"I can't think of any
resolutions I want to make," said Felicity,
who was
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
afraid it 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
can keep 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
every day," suggested the Story Girl, "and every time we break a
resolution we must put a cross opposite it. That will show us
what progress we are making, 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, "and every month we'll publish the names of those who keep
their
resolutions perfect."
"I think it's all nonsense," said Felicity. But she joined our
circle around the table, though she sat for a long time with a
blank sheet before her.
"Let's each make a
resolution in turn," I said. "I'll lead off."
And, recalling with shame certain
unpleasant differences of
opinion I had
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 his
penholder
fiercely.
"You might make a
resolution not to eat
poison berries," suggested
Felicity.
"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
resolution you CAN'T keep. There are people in this family you've
just GOT to quarrel with if you want to live. But I've thought of
one--I won't do things to spite people."
Felicity--who really was in an
unbearable mood that night--laughed
disagreeably; but Cecily gave her a
fierce nudge, which probably
restrained 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 in astonishment.
"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 our
resolutions ought to be giving up wrong things or doing
right ones."
"You make your
resolutions to suit yourself and I'll make mine to
suit myself," 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
the things we never do we'd all be on the Roll of Honour."
"You let Peter alone," said Felicity
severely. "It's a very good
resolution 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, "but I'm not going to tell what it is."
"I'm
jealous sometimes, too," confessed Sara Ray, "and so my first
resolution will be 'I shall try not to feel
jealous when I hear
the other 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 and
listening 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 main thing 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 loathed
grammar 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
the right one. I rather suspected that in the above
instance she
really meant 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," said Peter.
"He can't keep it anyway," scoffed Felicity. "He's got such an
awful
temper."
"It's a family failing," flashed Dan, breaking his
resolution ere
the ink on it was dry.
"There you go," taunted Felicity.
"I'll work all my
arithmetic problems without any help," scribbled
Felix.
"I wish I could
resolve that, too," sighed Sara Ray, "but it
wouldn't be any use. I'd never be able to do those compound
multiplication sums the teacher gives us to do at home every night
if I didn't get Judy Pineau to help me. Judy isn't a good reader
and she can't spell AT ALL, but you can't stick her in
arithmeticas far as she went herself. I feel sure," concluded poor Sara, in
a
hopeless tone, "that I'll NEVER be able to understand 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'll be too big to go to school before I do. I hate
arithmetic,
but I am PASSIONATELY 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
got awful tired, and, anyway, he was talking about things I
couldn't understand, so I played tit-tat-x with one of the
Markdale boys. It was the 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
all the rest of the day."
"I shall try not to be vexed when people
interrupt me when I'm
telling stories," wrote the Story Girl. "but it will be hard,"
she added with a sigh.
"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
Story Girl. "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
mighty glad 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," said
the Story Girl. "She was always smiling and it used to aggravate
her husband, so one day he said very crossly, 'Old lady, what ARE
you grinning 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
crop failed and their best cow died, and Mrs. Davidson had
rheumatism; and finally Mr. Davidson fell and broke his leg. But
still Mrs. Davidson smiled. 'What in the
dickens are you grinning
about now, old lady?' he demanded. 'Oh, well, Abiram,' she said,
'everything is so dark and
unpleasant I've just got to smile.'
'Well,' said the old man crossly, 'I think 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 Cecily
anxiously. "Of course, it's not right to talk MEAN
gossip, but
the
harmless kind doesn't hurt. If I say to you that Emmy
MacPhail is going to get a new fur
collar this winter, THAT is
harmlessgossip, but if I say I don't see how Emmy MacPhail can
afford a new fur
collar when her father can't pay my father for
the oats he got from him, that would be MEAN
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
passed without 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, Sara Stanley?"
"Don't
disturb me," said the Story Girl dreamily. "I'm just
thinking a beautiful thought."
"I've thought of a
resolution to make," cried Felicity. "Mr.
Marwood said last Sunday we should always try to think beautiful
thoughts and then our lives would be very beautiful. So I shall
resolve to think a beautiful 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
all good faith. But Felicity shot a
furious glance at him.
"I selected that time," she explained with
dignity, "because when
I'm brushing my hair before my glass in the morning I'll see my
resolution and remember it."
"Mr. Marwood meant that ALL our thoughts ought to be beautiful,"
said the Story Girl. "If they were, people wouldn't be afraid to
say what they think."
"They oughtn't to be afraid to, anyhow," said Felix stoutly. "I'm
going to 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
be sure just what you DO think," said the Story Girl. "So often I
can't be sure."
"How would you like it if people always said just what they think
to you?" 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,"