 section 49 of uncollected short stories of LM Montgomery. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by D. Randall. Uncollected short stories of LM Montgomery by Lucy Maud Montgomery. The deferment of Hester first published the Blue Book magazine July 1907. I knew it was Hester as soon as I stepped off the train. It is not often that a stranger answers to our preconception of her, especially when said preconception has no better foundation than the shifting sand of two very brief business letters, but Hester did. A tall woman, but not overtall. Stoutish yet with a certain restraint of outline. Suggestive of a thrifty soul who was not going to be over lavish, even in the matter of affidavits. Dressed in a palpable second vest with a head chosen less for vein or dormant than for qualities that would wear well. A knot of soft crimpy brown hair with a thread or two of gray in it and a sunny face with full-blown red cheeks and brisk brown eyes. I liked her. When I had been prospecting about for some place in which to spend my vacation, a young woman whom I had met at a slum mission committee conference told me she had boarded the preceding summer at Hester Suites Wayside Valley Road and could conscientiously recommend it. I made a note of the recommendation, not so much because of her conscience as because I took a fancy to the name of Hester Suites. So I wrote to the latter, using the young woman of the slum committee's name as a sort of reference. This was a false move because as I discovered later on, Hester did not like the young woman aforesaid, but luckily she liked my handwriting and moreover had had a sister Sally who had died young, for which excellent reasons Hester agreed to take me in for the months of July and August. I suppose you're Miss Jordan, said Hester briskly. I'm real glad to see you. My, you don't look a mite like I expected. I made sure you'd be fair. My sister Sally was fair and you're real dark complexed. Well, well, we're all as we're made to be sure. Before we had driven a mile, Hester had implored me not to call her Miss Sweet and I had bargained with her to call me Sally. We were chums from that moment. Valley Road was four miles from the station and Wayside was the name of Hester's place. I gurgled with satisfaction when we reached it. The house was small and white and low-eve, set down in a most delightfully picturesque little hollow that dropped away from the road. Between road and house was an apple orchid and flower garden all mixed up together. Popplars, stiff, prim, Lombardi stood about it and the front door walk was bordered with clam shells. There was honeysuckle over the parlor windows and ivy over the front door and moss on the roof. It was the sort of house I had seen in happy dreams but I had never hoped for such good luck as spending the summer in one. When Hester showed me up to my room I was ready to cry for joy. The ceiling was low and sloping and the floor sagged and there was such an odd cornery window with small panes curtained by a white Muslim frill. The ivy made it so dim I could hardly see my way about and there was always a little swish sounding through it from the popplars outside. I thought it all delicious and said so. Hester loved me for it just as she had hated the slum mission committee young woman because the latter had said so much shade was unhygienic and objected to sleeping on the feather bed. Now I glory in feather beds and the more feathery and unhygienic they are, the more I glory. Hester's cooking too deserved to be ranked among the fine arts. She concocted such rich lovely plummy things. She told me it was such a comfort to see me eat. She had been so afraid that I would be like the slum mission young woman who wouldn't eat anything but fruit and hot water for breakfast and tried to make Hester cook on scientific principles. Just as if anyone could make donuts on scientific principles. Hester's donuts were the very apotheosis of donuts and she didn't even go by a recipe. It is such a delight in these enlightened days to stumble on one of those genuine old-fashioned cooks who don't care a bit if they ruin your digestion so long as they can give you feast of fat things. Wayside was quiet and dreamy. There was nothing to do and I did it thoroughly. Nevertheless I did not object to mild dissipation and when Hester asked me to accompany her to the Thursday night prayer meeting I agreed with the Lackardy. Hester blossed them out like the rose to attend that prayer meeting. I was amazed. She wore a pale blue lawn dress with the design of pansies in it and more ruffles than I should ever have suspected economical Hester to be guilty of. Also a white straw head with pink roses and ostrich feathers on it. I thought she put them on because prayer meeting was the only social function Valley Road had but later on I discovered another motive. Valley Road prayer meetings were essentially feminine. The men seldom went not because they were irreligious but because they regarded the prayer meeting as a woman's affair. There were 32 women present two half grown boys and one solitary man besides the minister. Hester and I set up in the front seat. She enjoyed herself hugely leading the singing and answering the Bible class lesson questions before any of the other women could get their mouths in shape to do so. But I founded a little doll and betook myself to studying the aforesaid solitary man who set facing us in a corner and looking dismally out of place. He was not handsome or young or graceful. He had remarkably long legs so long that he had to keep them coiled up under the seat to dispose of them and he was stoop shouldered. His hands were big and his hair wanted barboring and his beard was rather uncamped but I liked his face. It was kindly and honest and tender. There was something else in it too. I couldn't decide just what and it was this that interested me. I was in pursuit of that elusive quality all through prayer meeting. Finally I concluded that this man's ancestors had suffered and been strong and it was made manifest in his face. There was a sort of patient humorous endurance in his expression that indicated he would go to the stake if need be but would keep on looking pleasant until he really had to begin squirming. I rather wonder what he went to prayer meeting for when it was so plainly unfashionable for his sex but I found out later on. He went for the same reason that Hester put on her pantsie dress a motive as old as Eden. When we went out it was a bright moonlight night. As Hester and I walked down the road this one solitary man came up to us and said, May I see you home Hester? Hester took his arm as prim and shy as if she were only sixteen. Miss Jordan permit me to introduce Mr. Douglas. She said with awesome politeness. Mr. Douglas was lovely. He nodded and said, I was looking at you in prayer meeting miss and thinking what a nice little girl you were. I like to be told I'm a nice little girl because I'm really too tall and I was so much obliged to Mr. Douglas that I dropped discreetly behind soon after and left him and Hester as much along as I could considering that there were cows on the road. I was delighted to find that Hester had a bow. I had been sincerely pithying the man who had miss marrying her. Hester would have made a paragon of a wife cheery, economical, tolerant and a very queen of cooks and it was flagrant waste on nature's part not to have arranged matters better. I was glad to see that they were coming out all right after all. The next day Hester told me that John Douglas had asked her to take me up to see his mother. She's bed read most of the time and never goes out of the house, Hester explained, but she's powerful fun of company and always wants to see my borders. I told him we would run up some evening soon. We thought of going up that evening, but later in the day Mr. Douglas called on his mother's behalf to ask us to tea at Uplands the next afternoon. Accordingly we sallied forth the following day at a good early country hour. It was a hot day and Hester between excitement and a black cashmere dress looked as if she were being broad alive. I had entreated her to wear her lawn, but she was firm in her refusal. Old Mrs. Douglas would think it terrible on becoming and frivolous, she explained. John likes that fancy dress though, she added wistfully. Dear Hester, I could have hugged her. She was so much of a woman. Uplands, the old Douglas homestead, was about half a mile from wayside cresting a windy hill. The house itself was a picturesque comfortable farmhouse, old enough to be dignified and girdled with maple groves and orchids. There are big trim barns behind it, and everything fairly screams snugness and prosperity at us as we went up the lane. Whatever the patient endurance in Mr. Douglas's face meant, it didn't mean debts and dons. John Douglas met us at the door. He squeezed Hester's hand, I saw him do it, although I pretended I didn't. Then he told us into the sitting room. There his mother was enthroned in an armchair. I had expected old Mrs. Douglas to be tall because John was so leggy. She wasn't. She was the tiniest might of a woman I ever saw, and might have posed as a grandmother doll. She was dressed in an old fashioned black silk with a fluffy white shawl over her shoulders. Her hair was wavy snow white surmounted by a lovelace cap. She had soft pink cheeks and mild blue eyes and a mouth like a baby's. This all sounds attractive. But I simply didn't like old Mrs. Douglas one bit. Although I could only give a doctor fail reason. The minute I saw her, she made me think of a fat white kitten I once had that would purr on your lap by the hour. And then when you weren't looking dig her claws into you. How do you do, Hester? Purr, Mrs. Douglas, I'm so glad to see you again, dear, and she put her face up to be kissed. Hester gave her a hearty smack and introduced me. I am very glad to meet you, Mr. Orton, said the white kitten. My son has been singing your praises until I'm half jealous. It is very kind of you to come and see an old woman like me. I said something polite, and then we all sat down and talked. Mrs. Douglas made Hester sit by her and patted her hand all the time. She certainly seemed very fond of her. And I was glad for Hester's sake. We had a pleasant time. John Douglas was a good talker. And the old woman kept up her end of it valiantly. Hester didn't say much but sat and smiled, looking horribly uncomfortable in their black cashmere. She reminded me of a peony that was being slowly choked to death. Mrs. Douglas asked Hester to pour the tea and Hester turned redder than ever and did it. After tea, Mrs. Douglas smiled inevolently and told John to take dear Hester out until the garden and get her some roses. Miss Jordan will keep me company while you are gone, won't you? She said so sweetly that if I had been a proper sort of girl, I would have kissed her on the spot and been delighted. But I felt grumpy some way. So I just said certainly as stiff as I knew how. Mrs. Douglas settled into her armchair with a sigh. I am a very frail old woman, Miss Jordan. For over 20 years, I have been a great sufferer. For 20 long weary years, I've been dying by inches, Miss Jordan. And enjoying it, I thought uncharitably. There have been scores of nights when they've never thought I'd live to see the dawn. Mrs. Douglas went on solemnly. Nobody knows what I have gone through. Nobody but myself. Well, it can't last very much longer now. My weary pilgrimage will soon be over. It is a great comfort to me to think that John will have such a good wife to look after him when his mother is gone. A great comfort. I did thought out a little then. Hester is a lovely woman, I say it warmly. Lovely, a beautiful character. Ascented, Mrs. Douglas, and a perfect housekeeper. Something I never was. My health would not permit it. I am indeed thankful that John has made such a wise choice. I hope he will be happy. He is my only son, Miss Jordan. And his happiness lies very near my heart. Of course, I say it stupidly. I wanted to go upstairs and pitch myself for being so horrid and suspicious. Just then John and Hester came in and soon after we went home. Come and see me again soon, dear Hester, said Mrs. Douglas lovingly. You don't come half often enough. But then I suppose John will be bringing you here to stay all the time one of these days. I happened to glance at John when his mother said this. And I am positive I jump. I have known ever since just exactly what a man looked like when they gave the rat the last turn of possible endurance. I thought he must be ill and I hurried poor blushing Hester away. Isn't old Mrs. Douglas the sweet woman? said Hester as we went down the lane. I said it is a very useful thing to say at times. She's been a terrible sufferer said Hester feelingly. She takes terrible spells. It keeps John all worried up. He's scared to leave home for fear his mother will take a