Mistress Pat

by L. M. Montgomery

  “Please don’t let’s quarrel,” said Pat helplessly. In a desperate effort to be calm she picked up her best pair of silk stockings and began to polish the mirror with them, not in the least knowing what she held in her hand. It was the last straw for Rae.

  “Who is quarrelling? Don’t try to put the blame on me.”

  “Oh, Rae, Rae…don’t twist everything I say to mean something else.”

  “Oh, don’t try to twist things, she says. Who twisted things this summer…all summer…to make him think me a child? It’s such an interesting thing to watch the man you love making love to another woman and that woman your own sister who is deliberately trying to attract him, just for her own amusement!”

  “Rae…never…never! I did try to save you from…from…”

  “Save me! From what? You may well hesitate. You know you made him think I cared for Jerry Arnold. Jerry Arnold! A pipsqueak like that! It was Lawrence Wheeler I loved all the time and you knew it. He loved me, too, till you came between us. Yes, he did. The first time we met we felt…we knew…we had loved each other in a thousand former lives.”

  For the life of her Pat couldn’t help smiling. She recognized the phrase. Hadn’t Lawrence Wheeler of the soulful eyes said it to her?

  “Suppose we talk…or try to…as if we were grown up,” she suggested kindly.

  “Oh, but I’m not grown up…I’m only a child.” Rae was pacing feverishly up and down the room. “A child can’t see…can’t love…can’t suffer. Can’t suffer! Oh, what I’ve gone through these past two months! And nobody saw…nobody understood…nobody has ever tried to understand me. You didn’t. You care for nothing but Silver Bush. You acted as you did just because you’re so crazy to keep Silver Bush always the same. My own sister to use me like that!”

  Pat lost her patience and her temper, too. The idea of a scene like this over a creature like Larry Wheeler!

  “This has gone far enough,” she said frostily.

  “I agree with you,” Rae was frost instantly also.

  “When you come to your senses,” said Pat, “you’ll realize perhaps just what a goose you’ve made of yourself over a go-preacher with cow’s eyes.”

  “Don’t you think you’re really being a little vulgar, my dear Patricia?” said Rae, with eyes of blue ice. “I am of no consequence of course…but there is such a thing as good taste. You seem to have forgotten that, along with several other things. Never mention Lawrence Wheeler’s name to me again.”

  Pat clamped her teeth together to keep from saying things she would have been terribly sorry for afterwards. The urge to say them passed.

  “We’ve both lost our tempers, Rae, and said foolish things. We’ll feel differently in the morning.”

  “Oh, will we? I’ll never feel differently…and I’ll never forgive you, Pat Gardiner…never. You and that old widower of yours!”

  “Who is being vulgar now?” Pat was furious again. “At least Mr. Kirk is a gentleman!”

  “And Lawrence Wheeler isn’t, I suppose?”

  “You can suppose what you like. You’ve dragged his name up again. He was simply too sloppy for anything. I never dreamed that you…Rae Gardiner of Silver Bush…could take him seriously. And he’d been eating onions before he proposed to me.”

  “Oh, so he proposed to you. I didn’t know you had lured him on that far. I thought even you had enough self-respect to stop short of that.”

  “We have had enough of this,” said Pat, her voice trembling.

  “I think so, too. But let me tell you this, Pat Gardiner. Since you are so bent on ‘saving’ people you’d better look after Sid a bit. He’s dangling around May Binnie again. I’ve known it for weeks but I didn’t say anything about it because I knew it would worry you. I had a little consideration for you. But you’ve been so intent on running my life that it has ceased to matter to you what Sid does, I suppose.”

  “Rae dearest…we’re both upset…we’re both saying things we shouldn’t…let’s forget this. We mustn’t let anyone know we’ve quarreled.”

