would improve it.”
    None of the flabbergasted silver wedding guests could think of anything to say until the lawn gate clanged behind Valancy in the dusk. Then—
    “She’s feverish—I’ve said right along she was feverish,” moaned Cousin Stickles.
    Uncle Benjamin punished his pudgy left hand fiercely with his pudgy right.
    “She’s dippy—I tell you she’s gone dippy,” he snorted angrily. “That’s all there is about it. Clean dippy.”
    “Oh, Benjamin,” said Cousin Georgiana soothingly, “don’t condemn her too rashly. We MUST remember what dear old Shakespeare says— that charity thinketh no evil.”
    “Charity! Poppy-cock!” snorted Uncle Benjamin. “I never heard a young woman talk such stuff in my life as she just did. Talking about things she ought to be ashamed to think of, much less mention. Blaspheming! Insulting US! What she wants is a generous dose of spank-weed and I’d like to be the one to administer it. H-uh-h-h-h!” Uncle Benjamin gulped down the half of a scalding cup of coffee.
    “Do you suppose that the mumps could work on a person that way?” wailed Cousin Stickles.
    “I opened an umbrella in the house yesterday,” sniffed Cousin Georgiana. “I KNEW it betokened some misfortune.”
    “Have you tried to find out if she has a temperature?” asked Cousin Mildred.
    “She wouldn’t let Amelia put the thermometer under her tongue,” whimpered Cousin Stickles.
    Mrs. Frederick was openly in tears. All her defences were down.
    “I must tell you,” she sobbed, “that Valancy has been acting very strangely for over two weeks now. She hasn’t been a bit like herself—Christine could tell you. I have hoped against hope that it was only one of her colds coming on. But it is—it must be something worse.”
    “This is bringing on my neuritis again,” said Cousin Gladys, putting her hand to her head.
    “Don’t cry, Amelia,” said Herbert kindly, pulling nervously at his spiky grey hair. He hated