spell and nobody but the hired girl there. Sometimes I thought here Hester stopped short. I didn't ask her what she thought. It is one of my few merits that I let people stop when I see they want to. Three days later I found Hester crying. Tears and Hester seemed so incongruous that I was thoroughly scared. Oh what is the matter I cried anxiously. I'm 40 today sob Hester. I didn't laugh. I thought being 40 might be a good reason for crying. While I was casting about for something comforting to say Hester at it with a big gulp. And and John Douglas won't ask me to marry him. Here was tragedy with the vengeance. I tried lamely to cheer and encourage. Oh, but he will I said soothingly. You must give him time Hester. Perhaps time said Hester with indescribable scorn. He has had 20 years. How much time does he want? 20 years. I felt dizzy. Do you mean to say that John Douglas has been coming to see you for 20 years? I gasp. He has said Hester. And he has never so much as mentioned marriage to me. And I don't believe now that he ever will. Tell me all about it Hester I implored. I thought it better for her to talk than cry. Besides, I was eaten up with curiosity. I believe I will said Hester wiping her eyes. I've never said a word to a mortal about it. But it seems to me that I've got to talk it over with someone at last or bust. Not that there's much to tell. John Douglas began to go with me 20 years ago. It was before mother died. I was real pleased for he was the likeliest young man for miles around. Well, he kept coming and coming and after spell I began making quilts and things. But he never said anything about getting married. And just kept coming and coming. There weren't nothing I could do. Why didn't you give him some hints? Strong hints, I interrupted. Hints. I gave him hints strong enough to stand alone. I've done most everything short of popping the question myself. But he never paid no more attention to them than if he had been deaf. Mother died when we had been going together for eight years. I thought then maybe he would speak up saying as I was left all alone in the world. He was real kind and feeling and did everything he could for me. But he never said Mary. And that's the way it's been going on ever since. People blame me for it. They say I won't marry him because his mother is so sickly. And I don't want the bother of waiting on her. Why, I love to wait on John's mother. But I let them think so. I read that they blame me than have them know I don't marry John because he won't ask me. That is so dreadful humiliating. But why doesn't he ask me to seems to me if I only knew his reason. I wouldn't mind it so much. Perhaps his mother doesn't want him to marry anybody. I see it slowly. Oh, she does. She's told me time and time again. She loved to see John settle before her time comes. She's always giving him hints. You heard her the other day. I thought I should have dropped to the floor. It's beyond me, I said helplessly. And it was. Then I grew angry. You should have more spirit, Hester. Why didn't you throw him over long ago? I couldn't, said poor Hester, pathetically. You see Sally, I've always been awful fun of John. He might just as well keep coming as not. For there never was anybody else I wanted to come. So it didn't matter. But it might have made him speak out like a man, I cried. Hester shook her head. No, I guess not. I was afraid to try anyway for fear he think I really meant it and just go. I suppose I'm a poor spirit of creature, but that is how I feel. And I can't help it. Oh, you can help it, Hester, I urge. It isn't too late yet. Take a firm stand. There are a dozen ways you can let John Douglas know that you are not going to put up with his shilly shallowing any longer. I'll back you up. I don't know, said Hester hopelessly. I don't know if I could get up enough spunk. Things have drifted so long. But I'll think it over. I must go and make some biscuit now. I'm an old fool to be sitting here crying at my age. But I wouldn't mind so much if I only know his reason. Perhaps it's just because he's too shy, I said. But I didn't believe it, or Hester either. John Douglas was not at all shy. Really, I felt disappointed in him. I would never have thought he was the sort of man to play fast and loose with the woman's feelings for 20 years. He certainly ought to be taught a lesson. And I felt that I would have enjoyed being the teacher. I beamed with delight when, just as we were starting for prayer meeting the next night, Hester informed me that she meant to take my advice and show some spirit. When John Douglas asked me tonight if he can see me home, I'm just going to tell him he can't, she said. I'm not going to be trotting on any longer. I told Hester she was right. And all through prayer meeting, I looked at John Douglas with a stony, exultant glare in my eyes. My good man, I was thinking joyfully, you are going to get the snub you deserve tonight. It was moonlight again, bright as day. As we stepped over the grass, up came John Douglas and asked Hester if he might see her home. Hester looked frightened but resolute. No, thank you, she said, I sleep. I know the road home pretty well alone. I ought to, seeing as I've been traveling it for some 40 years, so you needn't trouble yourself, Mr. Douglas. I was looking straight at John Douglas as she spoke. And I saw the last twist of the rack again. Without a word he turned and made off down the road. He went so fast that he was almost out of earshot before I regained speech. Stop, stop. I screamed wildly after him. I didn't care who hurt me. Mr. Douglas, stop, come back. He hurt me. And he did stop. I flew down the road after him, caught at his arm and fairly dragged him back to Hester. You must come back, I saw. It's all a mistake. Mr. Douglas, it's all my fault. I made Hester do it. She did not want to, but it's all right now. Isn't it, Hester? He had got back to Hester by this time. And without a word, she took his arm and they started down the road. I hung behind and mopped my eyes. And when I got to wayside, I sneaked in at the front door and straight up to my room, although I was as hungry as a wolf. But after John Douglas had gone, Hester brought me up a perfectly lovely lunch and I set up in bed to eat it. Well, you're a nice person to back one up, said Hester sarcastically. Oh, I couldn't help it, Hester, I said feebly. I just felt as if I stood by and seen murder done. I had to run after him. Oh, I'm just as glad you did, said Hester, turning a furious red. Hester never blushed. She just turned red. If you hadn't done it, I would have had to. When I saw John Douglas making off down the road, I just felt as if every little bit of joy and happiness that was left in my life was going with him. It was an awful feeling. Did he ask you why you did it or anything? I ventured. No, he never said a word about it, said Hester Dolly. I was not without a feeble hope that something would come of our effort after all. But nothing did. John Douglas came and took Hester driving and walked home from prayer meeting with her as he had been doing for 20 years, and as he seemed likely to do for 20 years more. I made one more frenzied effort in Hester's behalf. One evening, when John came to take her out driving, she couldn't go because she had company. So she made me go instead. It was just the chance I wanted. I led the conversation up to the desired point, although John kept veering off with malice of forethought. I know he suspected what was coming. And then I asked him plump and plain why he and Hester didn't get married. There was a man down Osbornway that made quite a fortune minding his own business, said John. It looks horrid, written out, but it didn't sound so very bad the way John Douglas said it. There was such a twinkle in his eye and such a comical twist to his mouth. I only felt snug, not insulted. I soaked for 10 minutes and then I had to laugh. I forgave him and we were good friends again. I did not tell Hester about this. And I strictly followed the example of the Osborn man since fourth. One afternoon in mid August, Alec Ford came driving down wayside in hot haste for Hester. They want you at uplands quick, he said. I really believe old Mrs. Douglas is going to have the satisfaction of dying at last after practicing edit for 20 years. Hester flew to get her head. Is Mrs. Douglas worse than usual this spell? I asked. She's not half as bad said Alex solemnly. And that's what makes me think it's serious. Other times she'd scream and throw herself all over the place. This time she's lying still and mom. When Mrs. Douglas is mom, she is pretty sick, you bet. I was alone until dark and had to get my own supper. It was just twilight when Hester came home. Mrs. Douglas is dead, she said rarely. She died just a few minutes after I got there. She just spoke to me once. I suppose you'll marry John now, she said. It cut me to the heart sally. To think John's mother thought I wouldn't marry him because of her. I couldn't say a word either. There were other women there. I was thankful John had gone out. Hester began to cry durly. But I brewed a hot drink of ginger tea. To be sure, I discovered afterwards that I had put in white pepper instead of ginger. But Hester never noticed the difference and made her go to bed. I could see she was all tired out and nervous. On the evening after the funeral we were sitting out on the front steps at sunset. Hester wore that unspeakable black dress and looked her worst. What with her eyes and nose all red from crying. We didn't talk much. Hester felt driftily blue and dumpish. And I couldn't get her cheered up. So I held my tongue. There are times when people resent being cheered up. All at once the gate latch clicked and there was John Douglas. I had never dreamed of his coming that night. Or I would simply have made Hester array herself in purple and fine linen. For I would have hoped that their first meeting under the new conditions would be the psychic moment and that black cashmere dress might have done to the man forever. John Douglas walked straight over Hester's geranium bed. And Hester stood up. I stood up too. I wore a light pink dress and I am not a small girl by any means. But John Douglas never saw me any more than if I had been a mosquito. The very first words he said were, Hester, will you marry me? The words shot out as if they had been wanting to be said for 20 years and just had to be said now before anything else. Hester's face was so red from crying that it couldn't turn any redder. So it turned a most unbecoming purple. Why didn't you ask me before? She said slowly. I couldn't said John. She made me promise not to mother made me promise not to 20 years ago. Just when I had begun going with you, she took a terrible spell. We thought she couldn't live through it. She implored me to promise that I wouldn't ask you to marry me while she was alive. I didn't want to promise such a thing. Even though we all thought then she couldn't live very long. The doctor gave her six months. But she big did on her knees sick and suffering. She hadn't no spite against you. But she just didn't want another woman there while she was living. She said if I didn't promise she'd die right there. And I'd have killed her. So I promise. And she's helped me to that promise for 20 years. Though I've gone on my knees to her in my turn to beg her to let me off. Why didn't you tell me this said Hester chokingly? Oh, why didn't you tell me? She made me promise I wouldn't tell us all said John huskily. She swore me to it. Hester, you'll never know what I've suffered these 20 years. But you'll marry me for all won't you Hester? Oh, Hester won't you? I've come as soon as I could to ask you. Oh, Hester won't you? He had got hold of her hand and was looking up into that plain commonplace middle age woman's face as if it were a glorified angels. At this moment, I came to my senses and realized that I had no business there. They didn't notice my departure at all because they have forgotten my very existence. I didn't see Hester until the next morning. She came in to wake me up and sat on the edge of my bed and told me all about it. She had forgotten that I had been standing beside her and heard it all. And I let her forget that cruel, relentless deceitful old woman I cried. Hust, she's dead, said Hester solemnly. If she wasn't, but she is, I could never have believed it of her. But I'm happy at last, Sally. And I wouldn't have minded waiting so long a bit if I'd only known why. When are you to be married? I said in September. Of course, it will be very quiet. I suppose people will talk terrible. They'll say I made enough haste to snap John up as soon as his poor mother was out of the way. John wanted to let them know the truth. But I said no, John. She was your mother after all. And we'll keep the secret between us and not cast any shadow on her memory. I don't mind what people say. Now that I know the truth myself, it