  “I don’t care if all the world knows it.” Rae marched out of the room. She did not come back. That night she slept in the Poet’s room…if she slept at all. Pat didn’t. It was the first time since the night before mother’s operation that she had lain awake all night. Surely she and Rae couldn’t have quarreled…after all their years of comradeship and love…all their secrets kept and shared together. It must be a horrid dream. The Binnie girls were always quarrelling…one expected nothing better of them. But such things simply couldn’t happen at Silver Bush. Was there any truth in what Rae had said about Sid and May? There couldn’t be. It was nothing but idle gossip. She knew Sid better than that. Of course May Binnie was pretty, with the obvious, indisputable prettiness of rich black hair, vivid color, laughing, brilliant, bold eyes. But Sid could never care for her after Bets…or even after sweet foolish mistaken Dorothy. Pat brushed the teasing thought away. It was so easy to start gossip in the Glens. Nothing mattered just now but the quarrel with Rae.

  Then it was dawn. Very early dawn is a dreary thing. Nothing is quite human. The world is “fey.” And there was no Rae in the little bed beside hers. Pat had always loved to watch Rae waking up…she had such a pretty way of doing it. And the morning sunshine always poured in on her head, making it like a warm pool of gold on the pillow. But there was no Rae this morning…no sunshine. Pat sat up and looked out of the window. The different farmsteads were beginning to take form in the pale gray light on the thin snow. The little row of sheep tracks leading from the church barn across the Mince Pie field might have been made by Pan. A chilly foolish little wind of dawn was sighing around the eaves. A flock of tiny snowbirds settled on the roof of the granary. The haystacks in the Field of Farewell Summers looked gnome-like in the pale grayness. Pat gazed drearily at the blown clouds and the wide white fields and the lonely star of morning. Everything seemed so much the same…and everything was so horribly changed.

  Pat looked like the ghost of herself at breakfast but Rae came down, cool, gay, smiling, her face apparently as blithe as the day. She tossed an airy word to Pat, bantered Sid, complimented Judy on her muffins and went off to school with a parting pat for Bold-and-Bad.

  Pat tried to feel relieved. It had blown over. Rae was ashamed of her outburst and wanted to ignore it. She was just going to act as if nothing had happened.

  “I won’t remember it either,” vowed Pat. But there was a sore spot in her heart, even after she had talked it all over with Judy…Judy who had suspected all along that Rae was nursing some secret sorrow that loomed large in the eyes of seventeen.

  “Judy, it was dreadful. We both lost our tempers and said blistering things…things that can never be forgotten.”

  “Oh, oh, it do be amazing how much we can be forgetting in life,” said Judy.

  “But it was so…so ugly, Judy. There has never been a quarrel at Silver Bush before.”

  “Oh, oh, hasn’t there been now, darlint? Sure there was lashings av thim whin yer dad and his gang were growing up. The rafters would ring wid their shouting at each other…and Edith giving her opinion av iverybody ivery once in so long. This will be passing away just as they did. Did ye iver be hearing the rason ould Angus MacLeod av the South Glin didn’t hang himsilf? He made up his mind to, all bekase life did be getting too tejus. And thin he had a fight wid his wife…the first one they’d iver had. It livened him up so he wint out and used the rope to tie up a calf and niver was timpted agin. As for poor liddle Cuddles, that sore and hurt and thinking it do be going to hurt foriver…just ye be taking no notice, Patsy…be yersilf and ivery thing will be just the same only more so.”

  “Mother must know nothing of it…I won’t have mother hurt,” said Pat firmly.

  “If she can be kaping it from her she do be cliverer than I’m thinking,” Judy told Gentleman Tom when Pat had gone out. “And I’m
fearing this quarrel do be a bit more sarious than I’ve been pretinding. Whin two people don’t be caring over-much for aich other a quarrel niver amounts to much betwane thim. It’s soon made up. But whin they love aich other like Patsy and Cuddles it do be going so dape it’s rale hard to be forgetting it. I’m wishing Long Alec had chased that go-pracher off Silver Bush wid a shot-gun the first time he iver showed his cow-eyes here. Whativer cud inny girl be seeing in him? Didn’t he nearly sit down on Gintleman Tom the first time he called!”

