CHAPTER XXII
LITTLE DOG MONDAY KNOWS
"It is two years tonight since the dance at the light, when JackElliott brought us news of the war. Do you remember, Miss Oliver?"
Cousin Sophia answered for Miss Oliver. "Oh, indeed, Rilla, I rememberthat evening only too well, and you a-prancing down here to show offyour party clothes. Didn't I warn you that we could not tell what wasbefore us? Little did you think that night what was before you."
"Little did any of us think that," said Susan sharply, "not beinggifted with the power of prophecy. It does not require any greatforesight, Sophia Crawford, to tell a body that she will have sometrouble before her life is over. I could do as much myself."
"We all thought the war would be over in a few months then," said Rillawistfully. "When I look back it seems so ridiculous that we ever couldhave supposed it."
"And now, two years later, it is no nearer the end than it was then,"said Miss Oliver gloomily.
Susan clicked her knitting-needles briskly.
"Now, Miss Oliver, dear, you know that is not a reasonable remark. Youknow we are just two years nearer the end, whenever the end isappointed to be."
"Albert read in a Montreal paper today that a war expert gives it ashis opinion that it will last five years more," was Cousin Sophia'scheerful contribution.
"It can't," cried Rilla; then she added with a sigh, "Two years ago wewould have said 'It can't last two years.' But five more years of this!"
"If Rumania comes in, as I have strong hopes now of her doing, you willsee the end in five months instead of five years," said Susan.
"I've no faith in furriners," sighed Cousin Sophia.
"The French are foreigners," retorted Susan, "and look at Verdun. Andthink of all the Somme victories this blessed summer. The Big Push ison and the Russians are still going well. Why, General Haig says thatthe German officers he has captured admit that they have lost the war."
"You can't believe a word the Germans say," protested Cousin Sophia."There is no sense in believing a thing just because you'd like tobelieve it, Susan Baker. The British have lost millions of men at theSomme and how far have they got? Look facts in the face, Susan Baker,look facts in the face."
"They are wearing the Germans out and so long as that happens it doesnot matter whether it is done a few miles east or a few miles west. Iam not," admitted Susan in tremendous humility, "I am not a militaryexpert, Sophia Crawford, but even I can see that, and so could you ifyou were not determined to take a gloomy view of everything. The Hunshave not got all the cleverness in the world. Have you not heard thestory of Alistair MacCallum's son Roderick, from the Upper Glen? He isa prisoner in Germany and his mother got a letter from him last week.He wrote that he was being very kindly treated and that all theprisoners had plenty of food and so on, till you would have supposedeverything was lovely. But when he signed his name, right in betweenRoderick and MacCallum, he wrote two Gaelic words that meant 'all lies'and the German censor did not understand Gaelic and thought it was allpart of Roddy's name. So he let it pass, never dreaming how he wasdiddled. Well, I am going to leave the war to Haig for the rest of theday and make a frosting for my chocolate cake. And when it is made Ishall put it on the top shelf. The last one I made I left it on thelower shelf and little Kitchener sneaked in and clawed all the icingoff and ate it. We had company for tea that night and when I went toget my cake what a sight did I behold!"
"Has that pore orphan's father never been heerd from yet?" asked CousinSophia.
"Yes, I had a letter from him in July," said Rilla. "He said that whenhe got word of his wife's death and of my taking the baby--Mr. Meredithwrote him, you know--he wrote right away, but as he never got anyanswer he had begun to think his letter must have been lost."
"It took him two years to begin to think it," said Susan scornfully."Some people think very slow. Jim Anderson has not got a scratch, forall he has been two years in the trenches. A fool for luck, as the oldproverb says."
"He wrote very nicely about Jims and said he'd like to see him," saidRilla. "So I wrote and told him all about the wee man, and sent himsnapshots. Jims will be two years old next week and he is a perfectduck."
"You didn't used to be very fond of babies," said Cousin Sophia.
"I'm not a bit fonder of babies in the abstract than ever I was," saidRilla, frankly. "But I do love Jims, and I'm afraid I wasn't reallyhalf as glad as I should have been when Jim Anderson's letter provedthat he was safe and sound."
"You wasn't hoping the man would be killed!" cried Cousin Sophia inhorrified accents.
"No--no--no! I just hoped he would go on forgetting about Jims, Mrs.Crawford."
"And then your pa would have the expense of raising him," said CousinSophia reprovingly. "You young creeturs are terrible thoughtless."
Jims himself ran in at this juncture, so rosy and curly and kissable,that he extorted a qualified compliment even from Cousin Sophia.
"He's a reel healthy-looking child now, though mebbee his colour is amite too high--sorter consumptive looking, as you might say. I neverthought you'd raise him when I saw him the day after you brung himhome. I reely did not think it was in you and I told Albert's wife sowhen I got home. Albert's wife says, says she, 'There's more in RillaBlythe than you'd think for, Aunt Sophia.' Them was her very words.'More in Rilla Blythe than you'd think for.' Albert's wife always had agood opinion of you."
Cousin Sophia sighed, as if to imply that Albert's wife stood alone inthis against the world. But Cousin Sophia really did not mean that. Shewas quite fond of Rilla in her own melancholy way; but young creeturshad to be kept down. If they were not kept down society would bedemoralized.
"Do you remember your walk home from the light two years ago tonight?"whispered Gertrude Oliver to Rilla, teasingly.