don't matter a might. And we'll never, I says to him, we'll never mention it to each other again, John. Let it all be buried with her. I said I'd have to tell you because I've been talking the matter over with you. But it wouldn't go any further. Oh, I won't tell it. I agree grumpily. I wanted to publish it far and wide and clear Hester from the charge of selfishness. But of course I had to promise to hold my tongue since she wished me to. And I thought she was a good soul and much more forgiving than I could have been in her place. You must come out to see me married, said Hester. I won't have any other guess. But John thinks there never was the like of you. You must spend every summer with us after this until you get married yourself. And I hope you will get as good a husband as John. I deserve to if I waited 20 years for him, I answered. End of section 49 Section 50 of Uncollected Short Stories of L. M. Montgomery This is a LibreVox recording. All LibreVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibreVox.org. Recording by Julie Burks Uncollected Short Stories of L. M. Montgomery by Lucy Maud Montgomery. Section 50 Maggie's Kitten It was noon recess at the Plimpton School and Maggie Taylor had slipped away to the brook to eat her lunch alone. She never had anything but bread and butter, not always the butter. Her schoolmates laughed at her for this and they sometimes made fun of her patched dresses and shabby hats, so she preferred to go away alone. She would not have minded this if she could only have had a pet of some kind. She envied those of her schoolmates who had a dog or cat. Maggie was very fond of cats. She thought it would be lovely to have a dear little kitten like Lucy Millers. There was a small marshy fin a little distance down the brook from where Maggie sat and presently she heard a faint cry coming from it. It sounded like a kitten's cry. Maggie sprang to her feet and picked her way down to the reeds. Pussy, pussy! she called, peering into the tangled thicket with excited blue eyes. The pitiful cry came again in answer. Maggie stooped and parted a clump of reeds. Underneath them, crouched in a little eyelid of turf, was a small yellow kitten with shining, famished eyes. Maggie caught the poor little creature indignantly from the damp earth. She knew the habit which certain people in Plimpton had of leaving kittens they did not want to keep in the woods to die of hunger. This poor little morsel of yellow fur had evidently been cruelly cast away for this purpose. Its bones were almost sticking through its skin. Maggie ran with it back to a spot where she had eaten her lunch. She had not been hungry, and there was a slice of bread and butter left. She broke off little bits and fed them to the starving kitten. She felt a sense of delight and satisfaction. This was her pet, her own. She knew very well that she would never be allowed to keep the kitten at home. Her mother overworked and impatient to not like cats. Often as Maggie had pleaded for a kitten, she had been refused. Down the brook, visible from where she sat, was an old mould-during shanty. It was a mere box of a place which had been used years ago by a party of sportsmen who were accustomed to spend a week or two there in the duck season. Of late years it had remained unused and was fast going to decay. She decided to keep her kitten there. She could bring it food every day when she came to school. When the school bell rang, she gave her new found, and now purring pet, a regretful hug, then ran with it to the old shooting-box, put it inside with a crust of bread, pulled to the sagging door and left it. She slipped down to see her pet when the school came out. Fluff, as she had decided to call him, seemed quite contented in his new home. It was a good distance from the school and road. Maggie had little fear that anyone would discover her pet. She went home as if she trod on air. She had not far to go. The little house in which she lived was only a quarter of a mile from the school. Maggie sat down on the doorstep to eat her supper of bread and milk. In the stuffy little kitchen behind her, the pale, tired mother was ironing, and the yard her father was cutting wood. He was a tall, thin, bent man, with slow motions and a brooding, discontented face. Maggie ate half her bread and milk. The remainder she poured into a rusty tin pint and hid it under the step. She meant to run up to the old shooting-box with it at dusk. From where she sat, she could see Aunt Jesse Brewster's house. She wondered what it must be like to live in a big, roomy house like that, with great orchards and barns. Maggie knew very little about her Aunt Jesse beyond the fact that she had never spoken to or noticed her small niece, and that nothing made her father so angry as any mention of Aunt Jesse's name. Maggie did not know why, but everyone else in Plimpton knew. Years before, when old Mr. Brewster had died, he left all his property to his daughter, completely ignoring his disliked stepson, James Taylor. But Plimpton people said that Jesse Brewster had done well by her half-brother at first. He remained with her as overseer, and got on well until he married. Miss Brewster did not approve of his selection of a wife. She told him so plainly, and a bitter quarrel was the result. He built a tiny house down by the pond, and tried to make a living by all-around jobs. He worked hard and incessantly, but he seemed to be one of those people who were always unlucky. He never got on. Jesse Brewster did not relent. Apparently it mattered nothing to her if her half-brother and his family were to starve on the roadside. He struggled feebly on in his slow and effectual way. The little family would more than once have suffered actual want if it had not been for his hard-working wife. By her needle and wash-tub, she earned the greater part of their subsistence. Of all this, the old quarrels and heart-burnings, the pinching and the toiling, Maggie was as yet happily ignorant. Her only real trouble had been the lack of playmates and pets. This lack was now supplied, at least in part. She had fluff. On this yellow wave Maggie poured out all the affection of her warm little heart. Often she denied herself food that fluff might sup unstintingly. All her spare time she spent at the old box, playing with and chattering to her pet. It was in August when she found him. When the chill November days came, Maggie began to wonder uneasily how fluff was to be kept through the winter. He could not live in the old shanty, that was certain. He would freeze to death. Neither could she take him home. She knew quite well that no pleadings would win this privilege. One morning a plan darted into her head. It was a gloomy, bitter morning, and there had been hard frost in the night. Fluff mewed with cold and crept into her lap from warmth, shaking his chilled paws comically. Maggie patted him softly, and brooded over her plan. She knew her Aunt Jessie was very fond of cats. Once she had heard her father say bitterly that Jessie Brewster thought more of her cats than she did of her own flesh and blood. If I go up to Aunt Jessie, said Maggie, tremulously to fluff, and tell her what a dear, good kitten you are, I'm most sure she would keep you for the winter. I'd never see you—oh, Fluffy, I don't know what I'll do without you, but it's the only way I can think of. I'll take you up to-night. That evening at dusk Maggie set off. Her heart beat painfully at the thought of facing Aunt Jessie's keen eyes and grim face. But Fluff's precious life was at stake. Fluff ran out to meet her. He was cold and hungry. Maggie put down the milk she had brought for him and cried softly as he lapped it up. I'll be so lonesome without you, Fluffy. And perhaps in the spring you won't know me and won't come back to me. And, oh, Fluffy, dear, I'm so afraid of Aunt Jessie. Perhaps she won't take you in at all, and then I don't know what will do, you poor, dear little thing. Fluff purred, hopefully. Maggie tucked him away under her shawl and set her little blue lips firmly. She must lose no time. There was a short cut up through the woods to the brown house. It seemed very short to Maggie. And it was a very trembling, small figure that crept up to the front door with Fluff cuddled invisibly under her shawl. The warmth from his little body and his deep-toned purr alone gave her courage. But when she heard steps in the hall after she had knocked, she would have run if her feet would have carried her. The door opened and Miss Brewster stood on the threshold, looking down with questioning and surprise at the small shrinking figure on her doorstep. Miss Brewster was a tall, handsome woman with keen, dark eyes. She looked like an obstinate woman, but not an unkind one. What little girl are you? She said, quite gently for her if Maggie hadn't known it. But to the frightened child her voice sounded cold and forbidding. Maggie Taylor, ma'am. She whispered tremulously. A change came over Miss Brewster's face at once. What do you want? She demanded coldly. Maggie felt the change. She was in dire distress, lest all hope for Fluff were gone. Every word of the little pleading she had thought out so carefully vanished from her mind. Yet she must say something before Aunt Jesse would step back and shut the door on her face. In desperation she held forth Fluff, warm and frightened and squirming to Miss Brewster. Please, ma'am, stammered poor Maggie. I thought maybe you'd take in Fluff. I'm afraid he'll freeze. He's an awful good cat. Oh, I'm most sure he won't be any trouble. Please, please take him. He's such a good cat, and he can't live in the old shanty all winter, and they won't let me take him home. The tears came then, and rolled down her cheeks. Fluff had ceased to squirm, evidently realizing that his fate hung in the balance. His head and tail hung down for lornally. Miss Brewster had listened in blank amazement, something like amusement now dawned on her face, but she still spoke suspiciously. Who told you to come here? Nobody, ma'am, sobbed Maggie. I heard you were good to cats, and I couldn't bear to see Fluffy freeze to death, so I just thought I'd come and ask you to take him. It didn't mean any harm, and I know he will be good. He doesn't eat much. Truly, he doesn't eat much. Come in, said Miss Brewster briefly. Maggie followed her timidly into the sitting room. Miss Brewster placed a chair before the fire, and motioned Maggie to sit down. Now, Maggie, if that's your name, tell me all about this. Don't be afraid, child. I'm not going to eat either you or your cat. Maggie drew a long breath and told her aunt all unhesitatingly, how she had found Fluff starving in the woods and had kept him in the old shanty, and how he had grown fat and cunning and so good, and how thawed she was at him, and how she was so afraid he would freeze or get lost when winter came, and how the only way that she could think of to save him was to bring him to her aunt Jessie, who was fond of cats, and might be good to him just for the winter. I suppose, said Miss Brewster severely, when the little plaintive voice ceased, that she would want to run up here every day to see him. Oh, no! said Maggie quickly. I know I could not do that, but I thought perhaps I might come to the edge of the woods just once or twice in the whole winter, and you might let Fluffy come down to see me? Well, I'll keep him for you, said Miss Brewster, looking meditatively into the glow of the fire. Maggie stood up, feeling both glad and sorry. She kissed Fluff's head and whispered a tearful goodbye into his yellow ear before she let him slip to the rug. Wait a minute, child, said Miss Brewster abruptly. She went out of the room and soon returned with a tray in one hand, and a hat and coat in the other. On the tray was a plate of cake and a glass of some warm drink. Eat that, Maggie, she said kindly, and warm yourself well. You aren't half-clothed. I should think you'd be in more danger of freezing to death this winter than that fat kitten. I'll be good to him, never fear. When you have finished your lunch I'll go a little way down the road with you. It's too dark for you to be traveling around alone. When Maggie had eaten her cake, Miss Brewster put on her hat and coat, and they walked down the road in silence. When Maggie discovered that her aunt evidently intended to go all the way home with her, she began for the first time to wonder what her father and mother would think of it all. At first, when Miss Brewster and the frightened Maggie walked into the tiny kitchen, Mr. and Mrs. Taylor were too much taken by surprise to think or say anything. Before either of them found tongue, Miss Brewster spoke. I never thought to cross your threshold, James, but I don't mind acknowledging that I've been a fool and I want you to forgive me. I've wanted it for years, but I'd never have come to tell you so. If it hadn't been for that might of a child of yours, she has got genuine spunk in her. I'm pleased with her, and I want to cultivate her acquaintance. Maggie had listened to this speech with bewildered eyes, seeing which her mother told her to go to bed. Maggie obeyed it once, so she did not hear any more of the conversation, which must have been a long one, for it was quite late when Miss Brewster took her leave. But Maggie did know that very soon after she and her father and mother all went to live in the big house without Jesse, where she had nice clothes and good food and all the love her heart craved. Besides, she had Fluff, who lived to a green old age, and waxed fat and valiant, and though Maggie spoiled him atrociously, she was nothing to Aunt Jesse, who was guilty of such unheard of indulgences as would have ruined any ordinary cat. But then both Maggie and Aunt Jesse knew that Fluff was not an ordinary cat. End of Section 50, Recording by Julie Burks. Section 51 of Uncollected Short Stories of L. M. Montgomery. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by B. L. Newman. Uncollected Short Stories of L. M. Montgomery by Lucy Maud Montgomery. Section 51. The Pineapple Apron. L. M. Montgomery. Published in the Western Christian Advocate, August 26, 1908. All the girls in our class that winter were crazy over lace patterns. The fifth class girls were making patchwork quilts, and the third class were collecting postage stamps. But we went in for crocheting lace and our greatest ambition was to get a pattern nobody else had. We felt so triumphant when we succeeded, and so vexed and mortified when some other girl came out with it too. Only we never showed that we were vexed. We just said we were tired of that pattern. It was getting so common, and we never did any more of it. We took our lace to school and worked at recesses. Josie Pate was actually caught crocheting under her desk and school hours once. But she never did it again. For the teacher made her copy out the pattern and give it to every other girl in the class. Peggy Reed was my chum, and we always lent our patterns to each other at first. But one day Peggy came to school with an elegant new spotted meslin apron on, trimmed with the sweetest edging in a brand new design. She said her aunt out west had sent it to her, and all the girls were in raptures over it. I thought it real mean and Peggy never to have shown it to me, and she must have had it quite a while to have crocheted such a long piece of lace, for the apron was frilled and the lace sewn on the frill. And Peggy hasn't much spare time, for there are six children in her family younger than she is, and she is only twelve. I didn't say anything, however, for I thought that perhaps Peggy would offer to show me the pattern when we walked home from school that night. But she never so much as mentioned it. And so, of course, I didn't either. And Peggy told Julia Simmons the next day that I was real jealous of her new apron because I'd never said a word about it. Julia told me, of course, Julia is the worst tell-tale in school, and I felt that Peggy had acted mean right through. I was pretty cool and dignified to her after that, I can tell you. But I didn't stop speaking to her, of course, for I wouldn't have shown for anything that I cared whether she gave me the pattern or not. Meanwhile, all the other girls seemed to be constantly discovering new patterns, but I hadn't a bit of luck that way. Then a really brilliant idea struck me, all at once, one day in geography class, when I was trying to bound Brazil. It was. Why not invent a pattern of your very own? I was so excited I could hardly wait until school was out and then I raced home and shut myself up in the garret. I can't tell you what a time I had inventing that pattern. It took me three weeks. I got right down foot of my class and lost marks in everything because I was thinking of it all the time. Mother said it wasn't safe to send me on an errand because I was sure to make a model of it. And some nights I actually couldn't sleep. But in the end, I succeeded. It was a pineapple design, but not a bit like any of the other pineapple patterns the girls had. And it was really sweetly pretty. None of the other girls had ever thought of such a thing. I decided I wouldn't tell them at first that I had invented it. It would be fun to see them trying to get it and hunting old magazines through and riding away to all their friends for it and I knowing all the time that there was no other copy of it in the world. I crocheted enough of it to trim an apron and then one day I wore the apron to school. The girls were wild over the lace and said it was the prettiest pineapple pattern they had ever seen. But Peggy never so much as referred to it. Of course nobody could get the pattern and soon it got around that there was some mystery about it. Peggy told Julia that someone would soon get hold of it and when Julia told me I said it wouldn't be Peggy Reed anyhow. Julia told Peggy that and Peggy said she could find out that pattern in a fortnight if it was worth finding out, but it wasn't. I walked home from school with Maggie Brown that night. The next day was washing day and mother washed my pineapple apron and hung it out on the line. It was a lovely moonlit night when we went to bed clear as day, but before morning it was quite a snowstorm. When I went out to bring the clothes in after breakfast my pineapple apron was gone. Mother said it must have blown away and I looked everywhere but couldn't find it. Peggy wasn't in school all the next week. She was sick with a cold, but I didn't know that. Or of course I would have gone over to see her. I just thought she had to stay home to help her mother. She often had to. But one morning when I went to school there was Peggy in the midst of a group of girls all laughing and talking. As soon as I went in Josie Pay called out. You said nobody would ever get your pineapple pattern Alice, but Peggy has. Then they all stood back and there was Peggy, looking so triumphant and wearing an apron, trimmed with my pineapple pattern lace. Oh I can tell you I just flared up. It was really too much. Peggy, Reed, you took my apron off the line and that is how you got the pattern I cried. You couldn't have got it any other way because I invented that pattern myself. Of course I didn't mean that Peggy stole the apron. I just meant she borrowed it without asking to get the pattern and a pretty mean thing I thought it. Peggy turned red and then she turned white. I guess I'm not a thief Alice Morley. She snapped out. I don't know where your old apron is and I don't care. You're just mad because I've got the pattern when you said I couldn't and I don't believe you made it out of your own head. Miss Westcott came in then and we couldn't say anything more. But from that out I was done with Peggy. It was dreadfully lonesome and none of the other girls was really half so nice as Peggy, but I thought she'd behave dreadfully and I vowed I'd never forgive her. I always walked home with Maggie Brown and I never spoke to you or looked at Peggy. Things went on like this until the middle of the winter. The pineapple lace fuss all seemed far away by that time and I began to wish I hadn't got so mad over it. After all, perhaps Peggy only meant it as a joke on me for boasting that nobody could ever get that pattern. And although she certainly had been horrid, I had been a little horrid too. But the mischief was done and how it could be undone I couldn't see. For I was bound I wouldn't be the first to try to make up and Peggy just went by me with her head in the air. The very sight of a crochet hook made me sick. One day mother got a letter from Miss Newell and everybody in our house went straight way into a red-hot state of excitement. Miss Newell's an old school friend of mother's and she is a famous writer. Her books are splendid and Peggy and I just reveled in them. Peggy always thought it wonderful that I should have a mother who was Miss Newell's friend and I had always promised that if Miss Newell ever came to visit mother I'd have Peggy over to meet her. And now Miss Newell was really coming. She wrote that she would be passing through Bingham Tuesday and would drive out to Westford between trains to have tea with mother for the sake of all langzine. This was Monday already so Miss Newell would be here the next day. I was too excited to eat or study or do a single thing except plead with mother to let me put my front hair up in curlers that night. Mother doesn't approve of it as a frequent occurrence but I felt that I simply could not face Miss Newell with straight hair for all of her heroines have curly hair. Then I thought of Peggy and my old promise to her. I was an irregular fix. Of course Peggy had acted meanly but a promise is a promise and mother had brought us up to keep one whenever we made it. Besides you couldn't read one of Miss Newell's books without discovering what opinion she would have of a girl who would break a promise. I didn't know what to do but I felt I must decide that night. It would never do to leave it till the next morning for that wouldn't give Peggy a chance to curl her hair. Finally just at dusk I marched over to Peggy's through the furgrove. Peggy saw me coming and she met me at the door but she didn't speak. Miss Newell is coming to our place tomorrow afternoon I said just as stiffly and politely as anything you ever heard and I have come to ask you over because I promised long ago that I would. Peggy caught me by the arm and pulled me right into the hall. Oh Alice do forgive me she said. It's lovely of you to ask me over to meet Miss Newell and honestly Alice I didn't take your apron but I never supposed you stole it I broke in. I just thought you'd borrowed it to tease me but since you say you didn't of course it's all right and but it isn't all right interrupted Peggy looking miserable. I have something to confess I was bound to show you I could get that pattern and that night your apron was out I slipped over into your yard and examined the lace until I was sure I could do it but I never took the apron off the line and it was there when I left. It it wasn't ladylike said Peggy beginning to cry and please don't tell Miss Newell I did it but you provoked me so telling Julia I couldn't get it and I thought you were real mean not to lend me the pattern but you didn't lend me the pattern of that lace your aunt sent you I said reproachfully Peggy opened her eyes wide but she didn't send me the pattern she said she sent me the lace and apron and all and I couldn't make out how the pattern went either I thought you knew that all the other girls did I thought you were jealous of my present because you never said a word about it Peggy and I just sat down with our arms around each other and explained everything out oh it was so jolly to be friends with Peggy once more she came over and stayed all night with me and we both put our hair up in curlers Miss Newell came the next day and we had a real nice time but I think both Peggy and I were just the least little bit disappointed although we would never admit it even to each other Miss Newell was very nice but she didn't talk a bit cleverly and she was short and stout and quite gray of course that wasn't to be wondered at really when you come to think that she was as old as mother but I had never thought of Miss Newell being gray and it was a great shock to me about the pineapple apron oh yes a big thaw came in March and I found it under the lilac bush it wasn't hurt a bit but I couldn't bear the sight of it so I put it in the missionary box I think Peggy put hers in too for I never saw her wear it again and the missionary's wife wrote to mother saying that she gave the two pineapple aprons as prizes in the native school so I supposedly did some good in the world after all end of section 51 recording by B. L. Newman section 52 of uncollected short stories of L. M. Montgomery this is LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Michael Knowles Fort Worth Texas uncollected short stories of L. M. Montgomery by Lucy Maud Montgomery the old south orchard it is now more than 70 years since it had its beginning when grandfather brought his bride home before the wedding he had fenced off the big south meadow that sloped to the sun it was the finest most fertile field on the farm and the neighbors told young Abraham king that he would raise many a crop of wheat in that meadow Abraham king smiled and being a man of few words said nothing but in his mind he had a vision of the years to be and in that vision he saw not rippling acres of harvest gold but great leafy avenues of wide spreading trees laden with fruit to gladden the eyes of children and grandchildren yet unborn it was a vision to develop slowly into fulfillment grandfather king was in no hurry he did not set his whole orchard out at once for he wished it to grow with his life and history to be bound up with all the good and joy that came of