ing, minor harmonies, and with sunlight stealing through the
stained-glass window above the pulpit in colourful beauty that pierced
to her very soul. But that was a long time ago, when she was a little
thing--only ten. Now she was nearly sixteen. Things were different. One
now was conscious of the reality of inward inexperiences: these must
influence life--one's own and, haply, the lives of others. What Missy
did not emphasize in her mind was the mystery of how piety evolved from
white fox furs and white fox furs finally evolved from piety. But she
did perceive that it would be hopeless to try to explain her motives
about Arthur as mixed up with the acquisition of the white fox furs...
No; not even Tess O'Neill could have grasped the true inwardness of it
all.

It all began, as nearly as one could fix on a concrete beginning, with
Genevieve Hicks's receiving a set of white fox furs for Christmas. The
furs were soft and silky and luxurious, and Genevieve might well have
been excused for wearing them rather triumphantly. Missy wasn't at all
envious by nature and she tried to be fair-minded in this case, but she
couldn't help begrudging Genevieve her regal air.

Genevieve had paraded her becoming new finery past the Merriam residence
on several Sunday afternoons, but this wasn't the entire crux of Missy's
discontent. Genevieve and the white fox furs were escorted by Arthur
Summers.

Now, Arthur had more than once asked Missy herself to "go walking" on
Sunday afternoons. But Mrs. Merriam had said Missy was too young
for such things. And when Missy, in rebuttal, once pointed out the
promenading Genevieve, Mrs. Merriam had only replied that Genevieve's
mother ought to know better--that Genevieve was a frivolous-minded girl,
anyway.

Missy, peering through the parlour lace curtains, made no answer; but
she thought: "Bother! Everybody can go walking but me!"

Then she thought:

"She's laughing awful loud. She is frivolous-minded."

Then:

"He looks as if he's having a good time, too; he's laughing back
straight at her. I wonder if he thinks she's very pretty."

And then:

"I wish I had some white fox furs."

That evening at the supper-table Missy voiced her desire. There were
just the four of them at the table--father, mother, Aunt Nettie and
herself. Missy sat silent, listening to the talk of the grownups; but
their voices floated to her as detached, far-off sounds, because she
was engrossed in looking at a ment