She remembered the day of her six-year-old christening, when her remarkable name had been given her and she had asked: “Is courage something that people have, Papa? Have I got it?” and he had told her, “Courage is something that people have, dear, something fine, and I hope you will have it.”
Yes, she would try, even in this dark hour, to live up to her father’s hope for her, and so her resolve was taken.
But the four bright-eyed little children knew nothing of any resolve; they would not have understood what it meant if they had, and as for their singing a pathetic little chorus in any one’s heart, they were altogether unconscious of that as well. But one thing they did know, and that was they should never see Miss Julia again in this world, and they thought they also knew that a beautiful plan she had made for them could never be carried out. The wisest thing, therefore, for these four little people was to put, so far as possible, all thought of the plan from their minds, and Mary, the eldest of the four, said as much to the others.
“Oh, don’t let us think about it any more,” she urged, earnestly. “If we only could have Miss Julia back what would we care for anything else? Besides, when you think what has happened, it seems selfish, and as though we did not have any hearts, to grieve over our own little plans for a moment.”
“But it wasn’t just over our own little plan,” insisted her younger brother Teddy, “it was Miss Julia’s plan for us, and I don’t think it strange a bit that we should grieve over it.”
“Neither do I,” urged Allan, who came next to Teddy in age. “Of course us boys, not going to the sewing-school, did not know Miss Julia as well as you, but I just guess there wasn’t a boy who thought more of her than I did. What’s more I loved her; not making a fuss over her, to be sure, like you girls, still I did really love her,” (emphasising the word by a shake of his head, and firm pursing of his lips). “All the same, I think it’s natural we should feel awfully disappointed.” Gertrude who was seven, and the youngest of the four, nodded in approval of the stand Allan had taken, and continued nodding, as he added, “We haven’t travelled so much, seems to me, or had so much change in our lives as to settle back to the idea of a hot summer here in town, instead of going to the country, without feeling it a bit; that is, I don’t think we have.”
Mary sighed and said nothing, as though ready to admit, after all, that perhaps it was natural that they should take their disappointment somewhat to heart, but the tears that had sprung suddenly into her eyes were from real longing for Miss Julia and not from the disappointment.