the household he had founded so on the morning after he had brought his young wife home they went together to the south meadow and planted their bridal trees those two trees were yet living when we of the third generation were born and every spring bedecked themselves and blossoms as delicately tinted as elizabeth king's face when she walked through the old south meadow in the morn of her life and love that was the beginning of the famous king orchard when a son was born to abraham and elizabeth a tree was planted in the orchard for him they had 10 children and all and each child had its birth tree every family festival was commemorated in like fashion and every beloved visitor who spent a night under their roof was expected to plant a tree in the orchard so it came to pass that every tree in it was a fair green monument to some love or delight of the past years we the grandchildren of abraham and elizabeth were born into this heritage the orchard was old when we came to know it and for us was one of the things that must have existed forever like the sky and the river and the stars we could not think of a world without the old south orchard each grandchild and there were many of us both on the homestead where father lived and scattered abroad in far lands had its tree there set out by grandfather when the news of its birth was announced to him in our day there was a high stone wall around it instead of grandfather's split rail fence our uncles and fathers had built the wall in their boyhood so it was old enough to be beautiful with moss and green things growing out of its crevices violets purpling its base in early spring days and goldenrod and asters making a september glory in its corners grandmother as long as she was able liked to go through the orchard with us down to the father gate where she never omitted to kiss us all goodbye even if we were to be gone for no more than an hour she would wait at the gate her sweet old face all aglow until we were out of sight then she would visit uncle steven's avenue before going back to the house uncle steven's avenue as we always called it was a double row of apple trees running down the western side of the orchard a great green bowery arcade it was to walk through it in a blossom time was something not to be forgotten it realized for us our most extravagant dreams of fairyland wherein we wandered under the gorgeous arches of king's palaces over pavements of pearl and emerald heaven we thought must surely be an endless secession of uncle steven's avenues and blossoms that never faded uncle steven was that first born whose birth tree stood nearest to the two gnarled old patriarchs in the center of the orchard father who was one of the youngest members of the family had but one remembrance of him as a handsome youth of 18 home from a long sea voyage with all the glamour of faraway lands and southern seas about him in uncle steven the blood of a seafaring race claimed its own he had none of grandfathers abiding love of woods and meadows and the kindly ways of warm red earth to see he must go despite the fears and pleadings of the reluctant mother and it was from the sea he came to set out his avenue in the south orchard with trees brought from his voyage then he sailed away again and the ship was never heard of more the gray first came in the grandmother's brown hair in those months of waiting then for the first time in its life the old orchard heard the sound of weeping and was consecrated by a sorrow to us children uncle steven was only a name but a name to conjure with we never weary of speculating on his fate and harrowing our small souls with fearful imaginations concerning his last moments he played an important part in many of our games and make beliefs he was always the good fairy who appeared mysteriously in the nick of time and rescued us from all difficulties he was all the more delightful in that he never grew old like our other uncles for us he was always the curly haired youngster with the laughing blue eyes of the frame daguerreotype hanging up in grandmother's room if he had ever come back in reality we would have expected him to look just like that we all i think cherished a secret belief that he was yet living probably on a desert island and would someday return home glittering with the golden jewels of the pirate hoard discovered on said island to this day we middle-aged men and women who were the children of that old south orchard do not say when my ship comes in but when uncle steven comes home there was another spot in the orchard which had a great attraction for us albeit mingled with something of awe and fear this was aunt unna's seat a bench of mossy stone slabs arched over a couple of gnarled pear trees and grown thickly about with grasses and violets we never cared to play there it would have seemed like desecration but in our quiet moods we sought the old stone bench to dream aunt unna mingled in those dreams but not after the fashion of uncle steven for there was no doubt concerning her fate she had died 30 years before on her 20th birthday we children heard much of aunt unna for she was one of those people who are not soon forgotten whose personality seems to haunt the seams of their lives long after they have gone thence she had been very beautiful with a strange moonlight beauty of white skin and night black eyes and hair foreign to the fair rosy king style of loveliness a dreamy spiritual girl one of those souls who have no real abiding place in this world and only tarry for a brief while she had been gifted with a power of expression a sort of journal she had written was one of grandmother's treasures she sometimes read portions of it to us and so we seem to make a very real acquaintance with aunt unna the book contained verses that appeared quite wonderful to us indeed i think even yet that they were wonderful and bits descriptive of the orchard blend with a girl's dreams and longings her phrases lingered in our memories and the whole orchard seemed full of her besides there was a bit of her romance connected with it aunt unna had a lover this man was still living he was little more than 50 but we thought him very old because of his snow white hair he had never married and lived some distance away every june on aunt unna's birthday he made a pilgrimage to the old orchard to see her tree all a blow with never-failing blossoms and sit on her bench at such times we children were not allowed to go into the orchard but we sometimes peeped over the wall and saw him sitting there a melancholy lonely figure it gave us i think a deep and lasting sense of the beauty and strength of love which could thus outlive time and death we were too young then to understand its full beauty the romance of it appealed more strongly to us we girls had our favorite dream of dying young and having our lovers come visit our trees 30 years after but your chard had happier memories there had been a wedding in it for one thing long before we were born it was that of aunt iris who had been a celebrated beauty she was married in the orchard under the apple blossoms of june we never tired of hearing grandmother tell of it we had heard the story so often that we could picture it almost as plainly as grandmother herself the lanes of white fragrant trees the gay dresses of the guests the beautiful bride and her white silk dress and old lace fail it was a favorite game with us to enact it all over and so coveted was the honor of playing the bride's part that it had to be settled by lot aunt iris's pear tree planted by the bride herself after the ceremony was in our time a huge old tree just within the entrance of the gate the most delicious pears that i have ever eaten grew on it there are no such pears nowadays i suppose they had a catalog name but the old south orchard had nomenclature all its own and we knew them as aunt iris's pears there were many plum trees in the orchard as well as cherries great luscious ox hearts and a sweet white kind pears and quinces but of course more of apple trees than of any other kind uncle bob's tree was our favorite because it bore delicious juicy yellow apple with a streak of red on one side there were two big trees the twins trees which were given over to us entirely because nobody except children would eat their big green dead sweet apples and there was a seedling tree which had come up unbidden in a sunny corner the fruit of which we use when our games called for a trial by ordeal the apples of it were the sourest that ever grew hard bitter unpalatable the ordeal consisted and eating one of them in large bites without making a single grimace few of us ever passed it but there was one who never failed our little french cousin lure she could munch those dreadful apples without so much as a change of expression on her little dark elfin face but then lure could do anything she attempted we could never stump her as our juvenile slaying expressed it every season brought you beauties the old orchard it would have been hard to say when we loved it best in spring it was a rare spot the grass was green there when everywhere else was only ser brown sod the trees were in leaf and bud a full week earlier than in other orchards summer brought ripe luxuriance of growth long ago grandmother had sown a little plot with a caraway just inside the gate and it had spread half over the orchard in july when it came into blossom the long arcades were white with its billowy waves that swayed and foamed in the moonshine of summer eaves like seas of silver one day a three-year-old baby wandered into the caraway thicket that met over her head laid down in it and went to sleep when she was missed great was the consternation in the house of king everybody turned out to search distracted by direful possibilities of well and river searches they might it could not find her it was sunset with a mother in hysterics before an answering gurgle came from the caraway in response to frantic calls father plunged over the stone wall and into the caraway where he came upon a rosy sleeping warm baby curled up in a nest of her own fashioning and very loath to leave it autumn was i think the time we loved best for then came the apple picking what fun it was the boys would climb the trees and shake the apples down until weak girls cried for mercy the days were crisp and mellow with warm sunshine and a tang of frost in the air mingled with the woodsy odours of the withering leaves the hens and turkeys prowled about picking at windfalls and our pet kittens made mad rushes at each other among the leaves then came winter when the orchard was heaped with grims it was a wonderful place on moonlit nights when the snowy arcades shone like magic avenues of ivory and pearl and the bare trees cast fairy-like traceries over them uncle steven's avenue was a fine place for coasting and when a thought came followed by a frost we held high carnival there any history of the old south orchard would be incomplete if it failed to mention the king bubble this was a spring of peculiarly sweet pure water which gurgled up in the southwest corner at the foot of a gentle slope grandfather had rimmed it round with a circle of hewn stones and in this basin water brimmed up like a great amber bubble until it found its way through ferns and mosses to the brook below in our games the king bubble played the part of every famous fount and song and story of which we had ever read especially the well of urda and pence de lyons fountain of youth on summer days tired and warm we'd fling ourselves down on its fern fringe brink and drink deep droughts from an old blue china cup which always sat on a little stone shelf below the brim and never chanced to be broken despite the dozens of careless little hands that cease us today men and women all over the world often think of that spring and long for a cup of its matchless water near the spring was a huge granite boulder as high as a man's head straight and smooth in front but hollowed out into natural steps behind it also played an important part in all of our games being a fortified castle indian ambush throne pulpit or concert platform as occasion required a certain gray haired minister famous in two continents for eloquence and scholarly attainments preached his first sermon at the age of 10 from that old gray boulder and a woman whose voice has delighted thousands saying her earliest madrigals there if you're a king you sing as country side proverb in those days and certainly it was true of all the descendants of grandfather and grandmother we all sang more or less although none could equal lore and among the dearest memories of the old south orchard are those of the long mellow twilight of summer sundays when old and young assembled in the orchard and sang hymns grandfather's beating time how clearly the whole scene comes together on the wall of memories picture gallery grandfather and grandmother father and mother sitting on aunt unna's bench