Emily of New Moon by L. M. Montgomery Read Free Book Online

her—all except Aunt Laura, who turned at the door and blew her a tiny, furtive kiss. Before Emily could respond Ellen Greene had shut the door.
    Emily was left all alone in the room that was filling with twilight shadows. The pride that had sustained her in the presence of the Murrays suddenly failed her and she knew that tears were coming. She went straight to the closed door at the end of the parlor, opened it, and went in. Her father’s coffin stood in the center of the small room which had been a bedroom. It was heaped with flowers—the Murrays had done the proper thing in that as in all else. The great anchor of white roses Uncle Wallace had brought stood up aggressively on the small table at the head. Emily could not see her father’s face for Aunt Ruth’s heavily-fragrant pillow of white hyacinths lying on the glass, and she dared not move it. But she curled herself up on the floor and laid her cheek against the polished side of the casket. They found her there asleep when they came in after supper. Aunt Laura lifted her up and said,
    â€œI’m going to take the poor child up to bed—she’s worn right out.”
    Emily opened her eyes and looked drowsily about her.
    â€œCan I have Mike?” she said.
    â€œWho is Mike?”
    â€œMy cat—my big gray cat.”
    â€œA cat!” exclaimed Aunt Elizabeth in a shocked tone. “You must not have a cat in your bedroom!”
    â€œWhy not—for once?” pleaded Laura.
    â€œCertainly not!” said Aunt Elizabeth. “A cat is a most unwholesome thing in a sleeping apartment. I’m surprised at you, Laura! Take the child up to bed and see that there are plenty of bedclothes. It’s a cold night—but let me hear no more talk of sleeping with cats.”
    â€œMike is a clean cat,” said Emily. “He washes himself—every day.”
    â€œTake her up to bed, Laura!” said Aunt Elizabeth, ignoring Emily.
    Aunt Laura yielded meekly. She carried Emily upstairs, helped her undress, and tucked her into bed. Emily was very sleepy. But before she was wholly asleep she felt something, soft and warm and purry and companionable, snuggling down by her shoulder. Aunt Laura had sneaked down, found Mike and brought him up to her. Aunt Elizabeth never knew and Ellen Greene dared not say a word in protest—for was not Laura a Murray of New Moon?

CHAPTER 4
    A Family Conclave
    Emily wakened at daylight the next morning. Through her low, uncurtained window the splendor of the sunrise was coming in, and one faint, white star was still lingering in the crystal-green sky over the Rooster Pine. A fresh sweet wind of dawn was blowing around the eaves. Ellen Greene was sleeping in the big bed and snoring soundly. Except for that the little house was very still. It was the chance for which Emily had waited.
    Very carefully she slipped from her bed, tiptoed across the room and opened the door. Mike uncoiled himself from the mat on the middle of the floor and followed her, rubbing his warm sides against her chilly little ankles. Almost guiltily she crept down the bare, dark staircase. How the steps creaked—surely it would waken everybody! But nobody appeared and Emily got down and slipped into the parlor, drawing a long breath of relief as she closed the door. She almost ran across the room to the other door.
    Aunt Ruth’s floral pillow still covered the glass of the casket. Emily, with a tightening of the lips that gave her face an odd resemblance to Aunt Elizabeth, lifted up the pillow and set it on the floor.
    â€œOh, Father—Father!” she whispered, putting her hand to her throat to keep something down. She stood there, a little shivering, white-clad figure, and looked at her father. This was to be her good-bye; she must say it when they were alone together—she would not say it before the Murrays.
    Father looked so beautiful. All the lines of pain had vanished—his face looked