  CHAPTER 28

  December was a hard month for Pat. Life seemed to drag itself along like a wounded animal. Winter set in early. It snowed continuously for three weeks. Little storm demons danced in the yard and whirled along the lanes. Everywhere were huge banks of snow, white in the sun, pale blue in the shadows. There were quaint caps of it on the unused chimneys. It was piled deep in the Secret Field when Pat went to it on snowshoes. One felt that spring could never come again, either to Silver Bush or one’s heart. On a rare fine day the world seemed made of diamond dust, cold, dazzling, splendid, heartless. There was the beauty of winter moonlight on frosted panes and chill harpings of wind beneath cold, unfriendly stars. At least, Pat felt they were unfriendly. Things were not the same. Always between her and Rae was the coldness and shadow of a thing that must not be spoken of…that must be forgotten but could not be forgotten. Rae chattered continuously of surface things but in regard to everything else she preserved a silence more dreadful than anger. There was always that false gaiety, good-humored and polite! To Pat that politeness of Rae’s was a terrible thing. They might have been strangers…they were strangers. Rae seemed to have locked her heart against her sister forever.

  Just before Christmas Rae announced carelessly that she had been awarded a scholarship…a three months’ course in nature study at the O. A. C. in Guelph and meant to take advantage of it. The trustees had granted her leave of absence and Molly MacLeod of South Glen was to take the school for the three months.

  “That is splendid,” said Pat, who knew Rae must have been aware of the possibility of this for weeks and had never said a word about it.

  “Isn’t it?” Rae was brightly enthusiastic. She was very busy during the following days preparing for her going and talking casually of her plans. She was all radiance and sparkle and teased Judy mercilessly because Judy was afraid she would learn to smoke cigarettes at Guelph. But she never consulted Pat about anything and when Pat, at Christmas, gave her a crimson kimono with darker crimson ’mums embroidered on it, remarking that she thought it would be nice for Guelph, Rae merely said, “How ripping of you! It’s perfectly gorgeous.” But she never told Pat that Uncle Horace had sent a check for a new coat and when she bought a stunning one of natural leopard with cuffs and collar of seal, she showed it to Judy and mother and the aunts but not to Pat…merely left it lying on her bed where Pat could see it if she chose. Pat was too hurt to mention it.

  When Rae went away, looking very smart and grown-up in her leopard coat and a little green hat tipped provocatively over one eye, she kissed Pat good-bye as she did the others but her lips merely brushed Pat’s cheek and most of the kiss was expended on air. Pat watched her out of sight with a breaking heart and cried herself to sleep that night. The loneliness was hideous. She couldn’t bear to look at the bed where Rae had slept or the little old bronze slippers Rae had danced in so often but thought too worn to take to Guelph. One of them was lying forlornly under the bureau, the other under the bed. Pat got up and put them together. They did not look quite so forlorn and discarded then.

  True, there had been no real comradeship between her and Rae for weeks, though they had shared the same room and sat at the same table. But now that Rae was gone it seemed as if hope had gone with her. Pat was too proud and hurt even to talk it over with Judy. It was the first time she had not been able to talk a thing over with Judy.

  That cold, indifferent good-bye kiss of Rae’s! Little Cuddles who used to put her chubby arms about her neck and love her “so hard!” Pat couldn’t bear to think of it. She looked at her new calendar hanging on the wall…a very elaborate affair which Tillytuck had given her. She had always thought a new calendar a fascinating thing, yet with something a little terrible about it. It was rather fun to flip over the leaves and wonder just what would be happening on this or that day. Now she hated to see it. There were three months to be lived through before Rae would come back. And when she did come would things be any better?

  Bold-and-Bad padded into the room and jumped on the bed. Pat gathered him into her arms. Dear old cat, he was still left to her anyhow. And Silver Bush! Whatever came and went, whoever loved or did not love her, there was still Silver Bush.

  Nevertheless Pat looked so haggard and woe-begone at breakfast that Judy wished things not lawful to be uttered concerning go-preachers.

  During that dreary winter Pat’s only real pleasures were her evenings at the Long House—Suzanne and David were so kind and understanding…especially David. “I always feel so comfortable with him,” thought Pat…and her letters from Hilary. One of his stimulating epistles always heartened her up. She saved them up to read in the little violet-blue hour before night came…the hour she and Rae had been used to spend in their room, talking and joking. She always slept better after a letter from Hilary. And very poorly after a letter from Rae. For Rae wrote Pat in regular turn…flippant little notes, each seeming just like another turn of the screw. They were full of college news and jokes, such as she might have written to anyone. But never a word about Silver Bush affairs…no reference to home jokes. Rae kept all that for her letters to mother and Judy. “When I see the evening star over the trees on the campus I always think of Silver Bush,” Rae wrote Judy. If Rae had only written that to her, thought Pat.