while we children with all uncle george's brood from the next farm sat on the grass around them two voices sound out for me above all the others lores glorious and silvery grandmothers sweet quavering and tremulous dear old grandmother king how much she enjoyed those summer evenings of song grandfather and grandmother used to walk much in the orchard on fine evenings hand in hand lovers still lingering in uncle steven's arcade or at aunt unna's seat their devotion to each other was beautiful to see we children never thought it a sad or unlovely thing to grow old with so fair an example before us one summer grandmother grew very frail and could not walk in the orchard yet grandfather was the first to go they found him sitting in an armchair one afternoon a smile on his fine old face and the sunshine marking the glory of his white hair grandmother called him by name but for the first time he failed to answer her they carried grandfather king through the old orchard on his last journey it had been his wish children and grandchildren walked behind him under boughs laden with a mellow fruit of trees his hands had planted the next june grandmother king was carried to him over the same way the bridge going once more to her bridegroom under the glory of their bridal trees i visited the orchard not long ago on a mellow afternoon it did not seem much changed most of the old trees were standing grandfathers and grandmothers were gone but their places were filled with two flourishing young trees planted when the homestead boy had brought his bride home aunt unna's seat was there and uncle steven's avenue the king bubble was as clear and sparkling as of your truly it was the fountain of youth for it never grew old and at the big granite boulder children were playing Ivanhoe and besieging it valiantly with arrows and pop guns my best wish for them was that in the years to come the old orchard might hold for them as many sweet and enduring memories as it held for me end of section 52 recording by michael nulls fort worth texas section 53 of uncollected short stories of lm montgomery this is a lever vox recording all lever vox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit lever vox.org recording by marsha epic harris uncollected short stories of lm montgomery by lucy mod montgomery section 53 a double surprise i was visiting in trinton when aunt an came to our place i felt real disappointed when i got home and mother told me she had been up i had always wanted to see aunt an for father had loved her so furiously that i thought she must be worth seeing father was always a good judge of women sonny slope where she lived was only about 60 miles from talbot where we lived and sure enough we had barely got settled when aunt an arrived along but as afore said i was away and i didn't get back until the day after she had gone home she wants you to go out to sonny slope someday next week and she's a perfect dear said mother you must go she has such lovely brown eyes mother didn't exactly mean that i must go because aunt an had lovely brown eyes that is just mother's way of talking her ideas as father used to say never come in proper sequence but she's none the worse mother for that i picked out pretty good parents did she suggest any particular day i asked no she said any day would suit her and if you'd send her word what train you'd be on she'd meet you she lives quite near the station and i wish she could see what a mild winning expression she has it reminded me so much of your poor father she says she has a nice old place out there and you must look on it as a second home although it's a little lonely and out of the way however she has the jolliest laugh and a sweet pink and white face i reflected and decided that i wouldn't send word when i was coming because i didn't exactly know myself the kingsleys had promised to come down someday the next week and i couldn't go over until their visit was over if aunt and live so near the station i could easily walk to her house besides i have or had a mania for surprising people the kingsleys never came till thursday and friday morning i announced that i was going up to aunt and that day to stay over sunday mother looks dubious because she never likes to see anyone start on a journey on friday she says it's unlucky of course i'm not superstitious but i don't think i will go anywhere on friday again it's just as well to be on the safe side when there are plenty of other days in the week i got myself an early lunch to catch the 12 o'clock train and i put on my prettiest frilliest organ de dress and a floppy hat with pink poppies on it because i knew if aunt and were anything like father she'd love pretty clothes thus a cootard i kissed mother goodbye told her to be good and got on my train it's a little branch line that runs out to sunny slope and the train was a mixed freight it fairly crawled and it stopped forever so long at little dingy stations and there wasn't another soul in the car except a tall thin woman reading a tract it was so monotonous i fell asleep and i woke up hours afterwards as it seemed to me just as a breakman banged a door and called something that sounded as much like sunny slope as it did like anything else in the language did he oh did he say sunny slope i demanded wildly of the tall thin woman who is still pouring over her tracks she looked up with a bored expression and said yes i grasped my parasol and skipped thankfully off that train frankly i didn't like the appearance of sunny slope at all it didn't look in the least aunt annie ish neither did i admire the station master he was so round and tubby and bald but he was really a very affable person and beamed on me when i asked him if he could direct me to miss tomson's place reckon i can miss but it's a right smart distance from here it's an hour's walk round by the road but look here are you good at shortcuts at what i said stupidly cut shortcuts i can put you up to one that'll take you out to old miss tomson's place in half an hour do you see the red house down the road well when you get there look over the fields to the southwest and you'll see the windmill on the top of abel miller's barn just hike for that across lots and you'll come out half a mile from the tomson place straight down the road you'll know it when you get there there's a pond by the house in a mortal long lane and there ain't another place nearer than abel miller's but are you sure you're good at shortcuts you can never tell whether you're good at shortcuts or not until you've tried and i never had but i meant to you right away i thanked the station agent and i started down the dusty road it was just two o'clock which convinced me that the train had made better time when i was asleep than it had before for i had not expected to get to sunny slope before half past three i shall never forget how hungry i was and the day was so hot and that road so dusty when i came to the red house i looked for the windmill and found it and with all the rashness of inexperience i straight away hiked across lots to it when i am an old woman and take to giving advice i shall say to all in sundry beware of cross cuts i'm not quite sure what hike means and i forgot to ask the station master to define it exactly but if to wade through hay fields to your knees squirm under barbed wire fences because you don't dare to try to climb over them in a frilly organdy run around four fields in deadly dread of a cow and get lost in a spruce wood and come out on the wrong side with no guiding windmill in sight be to hike then i hiked i walked across the edge of that wood looking for the windmill and on the other side i came to a queer little low-eaved barn that looked as if it had never been built but had just grown up in the ferny woodsy corner like a toadstool over it away across the fields i saw my blessed windmill and i was just ready to resume hiking when i heard the most dismal melancholy wail in the barn for a second it frightened me then it came again and i knew it must be a cat moreover there is something in the sound that made me think the animal was suffering i have a weakness for cats to go and leave one in possible trouble was something i could not do no matter how much hiking was before me so i proceeded to investigate the barn had a door secured on the outside with a rusty hasp and i got in without any trouble on one side of the barn was a little loft full of hay and on the other was a little loft without any hay and from this the whales were proceeding i called pussy pussy in my most winning tones but though the yells grew louder no pussy appeared i gathered my frills around me and gingerly climbed up a very dusty very wobbly ladder in one corner and then i saw the cat a great big fellow right in the middle of the loft i was shocked at his appearance he seemed to be starving and was just skin and bone but he had a beautiful striped coat and big bright famished eyes and he looked like a cat that had seen better days as soon as he saw me he staggered to meet me then fell down and mewed faintly i actually had tears in my eyes as i picked up that cat and crawled down the ladder i was thankful that i had hiked across lots and got lost for otherwise he would have starved to death it's not easy to climb fences in a frilly organi with a big cat in your arms but i did it and at last i reached the main road by able millers i saw the millers peering at me from their windows in amazement i daresay i looked funny enough tramping a dusty road and floppy hat and frills with my arms full of cat but i didn't care how i looked as for the cat he was so quiet and limp that i was afraid he would die before i could get him anything to eat i was a weary and thankful girl when i saw the mortal long lane and a big old-fashioned house peering through the willows across a little creek the lane led up to the back porch door and i knocked there but no aunt ann appeared and i noted with dismay that the kitchen blinds were down finally i trailed around through a wilderness of sweet clover and caraway to the front door and there was a young man sitting on the doorstep he looked resigned and determined as if he had been sitting there for a good while and meant to sit as long as was necessary he stood up when i appeared however and looked surprised it was born in upon me that he was a very good-looking young man and i would just as soon not have been carrying that cat can you tell me if miss thompson is home i said weirdly i'm afraid she isn't he answered i've been waiting here a good while hoping she would return it is very important that i should see her before i go back to town she's surely we'll be back soon i said anxiously because i know she is expecting me someday this week she's my aunt and i know it will be all right for me to go in and make myself at home besides i must get something for this cat to eat don't you see he is starving the young man agreed that the case was urgent enough to justify house breaking but every door and window was fastened up hard and tight we went around and tried them all while i explained how i had found the cat finally we discovered a dairy under the willows down by the pond it was padlocked but the young man picked the lock with his pen knife very knacky he was about it too and we got in there was nothing in it after all but a little pitcher of skim milk and i found a saucer and gave the cat some he nearly choked in his eagerness to swallow it you mustn't give him too much warned the young man a little at a time until he gets accustomed to it i was glad the young man was there because i should probably have let the cat drink the whole pitcher full and kill himself when he had had as much as we thought good for him we shut him up in the woodhouse we'll wait a little while i said and then if auntie doesn't come home we'll try to get in some way i know she wouldn't mind she's the dearest soul mother says i can't understand her being away perhaps somebody is sick we went and sat down on a bench under the willows it was cool and dreamy and shadowy there and i would have felt quite peaceful if i hadn't been so hungry i hadn't eaten much lunch and think of all i have been through since then as for that poor young man it turned out he had had nothing to eat since breakfast i came out on the morning train and i'm bound to stay here till i see miss tomson he said i've come out to get her to give our firm an option on some property she has in town it's very important and there's another fellow after it he's coming tomorrow we found that out but he doesn't know we want it too the firm depends on me to bring this to a successful conclusion and it will mean something to me if i can manage it i understand miss tomson is a pretty sharp person in a business sticker may i ask you to put in a good word for me remembering how he had picked that padlock for me i agreed at once as a general thing picking locks isn't a recommendation but there are