Chapter XV. Saint Lucy

mentionedsoap,forhedidnotlovetodomuchinthewashingandbrushingline. “Isupposethat'sit.Well,Ilikeit,andIshallkeepontrying,forbeinglovedbyeveryoneisaboutthenicestthingintheworld.Isn'tit,Ed?”askedJack,withagentletweakoftheearasheputaquestionwhichheknewwouldgetnoanswer,forEdwassomodesthecouldnotseewhereinhedifferedfromotherboys,norbelievethatthesunshinehesawinotherfaceswasonlythereflectionfromhisown. SundayeveningMrs.Minotsatbythefire,planninghowsheshouldtellsomegoodnewsshehadbeensavingupallday.Mrs.Pecqknewit,andseemedsodelightedthatshewentaboutsmilingasifshedidnotknowwhattroublemeant,andcouldnotdoenoughforthefamily.Shewasdownstairsnow,seeingthattheclotheswereproperlypreparedforthewash,sotherewasnooneintheBirdRoombutMammaandthechildren.FrankwasreadingupallhecouldfindaboutsomeBiblicalheromentionedintheday'ssermonJilllaywhereshehadlainfornearlyfourlongmonths,andthoughherfacewaspaleandthinwiththeconfinement,therewasanexpressiononitnowsweetereventhanhealth.Jacksatontherugbesideher,lookingatawhitecarnationthroughthemagnifyingglass,whileshewasenjoyingtheperfumeofaredoneasshetalkedtohim. “Ifyoulookatthewhitepetalsyou'llseethattheysparklelikemarble,andgowindingalongwaydowntothemiddleoftheflowerwhereitgrowssortofrosyandinamongthesmall,curlyleaves,likefringedcurtains,youcanseethelittlegreenfairysittingallalone.Yourmothershowedmethat,andIthinkitisverypretty.Icallita'fairy,'butitisreallywheretheseedsarehiddenandthesweetsmellcomesfrom.” Jillspokesoftlylestsheshoulddisturbtheothers,and,assheturnedtopushupherpillow,shesawMrs.Minotlookingatherwithasmileshedidnotunderstand. “Didyouspeak,'m?”sheasked,smilingbackagain,withoutintheleastknowingwhy. “No,dear.Iwaslisteningandthinkingwhataprettylittlestoryonecouldmakeoutofyourfairylivingalonedownthere,andonlyknownbyherperfume.” “Tellit,Mamma.Itistimeforourstory,andthatwouldbeaniceone,Iguess,”saidJack,whowasasfondofstoriesaswhenhesatinhismother'slapandchuckledovertheheroofthebeanstalk. “Wedon'thavefairytalesonSunday,youknow,”beganJillregretfully. “Callitaparable,andhaveamoraltoit,thenitwillbeallright,”putinFrank,asheshuthisbigbook,havingfoundwhathewanted. “Ilikestoriesaboutsaints,andthegoodandwonderfulthingstheydid,”saidJill,whoenjoyedthewiseandinterestingbitsMrs.Minotoftenfoundforheringrown-upbooks,forJillhadthoughtfultimes,andaskedquestionswhichshowedthatshewasgrowingfastinmindifnotinbody. “ThisisatruestorybutIwilldisguiseitalittle,andcallit'TheMiracleofSaintLucy,'”beganMrs.Minot,seeingawaytotellhergoodnewsandamusethechildrenlikewise. Frankretiredtotheeasy-chair,thathemightsleepifthetaleshouldprovetoochildishforhim.Jillsettledherselfamonghercushions,andJacklayflatupontherug,withhisfeetup,sothathecouldadmirehisredslippersandresthisknee,whichached. “Onceuponatimetherewasaqueenwhohadtwoprinces.” “Wasn'tthereaprincess?”askedJack,interestedatonce. “Noanditwasagreatsorrowtothequeenthatshehadnolittledaughter,forthesonsweregrowingup,andshewasoftenverylonely. “LikeSnowdrop'smother,”whisperedJill. “Now,don'tkeepinterrupting,children,orwenevershallgeton,”saidFrank,moreanxioustohearabouttheboysthatwerethanthegirlthatwasnot. “Oneday,whentheprinceswereout—ahem!we'llsayhunting—theyfoundalittledamsellyingonthesnow,halfdeadwithcold,theythought.Shewasthechildofapoorwomanwholivedintheforest—awildlittlething,alwaysdancingandsingingaboutashardtocatchasasquirrel,andsofearlessshewouldclimbthehighesttrees,leapbroadbrooks,orjumpoffthesteeprockstoshowhercourage.Theboyscarriedherho