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

Murrays were all going but Emily was not to go. She watched the funeral procession as it wound up the long, grassy hill, through the light gray rain that was beginning to fall. Emily was glad it was raining; many a time she had heard Ellen Greene say that happy was the corpse the rain fell on; and it was easier to see Father go away in that soft, kind, gray mist than through sparkling, laughing sunshine.
    â€œWell, I must say the funeral went off fine,” said Ellen Greene at her shoulder. “Everything’s been done regardless. If your father was looking down from heaven at it, Emily, I’m sure he’d be pleased.”
    â€œHe isn’t in heaven,” said Emily.
    â€œGood gracious! Of all the children!” Ellen could say no more.
    â€œHe isn’t there yet . He’s only on the way. He said he’d wait around and go slow until I died, too, so that I could catch up with him. I hope I’ll die soon.”
    â€œThat’s a wicked, wicked thing to wish,” rebuked Ellen.
    When the last buggy had disappeared Emily went back to the sitting-room, got a book out of the bookcase, and buried herself in the wing-chair. The women who were tidying up were glad she was quiet and out of the way.
    â€œIt’s well she can read,” said Mrs. Hubbard gloomily. “Some little girls couldn’t be so composed—Jennie Hood just screamed and shrieked after they carried her mother out—the Hoods are all such a feeling people.”
    Emily was not reading. She was thinking. She knew the Murrays would be back in the afternoon; and she knew her fate would probably be settled then. “We’ll talk the matter over when we come back,” she had heard Uncle Wallace saying that morning after breakfast. Some instinct told her just what “the matter” was; and she would have given one of her pointed ears to hear the discussion with the other. But she knew very well she would be sent out of the way. So she was not surprised when Ellen came to her in the twilight and said:
    â€œYou’d better go upstairs, Emily. Your aunts and uncles are coming in here to talk over the business.”
    â€œCan’t I help you get supper?” asked Emily, who thought that if she were going and coming around the kitchen she might catch a word or two.
    â€œNo. You’d be more bother than help. March, now.”
    Ellen waddled out to the kitchen, without waiting to see if Emily marched. Emily got up reluctantly. How could she sleep tonight if she did not know what was going to happen to her? And she felt quite sure she would not be told till morning, if then.
    Her eyes fell on the oblong table in the center of the room. Its cloth was of generous proportions, falling in heavy folds to the floor. There was a flash of black stockings across the rug, a sudden disturbance of drapery and then—silence. Emily, on the floor under the table, arranged her legs comfortably and sat triumphant. She would hear what was decided and nobody would be any the wiser.
    She had never been told that it was not considered strictly honorable to eavesdrop, no occasion for such instruction ever having arisen in her life with her father; and she considered that it was a bit of pure luck that she had thought of hiding under the table. She could even see dimly through the cloth. Her heart beat so loudly in her excitement that she was afraid they would hear it; there was no other sound save the soft, faraway singing of frogs through the rain, that sounded through the open window.
    In they came; down they sat around the room; Emily held her breath; for a few minutes nobody spoke, though Aunt Eva sighed long and heavily. Then Uncle Wallace cleared his throat and said,
    â€œWell, what is to be done with the child?”
    Nobody was in a hurry to answer. Emily thought they would never speak. Finally Aunt Eva said with a whine,
    â€œShe’s such a difficult child—so odd. I can’t understand her at