exceptions to every rule besides i always like to oblige people with splendid steel blue eyes and cleft chins such as he had we were real friendly and comfortable he told me his name was donald murray and i told him mine was jenny tomson and it turned out he knew some people who knew the kingsley's and that made it seem almost as if we were really acquainted we sat there and talked for nearly an hour varied by frequent trips to the woodhouse to feed the cat who grew livelier at every visit and seemed in a fair way to recover permanently but the less hungry the cat got the more hungry i got and by four i was simply desperate i'm going to get in and get something to eat i said aunt and would have a fit if she knew i was starving in her yard and there's no more milk than the cat will need we must break in i'll tell you what we can do break one of the little panes in the porch window and get at the catch then i can get in and open the door it was simple enough and we did it cheerfully in two minutes we were inside and i had the sitting room blind up and my hat off it was a pretty nice place only fearfully prim and neat now i'm going to go get tea i said gaily we'll make ourselves right at home that will please aunt ann won't she be surprised when she comes home mr murray agreed that she probably would then he kindled a fire in the kitchen stove he was a very necky young man and i privately thought that he would be a very useful person to have in the family meanwhile i set the table and explored aunt ann's pantry thoroughly it was well stocked and i found cake and cold ham and preserves galore but not a solitary crumb of bread could i discover hunt as i would never mind i said cheerfully i know what i'll do i'll mix up a pan of baking powder biscuits i'll have them ready to eat in half an hour if you just keep a good fire on i pinned up my frilly sleeves put on a gingham apron of aunt ann's i found behind a door and mixed up my biscuits mr murray stood in the doorway and watched me i didn't mind but i mightn't have liked it if i had skinny arms at first i thought i was going to be stumped for baking powder i couldn't find any for a long while but finally i discovered some in a can way up in the corner of a back shelf my biscuits were a success and came out as light and feathery as foam then we sat down and aunt ann's willow shade dining room and began our tea we were so hungry and everything was so good we were having a lovely comfy jolly little meal when the world came to an end without any warning i suppose we were laughing too much to hear her steps a woman appeared in the doorway of the dining room a tall gaunt female with hard cold blue eyes and a thin sunburned face she wore a hideous dress of green print with yellow flowers in it and a battered old sun hat tied down over her iron gray hair as for surprise oh she was surprised beyond doubt anyone could see that so was i what does this mean she said who are you and what are you doing in my house her house i just cast i i thought this was my aunt ann's house i said miserably i can't describe what i felt like and i'm not going to try but amid all my anguish the most prominent thought in my mind was what would mr murray think would he suppose i was a fraud and a faker as that dreadful woman plainly supposed my name is miss sarah jane thompson she said stonely and this is my house and i'd like to know how you got into it when i locked it up can you explain that to me sir she turned to mr murray and hurled this question to him after having stared me completely out of countenance i uh i my name is murray miss thompson he stammered of the firm of alsop and hicks and trinton i came out to see you on business about an option on the land you have in middleboro and and he floundered hopelessly he couldn't tell how he got into the house without incriminating me and he wouldn't do that i came to his rescue with all the dignity i could assume there is some mistake here i should think there was interjected miss thompson with a scornful sniff i came up from talbot to visit my aunt miss ann thompson and the station agent directed me here i thought it was her house and so i came in and made myself at home evidently with another sniff and a glance at the table inviting mr murray to do likewise i'm very sorry that i've mistaken the house and if you will be kind enough to tell me where miss ann thompson lives i shall not trespass any longer on your hospitality a very likely story said miss thompson contemptuously there is no other woman of the name thompson living near here i believe you are two burglars and i ought to have you arrested anyhow there ain't any money in the house so you can't have found any just tramp both of you this minute no i don't want to hear another word as mr murray attempted to speak i haven't any business i'm anxious to transact with you i picked up my poppy hat and trailed out followed by mr murray i felt like an unprincipled adventurous and wondered if he thought me one too miss thompson followed us to the door and with an outraged expression of countenance watched us go out of the yard i believe she only let us go because she dared not leave us alone while she went to get someone to arrest us well my chance for securing an option on that land is gone forever said mr murray as we walked up the mortal long lane percival will get it tomorrow i'm so sorry i said contritely it's all my fault indeed it isn't don't for a moment yes it is if i hadn't asked you in this wouldn't have happened but i did think it was aunt ann's house truly i did you are not to blame in the least and after all it's a good joke it will be something for me to laugh over all my life now the only thing to do is for us to find your aunt's place and then i'll go back to trenton on the night express it passes through at 12 o'clock that dreadful woman said she was the only thompson here but she can't be i said weirdly i know aunt ann lives somewhere in sunny slope sunny slope this is hen's low sunny slope is 15 miles farther on you got off at the wrong station it was the last straw i just felt like sitting down among the golden rod of miss sarah jane thompson's mortal long lane and crying two tears really did brim up in my eyes oh don't implored mr murray i'll tell you what we'll do there's no uptrend till the morning but i'll get a team at the station and drive you to sunny slope i couldn't think of troubling you i said feebly it's a pleasure and from any point of view i'd rather be doing that than waiting around hen's low for the night express i wonder you'd trust me sufficiently to go anywhere with me i said trying to smile through my tears haven't i got you into enough trouble already how do you know i've really got an aunt ann i have doubted myself in the face of miss sarah jane's incredulity i would trust you to any extent said mr murray gravely if you assured me you had a dozen aunt ann's all surnamed thompson i should believe you the world didn't look quite so black after all i wiped my eyes straightened my hat and prepared to step lively out of the gate then i remembered in my dismay i clutched mr murray's arm oh i forgot the cat i cried wildly i must go back and tell her about him indeed i must don't venture into that woman's clutches again said mr murray i must i said firmly i can't leave that poor animal to her tender mercies if she won't promise to look after him until she finds his owner i shall have to take him with me you wait here and i'll go back indeed no if you are going to risk a return to the dragon's den i'm going with you declared mr murray chivalrously back we went miss thompson had been watching us all this time from her door and now she came through the yard to meet us and confronted us just by the wood shed what's bringing you back here she demanded i have plucked up some spirit by this time and i looked her straight in the eyes giving her glare for glare i came back to tell you that there is a cat in this shed i found him starving in a barn back in the woods and brought him down here and gave him some milk i found in your dairy he must belong to someone in the settlement will you keep him until you find his owner if not i'll take him with me a cat my lost peter where is he shriek miss thompson she flung opened the wood shed door and rushed in the cat was dozing on the sunny window ledge but the minute he saw miss thompson he sat up and purred that woman actually fell on her knees before him hugged him against her cheek and began to cry oh peter she sobbed i've been hunting everywhere for you and i thought you were stolen or killed and i was just wild you precious creature her cold blue eyes were quite soft with tears as she turned around to me to think it was you that brought peter back and to think how i've treated you i shall never get over being ashamed of it but i'll do what i can to make up you must come in and finish your tea and your young man can have his option anything else he wants i believe everything you said and more too but honestly there ain't anybody named ann thompson and henslow i know there isn't now i thought this was sunny slope aunt ann lives there well i'll tell you what my hired boy will drive you over there whenever he comes back from the other farm i take you there myself but i absolutely can't leave peter just now he's been missing a week and i've been just about crazy i was away today hunting for him but not a trace of him could i find and that's why i was so grumpy but i can be real good-natured you come in and see i don't think i would have gone in if it hadn't been for mr murray's sake i wanted him to get that option but miss thompson couldn't be kind enough after that i told her all about finding peter and then we went in and finished our teas the biscuits had got cold but they were real good still the bread was locked up down cellar said miss thompson i have to keep things locked up because i don't believe my hired boy is honest though he is a real good worker what i can't understand is how you got the biscuits so light without any baking powder there isn't any in the house oh yes there is i said i found some in a little yellow can away back on the top shelf miss thompson dropped her biscuit and stared at me then she clapped her hands to her head and began to laugh she threw herself back in her chair and twisted herself about and shrieked with laughter i thought the woman had gone crazy that was tooth powder she gassed it last you whizz those biscuits with my cousin's tooth powder she broke her bottle of it when she was here visiting and put it in an old baking powder can she went away and forgot it and i put it up there miss thompson went into another paroxysm of laughter and even mr murray smiled i was crimson with mortification and felt more like crying than laughing never mind said mr murray in a low tone as miss thompson went to bring the bread there were good biscuits anyhow and i'm coming up to tell but soon to get the recipe for them if you'll let me may i i nodded what was hiking and housebreaking and surprises i was really too plead out to speak end of section 53 recording by marcia epic Harris section 54 of uncollected stories of lm montgomery this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by marcia epic Harris uncollected short stories of lm montgomery by lucy mod montgomery section 54 the goose feud if anyone had ever told mary parker and me that the day would ever come when we would not speak to each other we would have laughed the statement to scorn we have been friends from babyhood we lived next door to each other when we were girls and when we were married our homes were still side by side said that we carried our friendship unbroken into our married life our husbands were almost as intimate as we were our children played together as much as one place as the other we had a little footpath past the barns and across the fields from house to house and it was kept well trodden never a day passed but i went over to mary's house or she came to mine we worked in partnership in nearly everything nothing seemed complete to one unless the other was in it we expected to go on like this till our deaths and then be buried close together in the little graveyard one spring when mary and i were talking over our plans for the summer she said she was going to try her hand at keeping geese we had always kept turkeys before i knew what kind of things geese were around a place and i tried to talk her out of it but she was quite set on it so i gave it up for i didn't suppose it mattered much i even helped her select the eggs for setting and the mother goose when she bought one when every egg hatched out i was as pleased over her good luck as she was herself mary's gozzlings were all right until they began to grow up and then she began to have trouble she put yolks on them but that didn't prevent them from getting into the grain or wandering away to places where foxes could get them i thought to myself that