"He will be," said Cecily. "If it's the Judgment Day for Prince Edward Island it will be for Europe, too."
"I wish we could just KNOW whether what the paper says is true or not," said Felix desperately. "It seems to me I could brace up if I just KNEW."
But to whom could we appeal? Uncle Alec was away and would not be back until late that night. Neither Aunt Janet nor Uncle Roger were people to whom we cared to apply in such a crisis. We were afraid of the Judgment Day; but we were almost equally afraid of being laughed at. How about Aunt Olivia?
"No, Aunt Olivia has gone to bed with a sick headache and mustn't be disturbed," said the Story Girl. "She said I must get dinner ready, because there was plenty of cold meat, and nothing to do but boil the potatoes and peas, and set the table. I don't know how I can put my thoughts into it when the Judgment Day may be tomorrow. Besides, what is the good of asking the grown-ups? They don't know anything more about this than we do."
"But if they'd just SAY they didn't believe it, it would be a sort of comfort," said Cecily.
"I suppose the minister would know, but he's away on his vacation" said Felicity. "Anyhow, I'll go and ask mother what she thinks of it."
Felicity picked up the Enterprise and betook herself to the house. We awaited her return in dire suspense.
"Well, what does she say?" asked Cecily tremulously.
"She said, 'Run away and don't bother me. I haven't any time for your nonsense.'" responded Felicity in an injured tone. "And I said, 'But, ma, the paper SAYS tomorrow is the Judgment Day,' and ma just said 'Judgment Fiddlesticks!'"
"Well, that's kind of comforting," said Peter. "She can't put any faith in it, or she'd be more worked up."
"If it only wasn't PRINTED!" said Dan gloomily.
"Let's all go over and ask Uncle Roger," said Felix desperately.
That we should make Uncle Roger a court of last resort indicated all too clearly the state of our minds. But we went. Uncle Roger was in his barn-yard, hitching his black mare into the buggy. His copy of the Enterprise was sticking out of his pocket. He looked, as we saw with sinking hearts, unusually grave and preoccupied. There was not a glimmer of a smile about his face.
"You ask him," said Felicity, nudging the Story Girl.
"Uncle Roger," said the Story Girl, the golden notes of her voice threaded with fear and appeal, "the Enterprise says that tomorrow is the Judgment Day? IS it? Do YOU think it is?"
"I'm afraid so," said Uncle Roger gravely. "The Enterprise is always very careful to print only reliable news."
"But mother doesn't believe it," cried Felicity.
Uncle Roger shook his head.
"That is just the trouble," he said. "People won't believe it till it's too late. I'm going straight to Markdale to pay a man there some money I owe him, and after dinner I'm going to Summerside to buy me a new suit. My old one is too shabby for the Judgment Day."
He got into his buggy and drove away, leaving eight distracted mortals behind him.
"Well, I suppose that settles it," said Peter, in despairing tone.
"Is there anything we can do to PREPARE?" asked Cecily.
"I wish I had a white dress like you girls," sobbed Sara Ray. "But I haven't, and it's too late to get one. Oh, I wish I had minded what ma said better. I wouldn't have disobeyed her so often if I'd thought the Judgment Day was so near. When I go home I'm going to tell her about going to the magic lantern show."
"I'm not sure that Uncle Roger meant what he said," remarked the Story Girl. "I couldn't get a look into his eyes. If he was trying to hoax us there would have been a twinkle in them. He can never help that. You know he would think it a great joke to frighten us like this. It's really dreadful to have no grown-ups you can depend on."
"We could depend on father if he was here," said Dan stoutly. "HE'D tell us the truth."
"He would tell us what he THOUGHT was true, Dan, but he couldn't KNOW. He's not such a well-educated man as the editor of the Enterprise. No, there's nothing to do but wait and see."
"Let us go into the house and read just what the Bible does say about it," suggested Cecily.
We crept in carefully, lest we disturb Aunt Olivia, and Cecily found and read the significant portion of Holy Writ. There was little comfort for us in that vivid and terrible picture.
"Well," said the Story Girl finally. "I must go and get the potatoes ready. I suppose they must be boiled even if it is the Judgment Day tomorrow. But I don't believe it is."
"And I've got to go and stump elderberries," said Peter. "I don't see how I can do it—go away back there alone. I'll feel scared to death the whole time."
"Tell Uncle Roger that, and say if tomorrow is the end of the world that there is no good in stumping any more fields," I suggested.
"Yes, and if he lets you off then we'll know he was in earnest," chimed in Cecily. "But if he still says you must go that'll be a sign he doesn't believe it."
Leaving the Story Girl and Peter to peel their potatoes, the rest of us went home, where Aunt Janet, who had gone to the well and found the fragments of the old blue cup, gave poor Felicity a bitter scolding about it. But Felicity bore it very patiently—nay, more, she seemed to delight in it.
"Ma can't believe tomorrow is the last day, or she wouldn't scold like that," she told us; and this comforted us until after dinner, when the Story Girl and Peter came over and told us that Uncle Roger had really gone to Summerside. Then we plunged down into fear and wretchedness again.
"But he said I must go and stump elderberries just the same" said Peter. "He said it might NOT be the Judgment Day tomorrow, though he believed it was, and it would keep me out of mischief. But I just can't stand it back there alone. Some of you fellows must come with me. I don't want you to work, but just for company."
It was finally decided that Dan and Felix should go. I wanted to go also, but the girls protested.
"YOU must stay and keep us cheered up," implored Felicity. "I just don't know how I'm ever going to put in the afternoon. I promised Kitty Marr that I'd go down and spend it with her, but I can't now. And I can't knit any at my lace. I'd just keep thinking, 'What is the use? Perhaps it'll all be burned up tomorrow.'"
So I stayed with the girls, and a miserable afternoon we had of it. The Story Girl again and again declared that she "didn't believe it," but when we asked her to tell a story, she evaded it with a flimsy excuse. Cecily pestered Aunt Janet's life out, asking repeatedly, "Ma, will you be washing Monday?" "Ma, will you be going to prayer meeting Tuesday night?" "Ma, will you be preserving raspberries next week?" and various similar questions. It was a huge comfort to her that Aunt Janet always said, "Yes," or "Of course," as if there could be no question about it.
Sara Ray cried until I wondered how one small head could contain all the tears she shed. But I do not believe she was half as much frightened as disappointed that she had no white dress. In mid-afternoon Cecily came downstairs with her forget-me-not jug in her hand—a dainty bit of china, wreathed with dark blue forget-me-nots, which Cecily prized highly, and in which she always kept her toothbrush.
"Sara, I am going to give you this jug," she said solemnly.
Now, Sara had always coveted this particular jug. She stopped crying long enough to clutch it delightedly.
"Oh, Cecily, thank you. But are you sure you won't want it back if tomorrow isn't the Judgment Day?"
"No, it's yours for good," said Cecily, with the high, remote air of one to whom forget-me-not jugs and all such pomps and vanities of the world were as a tale that is told.
"Are you going to give any one your cherry vase?" asked Felicity, trying to speak indifferently. Felicity had never admired the forget-me-not jug, but she had always hankered after the cherry vase—an affair of white glass, with a cluster of red glass cherries and golden-green glass leaves on its side, which Aunt Olivia had given Cecily one Christmas.