Over a valley filled with beech and spruce was a sunset afterglow -- creamy yellow and a hue that was not so much red as the dream of red , with a young moon swung low in it . The air was sweet with the breath of mown hayfields where swaths of clover had been steeping in the sun . Wild roses grew pinkly along the fences , and the roadsides were star-dusted with buttercups . Those of us who had nothing the matter with our consciences enjoyed our walk to the little whitewashed schoolhouse in the valley . Felicity and Cecily were void of offence towards all men . The Story Girl walked uprightly like an incarnate flame in her crimson silk . Her pretty feet were hidden in the tan-coloured , buttoned Paris boots which were the secret envy of every school girl in Carlisle . But Sara Ray was not happy . Her face was so melancholy that the Story Girl lost patience with her . The Story Girl herself was not altogether at ease . Probably her own conscience was troubling her . But admit it she would not . `` Now , Sara , '' she said , `` you just take my advice and go into this with all your heart if you go at all . Never mind if it is bad . There 's no use being naughty if you spoil your fun by wishing all the time you were good . You can repent afterwards , but there is no use in mixing the two things together . '' `` I 'm not repenting , '' protested Sara . `` I 'm only scared of ma finding it out . '' `` Oh ! '' The Story Girl 's voice expressed her scorn .
For remorse she had understanding and sympathy ; but fear XXXXX her fellow creatures was something unknown to her .
Over as at by if in like of that with