  Pat sent Rae a box of goodies and Rae was quite effusive.

  “No doubt it’s a youthful taste to be thinking of things to eat,” she wrote back, “but how the girls did appreciate your box. It was really awfully kind of you to think of sending it,”…“as if I were some outsider who couldn’t be expected to send her a box,” thought Pat…“I hear that Uncle Tom has had the mumps and that Tillytuck is still howling hymns to the moon in the granary. Also that Sid is still dancing attendance on May Binnie. She’ll get him yet. The Binnies never let go. Do you suppose North Glen will faint if I appear out in a bright yellow rain coat when I come home? Or one of those long slinky sophisticated evening dresses? Silver Bush must really wake up to the fact that fashions change. I had a letter from Hilary last night. It’s odd to think this is his last year in college. He has won another architectural scholarship and is going to locate in British Columbia when he is through. He thinks he will be able to get out here to see me before I leave.”

  Hilary had not told Pat about any of his plans. The announcement of Mr. Wheeler’s marriage was in the paper that day. Judy viciously poked the sheet that bore it into the fire and held it down with the poker.

  Two weeks later it was the end of March and Judy was getting her dye-pot ready. And Rae was coming home. Pat found herself dreading it…and broken-hearted because she was dreading it.

  “What is the matter with Pat this spring?” Long Alec asked Judy. “She hasn’t seemed like herself all winter…and now she’s positively moping. Is she in love with anybody?”

  Judy snorted.

  “Well then, does she need a tonic? I remember you used to dose us all with sulfur and molasses every spring, Judy. Perhaps it might do her good.”

  Judy did not think sulfur and molasses would help Pat much.

  CHAPTER 29

  It was a mild day when Rae came home…a day full of the soft languor of early spring when nature is still tired after her wrestle with winter. There had been a light, misty snowfall in the night and Pat went for a walk to the Secret Field in the afternoon to see if she could win from it a little courage to face Rae’s return. It was very lovely in those silent woods w
ith their white-mossed trees. Every step she took revealed some new enchantment as if some ambitious elfin artificer were striving to show just how much could be done with nothing but the white mystery of snow in hands that knew how to make use of it. Such a snowfall, thought Pat, was the finest test of beauty. Whenever there was any ugliness or distortion it showed it mercilessly: but beauty and grace were added unto beauty and grace even as unto him that hath shall be given more abundantly. She wished she had someone to enjoy the loveliness with her…Hilary…Suzanne…David…Rae. Rae! But Rae would be coming home in a few hours’ time, artificially cordial, looking at her with bright, indifferent eyes.

  “I just can’t bear it,” thought Pat miserably.

  When Pat heard the jingle of sleigh-bells coming up the lane in the “dim” she fled to her room. Everyone else was in the kitchen waiting for Rae…mother and Sid and Judy and Tillytuck and the cats. Pat felt she had no part or lot among them.

  It had turned colder. There was a thin green sky behind the snowy trees and the silver gladness of an evening star over the birches. Pat heard the noise of laughter and greeting in the kitchen. Well, she supposed she must go down.

  There was a sound of flying feet on the stairs. Suddenly it seemed to Pat that there was no air in the room. Rae burst in…a rosy, radiant Rae, her eyes as blue as ever, her mouth like a kissed flower. She engulfed Pat in a fierce leopard-skin hug.

  “Patsy darling…why weren’t you down? Oh, but it’s good to see you again!”

  This was the old Rae. Pat was afraid she was going to howl. All at once life was beautiful again. It was as if she had wakened up from a horrible dream and seen a starlit sky.

  “Pat, haven’t you a word to say to me? You aren’t sore at me still, are you? Oh, I wouldn’t blame you if you were. I was the world’s prize idiot. I realized that very soon after we quarreled but I was too proud to admit it. And you wrote me such icy, stiff letters while I was away.”