“No, but,” continued Faith, growing scarlet, “if we bind ourselves at all, wouldn’t it be better to try and be kind instead of binding ourselves to do something kind and brave and all that? Because, though, I can’t exactly explain what I mean, doing things isn’t always being them. One may do a kind thing without being really kind.”
“What on earth do you mean?” asked Diana.
“This sort of thing,” said Faith. “Last evening when poor little Gaston looked through the door at us all eating cherries—”
“Well, we gave him some,” said Andrew.
“Yes, and giving him a handful of cherries was a kind act, but you were not kind in giving them to him. You called him a flabby French frog and in such a nasty tone too, I’m quite sure that he would have been much happier if he hadn’t had the cherries at all.”
“Yes,” said Jack, “I see what you mean, you dear pious old Fay, but look here, we’re going to turn over a new leaf altogether, you know, and we mean both to be good and to do good.”
“Still,” said Phoena, “Fay’s right, Di’s scheme won’t do. To start with, we shouldn’t probably have all an equal chance of doing great things, and then besides,” Phoena rather faltered over this bit of plain speaking, “besides we are none of us so extra kind and good, you know, that we are likely to—”
“Have some goodness to spare for every day in the week, that’s what you mean to say,” wound up Di.
“Something like it,” admitted Phoena, “so that we had better be contented with all trying to do our best, and then at the end of our time we must all solemnly consider whose best is bestest.”
Then followed a tremendous argument as to what kind of deed should be considered best. On this point, there were of course so many different opinions that the discussion bid fair to last to midnight, had not Hubert’s shrill tones asserted themselves.