Read Emily of New Moon for Free Online Page B

than those of sense, the wonderful world behind the veil. Courage and hope flooded her cold little soul like a wave of rosy light. She lifted her head and looked about her undauntedly—“brazenly” Aunt Ruth afterwards declared.
    Yes, she would write them all out in the account book—describe every last one of them—sweet Aunt Laura, nice Cousin Jimmy, grim old Uncle Wallace, and moonfaced Uncle Oliver, stately Aunt Elizabeth, and detestable Aunt Ruth.
    â€œShe’s a delicate-looking child,” said Aunt Eva, suddenly, in her fretful, colorless voice.
    â€œWell, what else could you expect?” said Aunt Addie, with a sigh that seemed to Emily to hold some dire significance. “She’s too pale—if she had a little color she wouldn’t be bad-looking.”
    â€œI don’t know who she looks like,” said Uncle Oliver, staring at Emily.
    â€œShe is not a Murray, that is plain to be seen,” said Aunt Elizabeth, decidedly and disapprovingly.
    â€œThey are talking about me just as if I wasn’t here,” thought Emily, her heart swelling with indignation over the indecency of it.
    â€œI wouldn’t call her a Starr either,” said Uncle Oliver. “Seems to me she’s more like the Byrds—she’s got her grandmother’s hair and eyes.”
    â€œShe’s got old George Byrd’s nose,” said Aunt Ruth, in a tone that left no doubt as to her opinion of George’s nose.
    â€œShe’s got her father’s forehead,” said Aunt Eva, also disapprovingly.
    â€œShe has her mother’s smile,” said Aunt Laura, but in such a low tone that nobody heard her.
    â€œAnd Juliet’s long lashes—hadn’t Juliet very long lashes?” said Aunt Addie.
    Emily had reached the limit of her endurance.
    â€œYou make me feel as if I was made up of scraps and patches!” she burst out indignantly.
    The Murrays stared at her. Perhaps they felt some compunction—for, after all, none of them were ogres and all were human, more or less. Apparently nobody could think of anything to say, but the shocked silence was broken by a chuckle from Cousin Jimmy—a low chuckle, full of mirth and free from malice.
    â€œThat’s right, puss,” he said. “Stand up to them—take your own part.”
    â€œJimmy!” said Aunt Ruth.
    Jimmy subsided.
    Aunt Ruth looked at Emily.
    â€œWhen I was a little girl,” she said, “I never spoke until I was spoken to.”
    â€œBut if nobody ever spoke until they were spoken to there would be no conversation,” said Emily argumentatively
    â€œI never answered back,” Aunt Ruth went on severely. “In those days little girls were trained properly. We were polite and respectful to our elders. We were taught our place and we kept it.”
    â€œI don’t believe you ever had much fun,” said Emily—and then gasped in horror. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud—she had only meant to think it. But she had such an old habit of thinking aloud to Father.
    â€œFun!” said Aunt Ruth, in a shocked tone. “I did not think of fun when I was a little girl.”
    â€œNo, I know,” said Emily gravely. Her voice and manner were perfectly respectful, for she was anxious to atone for her involuntary lapse. Yet Aunt Ruth looked as if she would like to box her ears. This child was pitying her—insulting her by being sorry for her —because of her prim, impeccable childhood. It was unendurable—especially in a Starr. And that abominable Jimmy was chuckling again! Elizabeth should suppress him!
    Fortunately Ellen Greene appeared at this juncture and announced supper.
    â€œYou’ve got to wait,” she whispered to Emily. “There ain’t room for you at the table.”
    Emily was glad. She knew she could not eat a bite under the Murray eyes. Her aunts and uncles filed out stiffly without looking at