she wished often enough she had kept to the turkeys but she would never give in to that mary is pretty obstinate in a quiet way when she takes a notion we had our wheat in the barnfield next to the line fence that year it was the best field of wheat in metobee we had had poor luck with our wheat for three years back so that we were all the prouder of this william took every man and woman who came to the place out to show them that wheat and expiate on it one day i found all mary's geese in the wheat they had been in a good while and made a fearful havoc i was mad enough but i drove the geese home and calmly told mary she must keep them out of our wheat she looked worried and said she was sorry she would see it didn't happen again she said she had had a real hard time to keep them out of their own grain she couldn't very well keep them shut up all the time a week later i found the geese in again it exasperated me more than i would have thought possible i sent one of the children to take them home this time and i sent a note to mary too i know i'm inclined to be too rash and quip-tempered and i suppose that note was not very conciliatory but if mary thought it was sharp she never let on but it was as friendly as ever one afternoon i was sitting in the kitchen reading when i heard steps on the veranda as if someone were in a big hurry and very decided i had just got up when mary came in without knocking she hadn't a thing on her head and her hair was all blown she had her underlip between her teeth and her eyes were snapping in each hand she carried a half-grown goose quite dead and all bloodstained thinking it over now i suppose she must have looked pretty ridiculous but just then i was too much taken by surprise to notice that she flung the geese down before me as hard as she could and said there i suppose that is your work lizzie mercer her voice was just shaking with rage and she looked ready to tear me in pieces i never knew mary had such a temper i always thought her very quiet and gentle i knew the minute i saw those geese just what had happened as well as if i had been told my oldest boy henry had found those fateful geese and the wheat again and had taken the affair into his own hands without consulting me for he knew i wouldn't have allowed him to lay a hand on one of mary's geese for anything much as i hated to see them destroying the wheat henry was always too hotheaded like his mother and never stopped to think of the consequences of anything he did i was as sorry as anyone could be to see how mary's geese had been stoned and mangled if she had not spoken the way she did so insulting as if i were to blame for it all i should have given henry cause to remember it to his death besides paying for the geese of course but mary wouldn't listen to a word she went on like a crazy person she said things i couldn't endure so i answered her back and we had a dreadful quarrel i'm not blaming mary a bit more than myself it makes me ashamed now to think what i said we stormed at each other over the dead bodies of those geese getting more and more unreasonable at last mary bounced out in an awful temper and left me in one just as bad i kept angry all night but when i grew calm again i repented of my behavior and felt pretty bad about it mary and i had never quarreled before so i didn't know how it was likely to end i knew mary was pretty stubborn but i said to myself that as mary had begun the quarrel it was her place to end it i wouldn't give in first but she made no sign even though she must have found out that i was not really to blame about the geese i felt dreadfully over it for a long while and then i got cranky and didn't care i said if mary could get along without me i could get along without her we never spoke all that summer there were always plenty of friendly folks to tell me the things mary had said about me and keep me stirred up and bitter it did not occur to me that they might have carried my remarks to her with a like result but i could not deny i missed her it made my heart ache to look at the footpath and see it all overgrown with grass as for the wheat i grew to loathe the side of it and a goose made me feel savage at first our families took no part in the trouble our husbands laughed at us and tried to coax us to make it up they were as friendly as ever and so were the children they played together as usual and i was better to mary's children than my own i used to give them cakes every time they came to the house and mary did the same when mine went over there i believe i had a hope that the children might bring about a reconciliation in time when another dreadful thing happened our husbands fell out too they were discussing our quarrel over the line fence one day and got into a dispute about it each one upheld his wife of course they had a dreadful time every old family scandal for the last three generations was cast up they even taunted each other with long forgotten school day faults oh i don't know what they didn't say when william came in and told me what had happened i cried all night about it i didn't know till then how much hope i had cherished things would come out right with mary and me yet but now i felt sure they never would the men were even more unreasonable than we were they wouldn't even let the children go and come the poor little things wouldn't speak to each other because their parents did not i took that to heart more than anything nobody had talked much about mary and me but when it got to be a family affair people took it up somebody called it the goose feud and the name stuck had a double meaning i've no doubt and the poor dead birds were not the only geese meant the minister took in hand to better it and he called one day that didn't do any good he seemed to blame me too much i was too proud a woman to take it then they went to the parkers with no better success the next sunday he preached a sermon about neighbors and church members living in harmony from the text live peaceably with all men he meant well for a better man never lived but it only made things worse i felt that everyone was looking at me to see how i took it and that touched my pride mary looked hard enough to bite a nail into when she went out of church as for william and francis parker they were so provoked at the minister that they wouldn't go to church for over two months things went on like that for two years it seemed to me more like 15 sometimes i asked myself if our friendship had been all a dream nothing seemed real but our estrangement i had given up all thought of making up the thing had hardened too long i got over missing mary pretty much just as we get over missing someone dead because it has to be got over there is no footpath now and francis parker had put up a high snow fence back of their house that shut it from us all together i thought many a hard thing about mary but i was honest enough to own up that it was as much my fault as hers it was two years in july since our quarrel and the fall after that an epidemic of scarlet fever broke out in meadowby it was of the most virulent type my children took it first but they all recovered but other people didn't escape so well it was a sad time there is hardly a house in meadowby without someone dying or dead in it it was more fatal among the children of course it made my heart ache to see all the new little graves in the churchyard someone told me that mary was in a terrible fright lest her children should take it she had seven the youngest was four years old they had all grown too fast and were delicate people said mary had got it into her head that not one of them would live if they took it then the next piece of news was that mary had it herself and she was pretty low the other women went to see her i felt it was dreadful of me not to go but my pride was too stubborn to bend then fred and the twins and lizzie called after me all took it at once and mary had to get up and wait on them before she was fit she had no help and there was none to be had in the village the neighbors went in when they could spare the time but most had their hands full at home nobody knows what i suffered in those two weeks all my old love for mary came back when i heard of her trouble and i wanted to go right to her aid but i could not bring myself to do it sometimes i spoke about going william never said a word either to discourage or encourage i knew that he was ashamed of his fracas with francis parker long ago and would have given almost anything to have it wiped out but he was even prouder than i was i knew he would never put out the hand of reconciliation but he would not put hindrances in my way if i felt inclined to i didn't go however though i kept thinking of it one morning mrs cori called in on her way from mary's where she'd been all night she said mary's baby little dora was down with the fever and very bad i didn't say much but when jane cori had gone i went upstairs to my room and sat down on a trunk by the window it was higher than the snow fence and i could see right over to mary's the house looked so forlorn and desolate the doctor's horse was tied at the gate it was the second week in november and everything was gray and brown i remember just how mary's windows looked through the bare boughs of the garden i knew mary was just wrapped up in dora if anything happened to the baby it would almost kill her the tears came into my eyes as i pictured her bending over dora's sick bed i cried and cried but i couldn't make up my mind to go i was afraid mary would repulse me just after tea sofia reid called in and said it was her opinion that dora wouldn't live through the night that decided me as soon as sofia had gone i put on my bonnet and shawl and went out nobody knows how queer i felt i stood for a spell on the veranda to collect my thoughts i noticed every little thing the air was quite sharp the sky was curdled all over with little rolls of violet gray clouds with strips of faint blue between there had been a scat of snow in the afternoon and the ground was grayish white it had melted about the door and was sloppy the hens and turkeys were pecking around the apple trees were ragged brown but the other trees were bare and the leaves lay around in heaps with snow and their crinkles william was fixing the pump he didn't say anything as i went by though he must have guessed where i was going i went past the barns and struck into the old footpath the little feathery heads of bleached grass stuck up wetly through the snow mary's turkeys were roosting on the snow fence when i got to the door my heart was beating so i could hardly breathe i opened the door and went in a thin dragged out woman with tears glistening on her cheeks was stirring something on the stove at first i could hardly believe it was mary she looked up as i opened the door those few seconds seemed to me as long as the two years that had gone she just said lizzie then she was clinging to me and crying i soothed and petted her until she got calmer and then i made her go and have a sleep for she hadn't closed an eye in over 36 hours by this time henry was at the door i had told him to come and get my orders if i didn't come back i sent word to annie that i wasn't coming home that night and that she must look after things and get her father's supper dora didn't seem any worse in spite of sophia reads for boatings mary woke up at nine o'clock quite refreshed and we sat up with dora and talked everything over mary said i could have no conception of what she had suffered from remorse and loneliness she said she'd started more than once to come over and make up and then the memory of something those kind folks had told her i'd said it would rise up and stop her i believe her feelings were a pretty exact copy of my own about 12 dora suddenly took a bad turn i told frances he must start right off for the doctor mary had borne up well but now she seemed to lose all command of herself she shrieked and cried and caught hold of frances she said he wasn't to think of going and leaving us two women alone with a dying child she went on like that and we couldn't pacify her then all at once william walked in i don't know how he knew the fix we were in i believe he must have been hanging around outside he said he'd go for the doctor frances and he went out to the barn together to harness the horse i never knew what they said but the next day they were working together as if nothing had happened mary and i had a serious time that night and almost seemed that we would lose dora but just as a long red streak showed itself against the eastern sky the doctor said the crisis was passed and dora would live mary and i knelt by the bed with our arms around each other the reddish gold of the sunrise fell over dora's white face like a promise of hope in the tears of joy we shed over her living baby we washed out the last strain of bitterness from our hearts end of section 54 recording by marsha epic harris