Emily took the letter. It was the first time she had ever received a real letter through the mail and she tingled with the delight of it. It was addressed in a heavy black hand to “Miss Emily Starr, New Moon, Blair Water.” But—
“You opened it!” she cried indignantly.
“Of course I did. You are not going to receive letters I am not to see, Miss. What I want to know is—how comes Father Cassidy to be writing to you—and writing such nonsense?”
“I went to see him Saturday,” confessed Emily, realizing that the cat was out of the bag. “And I asked him if he couldn’t prevent Lofty John from cutting down the bush.”
“Emily—Byrd—Starr!”
“I told him I was a Protestant,” cried Emily. “He understands all about it. And he was just like anybody else. I like him better than Mr. Dare.”
Aunt Elizabeth did not say much more. There did not seem to be much she could say. Besides the bush wasn’t going to be cut down. The bringer of good news is forgiven much. She contented herself with glaring at Emily—who was too happy and excited to mind glares. She carried her letter off to the garret dormer and gloated over the stamp and the superscription a bit before she took out the enclosure.
“Dear Pearl of Emilys,” wrote Father Cassidy. “I’ve seen our lofty friend and I feel sure your green outpost of fairyland will be saved for your moonlit revels. I know you do dance there by light o’ moon when mortals are snoring. I think you’ll have to go through the form of asking Mr. Sullivan to spare those trees, but you’ll find him quite reasonable. It’s all in the knowing how and the time of the moon. How goes the epic and the language? I hope you’ll have no trouble in freeing the ‘Child of the Sea’ from her vows. Continue to be the friend of all good elves, and of
Lofty John spread the story of Emily’s appeal to Father Cassidy far and wide, enjoying it as a good joke on himself. Rhoda Stuart said she always knew Emily Starr was a bold thing and Miss Brownell said she would be surprised at nothing Emily Starr would do, and Dr. Burnley called her a Little Devil more admiringly than ever, and Perry said she had pluck and Teddy took credit for suggesting it, and Aunt Elizabeth endured, and Aunt Laura thought it might have been worse. But Cousin Jimmy made Emily feel very happy.
“It would have spoiled the garden and broken my heart, Emily,” he told her. “You’re a little darling girl to have prevented it.”
One day a month later, when Aunt Elizabeth had taken Emily to Shrewsbury to fit her out with a winter coat, they met Father Cassidy in a store. Aunt Elizabeth bowed with great stateliness, but Emily put out a slender paw.
“What about the dispensation from Rome?” whispered Father Cassidy.
One Emily was quite horrified lest Aunt Elizabeth should overhear and think she was having sly dealings with the Pope, such as no good Presbyterian half-Murray of New Moon should have. The other Emily thrilled to her toes with the dramatic delight of a secret understanding of mystery and intrigue. She nodded gravely, her eyes eloquent with satisfaction.
“I got it without any trouble,” she whispered back.
“Fine,” said Father Cassidy. “I wish you good luck, and I wish it hard. Goodbye.”
“Farewell,” said Emily, thinking it a word more in keeping with dark secrets than goodbye. She tasted the flavour of that half-stolen interview all the way home, and felt quite as if she were living in an epic herself. She did not see Father Cassidy again for years—he was soon afterwards removed to another parish; but she always thought of him as a very agreeable and understanding person.
XX
By Aerial Post
“Dearest Father:
“My heart is very sore tonight. Mike died this morning. Cousin Jimmy says he must have been poisoned. Oh, Father dear, I felt so bad. He was such a lovely cat. I cried and cried and cried. Aunt Elizabeth was disgusted. She said, ‘You did not make half so much fuss when your father died.’ What a crewel speech. Aunt Laura was nicer but when she said, ‘Don’t cry dear. I will get you another kitten,’ I saw she didn’t understand either. I don’t want another kitten. If I had millions of kittens they wouldn’t make up for Mike.
“Ilse and I buried him in Lofty John’s bush. I am so thankful the ground wasn’t frozen yet. Aunt Laura gave me a shoe box for a coffin, and some pink tissue paper to wrap his poor little body in. And we put a stone over the grave and I said ‘Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord.’ When I told Aunt Laura about it she was horrified and said, ‘Oh, Emily, that was a dreadful thing. You should not have said that over a cat.’ And Cousin Jimmy said, ‘Don’t you think, Laura, that an innocent little dum creature has a share in God? Emily loved him and all love is part of God.’ And Aunt Laura said, ‘Maybe you are right, Jimmy. But I am thankful Elizabeth did not hear her.’
“Cousin Jimmy may not be all there, but what is there is very nice.
“But oh, Father, I am so lonesome for Mike tonight. Last night he was here playing with me, so cunning and pretty and smee, and now he is cold and dead in Lofty John’s bush.