"I should think I do," smiled Rilla; and then her smile grew dreamy andabsent; she was remembering something else--that hour with Kenneth onthe sandshore. Where would Ken be tonight? And Jem and Jerry and Walterand all the other boys who had danced and moonlighted on the old FourWinds Point that evening of mirth and laughter--their last joyousunclouded evening. In the filthy trenches of the Somme front, with theroar of the guns and the groans of stricken men for the music of NedBurr's violin, and the flash of star shells for the silver sparkles onthe old blue gulf. Two of them were sleeping under the Flanderspoppies--Alec Burr from the Upper Glen, and Clark Manley of Lowbridge.Others were wounded in the hospitals. But so far nothing had touchedthe manse and the Ingleside boys. They seemed to bear charmed lives.Yet the suspense never grew any easier to bear as the weeks and monthsof war went by.
"It isn't as if it were some sort of fever to which you might concludethey were immune when they hadn't taken it for two years," sighedRilla. "The danger is just as great and just as real as it was thefirst day they went into the trenches. I know this, and it tortures meevery day. And yet I can't help hoping that since they've come this farunhurt they'll come through. Oh, Miss Oliver, what would it be like notto wake up in the morning feeling afraid of the news the day wouldbring? I can't picture such a state of things somehow. And two yearsago this morning I woke wondering what delightful gift the new daywould give me. These are the two years I thought would be filled withfun."
"Would you exchange them--now--for two years filled with fun?"
"No," said Rilla slowly. "I wouldn't. It's strange--isn't it?--Theyhave been two terrible years--and yet I have a queer feeling ofthankfulness for them--as if they had brought me something veryprecious, with all their pain. I wouldn't want to go back and be thegirl I was two years ago, not even if I could. Not that I think I'vemade any wonderful progress--but I'm not quite the selfish, frivolouslittle doll I was then. I suppose I had a soul then, Miss Oliver--but Ididn't know it. I know it now--and that is worth a great deal--worthall the suffering of the past two years. And still"--Rilla gave alittle apologetic laugh, "I don't want to suffer any more--not even forthe sake of more soul growth. At the end of two more years I might lookback
and be thankful for the development they had brought me, too; butI don't want it now."
"We never do," said Miss Oliver. "That is why we are not left to chooseour own means and measure of development, I suppose. No matter how muchwe value what our lessons have brought us we don't want to go on withthe bitter schooling. Well, let us hope for the best, as Susan says;things are really going well now and if Rumania lines up, the end maycome with a suddenness that will surprise us all."
Rumania did come in--and Susan remarked approvingly that its king andqueen were the finest looking royal couple she had seen pictures of. Sothe summer passed away. Early in September word came that the Canadianshad been shifted to the Somme front and anxiety grew tenser and deeper.For the first time Mrs. Blythe's spirit failed her a little, and as thedays of suspense wore on the doctor began to look gravely at her, andveto this or that special effort in Red Cross work.
"Oh, let me work--let me work, Gilbert," she entreated feverishly."While I'm working I don't think so much. If I'm idle I imagineeverything--rest is only torture for me. My two boys are on thefrightful Somme front--and Shirley pores day and night over aviationliterature and says nothing. But I see the purpose growing in his eyes.No, I cannot rest--don't ask it of me, Gilbert."
But the doctor was inexorable.
"I can't let you kill yourself, Anne-girl," he said. "When the boyscome back I want a mother here to welcome them. Why, you're gettingtransparent. It won't do--ask Susan there if it will do."
"Oh, if Susan and you are both banded together against me!" said Annehelplessly.
One day the glorious news came that the Canadians had taken Courceletteand Martenpuich, with many prisoners and guns. Susan ran up the flagand said it was plain to be seen that Haig knew what soldiers to pickfor a hard job. The others dared not feel exultant. Who knew what pricehad been paid?
Rilla woke that morning when the dawn was beginning to break and wentto her window to look out, her thick creamy eyelids heavy with sleep.Just at dawn the world looks as it never looks at any other time. Theair was cold with dew and the orchard and grove and Rainbow Valley werefull of mystery and wonder. Over the eastern hill were golden deeps andsilvery-pink shallows. There was no wind, and Rilla heard distinctly adog howling in a melancholy way down in the direction of the station.Was it Dog Monday? And if it were, why was he howling like that? Rillashivered; the sound had something boding and grievous in it. Sheremembered that Miss Oliver said once, when they were coming home inthe darkness and heard a dog howl, "When a dog cries like that theAngel of Death is passing." Rilla listened with a curdling fear at herheart. It was Dog Monday--she felt sure of it. Whose dirge was hehowling--to whose spirit was he sending that anguished greeting andfarewell?
Rilla went back to bed but she could not sleep. All day she watched andwaited in a dread of which she did not speak to anyone. She went downto see Dog Monday and the station-master said, "That dog of yourshowled from midnight to sunrise something weird. I dunno what got intohim. I got up once and went out and hollered at him but he paid no'tention to me. He was sitting all alone in the moonlight out there atthe end of the platform, and every few minutes the poor lonely littlebeggar'd lift his nose and howl as if his heart was breaking. He neverdid it afore--always slept in his kennel real quiet and canny fromtrain to train. But he sure had something on his mind last night."
Dog Monday was lying in his kennel. He wagged his tail and lickedRilla's hand. But he would not touch the food she brought for him.
"I'm afraid he's sick," she said anxiously. She hated to go away andleave him. But no bad news came that day--nor the next--nor the next.Rilla's fear lifted. Dog Monday howled no more and resumed his routineof train meeting and watching. When five days had passed the Inglesidepeople began to feel that they might be cheerful again. Rilla dashedabout the kitchen helping Susan with the breakfast and singing sosweetly and clearly that Cousin Sophia across the road heard her andcroaked out to Mrs. Albert,
"'Sing before eating, cry before sleeping,' I've always heard."
But Rilla Blythe shed no tears before the nightfall. When her father,his face grey and drawn and old, came to her that afternoon and toldher that Walter had been killed in action at Courcelette she crumpledup in a pitiful little heap of merciful unconsciousness in his arms.Nor did she waken to her pain for many hours.
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