The Golden Road
XXVII. The Old Order Changeth
"I am going away with father when he goes. He is going to spend the winter in
Paris, and I am to go to school there."
The Story Girl told us this one day in the orchard. There was a little elation in her
tone, but more regret. The news was not a great surprise to us. We had felt it in
the air ever since Uncle Blair's arrival. Aunt Janet had been very unwilling to let
the Story Girl go. But Uncle Blair was inexorable. It was time, he said, that she
should go to a better school than the little country one in Carlisle; and besides,
he did not want her to grow into womanhood a stranger to him. So it was finally
decided that she was to go.
"Just think, you are going to Europe," said Sara Ray in an awe- struck tone.
"Won't that be splendid!"
"I suppose I'll like it after a while," said the Story Girl slowly, "but I know I'll be
dreadfully homesick at first. Of course, it will be lovely to be with father, but oh, I'll
miss the rest of you so much!"
"Just think how WE'LL miss YOU," sighed Cecily. "It will be so lonesome here
this winter, with you and Peter both gone. Oh, dear, I do wish things didn't have
Felicity said nothing. She kept looking down at the grass on which she sat,
absently pulling at the slender blades. Presently we saw two big tears roll down
over her cheeks. The Story Girl looked surprised.
"Are you crying because I'm going away, Felicity?" she asked.
"Of course I am," answered Felicity, with a big sob. "Do you think I've no f-f-
"I didn't think you'd care much," said the Story Girl frankly. "You've never seemed
to like me very much."
"I d-don't wear my h-heart on my sleeve," said poor Felicity, with an attempt at
dignity. "I think you m-might stay. Your father would let you s-stay if you c-coaxed
"Well, you see I'd have to go some time," sighed the Story Girl, "and the longer it
was put off the harder it would be. But I do feel dreadfully about it. I can't even
take poor Paddy. I'll have to leave him behind, and oh, I want you all to promise
to be kind to him for my sake."
We all solemnly assured her that we would.
"I'll g-give him cream every m-morning and n-night," sobbed Felicity, "but I'll
never be able to look at him without crying. He'll make me think of you."
"Well, I'm not going right away," said the Story Girl, more cheerfully. "Not till the
last of October. So we have over a month yet to have a good time in. Let's all just
determine to make it a splendid month for the last. We won't think about my