Good? What did that remind Julie of? Oh, yes! Last Sunday’s Golden Text: “Overcome evil with good.” Ed Black was certainly evil in Julie’s eyes—then ought she to do good to him? A sudden idea jumped in her mind, choking her and making her clutch her cookie fast. It was an awful idea. She could not possibly do it. It would be a dreadful thing to do. How all the children would laugh! But just because it was so awful, and would bring public opinion so down on her, a stern compulsion to do it seized her.
A tyrant within rose up and challenged her: “You don’t dare to do it,” the tyrant taunted. “All the children will laugh at you—you don’t dare—” “I do dare! I do!” Julie cried back at the tyrant, a cold perspiration breaking out.
The bell was ringing for the afternoon session when she reached the schoolhouse, and the children were flocking up the steps to the door. Edward Black, big and untidy, stood on the top step. His hair was tousled, his coat torn; his hands were chapped and grimy with dirt. Through the parti-colored surge of children Julie pressed up to him, and held out her cookie.
“What’s that?” he demanded, bringing his scornful eyes down upon her.
“A cookie,” Julie wavered. “It’s—it’s good.”
“A cookie?” He snatched it from her. “Well, if you ain’t the biggest little fool! Look a’ here!” he shouted. “Look what Julie Rose give me. A cookie! Haw! Haw! Haw!” He waved the gift for all to see, and his hoarse mirth ran down the line of children, in surprise, contemptuous laughter, and ejaculation. And only Julie’s shrinking and inadequate little body stood between her soul and the stabs of the other children’s derision. “Here—I don’t want anything from you!” Edward cried, and flung the cookie in her face. It struck her cheek and bounded from thence down to the dirty steps, where the oncoming children kicked at it, deriding it and trampling it into a pulp with the mud and snow on their shoes, while Edward Black went haw-hawing loudly into school.
“Julie! You are the biggest little idiot!” Henr’etta whispered, sharply, when they were seated at their desks, and the school was quieting down. “What in the name of common sense made you go and give your cookie to that hateful piece when he’d been so mean to you?”
“It—it was the text,” Julie stammered.
“The text? What text? Quit shaking so, Julie! What text?”
“Last Sunday’s,” Julie gasped.