“I never heard her claim they were,” retorted Marta. “It is Susan Baker who does the bragging...”
“How is the family coming on?” bantered Dr. Galbraith on his first call after his return.
“Splendidly,” said Penelope gallantly. They were, she told herself. It was not a lie. They were perfectly healthy, happy, normal boys. Roger Galbraith should never suspect that she lay awake at nights worrying about them and the downfall of her theories, or what a horrid feeling came over her whenever she heard the telephone ring.
“You aren’t coming on splendidly, Penny,” said Dr. Galbraith, with real concern in his face and tone. “You’re thin... and your eyes have a strained look...”
“It is the heat,” knowing with another shudder that she was telling a lie. “It’s been a frightfully hot summer.”... Well, it had. And she was very tired. She seemed to realize it all at once. And yet the last time she had seen Mrs. Blythe... she seemed to be running up against her almost continually now... she had so many friends among the summer colony and cars made the distance between town and Glen St. Mary almost nothing now. And Mrs. Blythe had six children. Penelope would never have admitted it but she was really coming to hate Mrs. Blythe... she, Penelope Craig, who had never hated anyone in her life. And yet what had Mrs. Blythe ever done to her? Nothing but have a family whom everyone praised. Penelope would never dream of admitting she was jealous... she, Penelope Craig. Besides, she had heard plenty of tales, whether true or not...
Well, she wouldn’t make any dates for fall or winter lectures. Mrs. Blythe never went about the country talking. That woman again! But anyhow you couldn’t be expected to go careering about the country telling other women how to train their children when you had two boys of your own to look after. She would be as stay-at-home and domestic as Mrs. Blythe herself.
“That woman is becoming an obsession with me,” said Penelope desperately. “I must stop thinking about her. Her children have had advantages mine have not. I wish Roger wasn’t so chummy with Dr. Blythe. Of course the man brags about his children... all men do. And Theodore and Lionel never tried to burn anybody at the stake... while Mrs. Blythe was an orphan from goodness knows where. She has simply got on my nerves because Marta is always quoting something that Susan Baker, whoever she is, has said. I don’t care if the Ingleside family is perfect. Perhaps Mrs. Blythe has been at some of my lectures...”
The thought was cheering and removed from Penelope’s mind the fear that she was going insane. Besides, Roger was back. There was a comfort in the thought, though Penelope would never have admitted it.
“Please, Aunt Penelope,” said Lionel... who had begun calling her “aunt” quite naturally after Theodore came... “Red has jumped off the roof of the garage and he’s lying on the stones. I think he’s dead. He said he’d jump off if I wouldn’t buy his dead rat for George. I knew George wouldn’t eat a dead rat. And I wouldn’t... and he did. Does a funeral cost much?”
This was probably the longest speech Lionel had ever made in his life... at least to a grown-up person.
Before it was finished Penelope and Marta were running like mad creatures across the yard to the garage.
Theodore was lying face downwards in a horrible, huddled little heap on the cruel-looking stones.
“Every bone of him is broken,” groaned Marta. Penelope wrung her hands.
“Telephone for Roger... quick, Marta, quick!”
Marta was quick. As she disappeared into the house a lady in flowered chiffon, with very golden hair and very brilliant complexion and very red lips, came floating across the yard to where Penelope was standing in a trance of horror, not daring to touch Theodore.
“Miss Craig, I presume... I... I am Sandra Valdez... I came... Is that MY CHILD?”
With a piercing shriek the newcomer threw herself in the dust beside the limp body of the dishevelled Theodore.
Penelope seized her by the arm.
“Don’t touch him... don’t dare to touch him... you may do him harm... the doctor will be here any moment.”
“Is this how I find my darling?” wailed the lady of the scarlet lips... which had not paled in the least, any more than her cheeks. “My own, only little son! What have you done to him? Miss Craig, I ask you what you have done to him?”
“Nothing... nothing. He did it himself.”
Oh, life was too terrible! Would Roger never come? Suppose he was out on another case! There were other doctors, of course, but she did not trust them. Nobody but Roger would do.
“See if Red can wriggle his toes,” said Lionel. “If he can his back ain’t broke. Ask him to wriggle his toes, Aunt Penelope.”
“Oh, my son... my son... my poor little son!” moaned Miss Valdez, rocking backward and forward over her son’s apparently unconscious body. “I should never have left you to the care of others... I should have taken you with me...”
“What’s all this?”
Dr. Galbraith had dropped in for a call while Marta was still trying frantically to locate him. It did not matter to Penelope that Dr. Blythe of Glen St. Mary was with him. They were on their way to a consultation. Nothing mattered but Theodore. Penelope almost flung herself on Dr. Galbraith’s breast.
“Oh, Roger... Theodore jumped from the roof. I think he’s dead... and this woman... oh, can you do anything?”
“Not if he’s dead, of course,” said Dr. Galbraith skeptically. He seemed very cool about it all.
“IS HE DEAD?” demanded Sandra Valdez in capitals, springing up and confronting Dr. Galbraith like a queen of tragedy.
“I don’t think so,” said Dr. Galbraith, still coolly. Dr. Blythe seemed trying to hide a smile.
Dr. Galbraith stopped and tried Theodore’s pulse. His lips tightened ominously and he turned him callously over.
Theodore’s blue eyes opened.
“My son!” breathed Miss Valdez. “Oh, tell me you are living! Just tell me that!”
Then she gave a shriek as the doctor unceremoniously grasped Theodore’s shoulder and pulled him to his feet.
“You brute! Oh, you brute! Miss Craig, please tell me what you mean by having such a man? Surely there are doctors in Charlottetown capable...”
“Dr. Galbraith is one of the best doctors on the Island,” said Marta indignantly.
“What does this mean?” said Dr. Galbraith, in a tone which Theodore understood. Dr. Blythe was actually laughing.
“I just wanted to scare them all,” said Theodore with unaccustomed meekness. “I... I didn’t jump from the roof... I just told Bumps I would to scare him. And when his back was turned I just ran round here and yelled and flopped. That’s all, honest.”
Dr. Galbraith turned to Penelope.
“I am going to teach this young man a lesson he won’t forget in a hurry. And you are going to marry me inside of three weeks. I’m not asking you... I’m telling you. And no interference. It’s time somebody did something. Child psychology is all very well but you’ve lost fifteen pounds since I’ve been away... and I’m at the end of my patience.”
“Congratulations,” said that abominable Dr. Blythe.
“Don’t you dast touch Red,” yelled Lionel. “This ain’t any of your business. Aunt Penelope is bringing us up. If you do I’ll bite you... I’ll...”
Dr. Blythe took Lionel by the scruff of the neck and set him on the gatepost.
“That will be enough out of you, my lad. You stay there until Dr. Galbraith says you can come down.”
A few minutes later certain sounds from the interior of the barn indicated that Theodore was not so indifferent to Dr. Galbraith’s punishment as he had been to Marta’s.
“He’s killing him,” gasped Sandra Valdez with another shriek.
“Oh, his life is safe enough,” said Dr. Blythe, still laughing.
But it was Penelope who stepped in front of Sandra Valdez... Penelope, of all people.
“Don’t you interfere. Theodore has a spanking coming to him... several spankings. I’ve been a weak
, silly fool... yes, Dr. Blythe, you have a right to laugh.”
“I wasn’t laughing at you, Miss Craig,” said Dr. Blythe apologetically. “I was laughing at the trick Theodore had played. I knew the moment we drove in at the gate it was only a trick. So did Galbraith.”
“After this is over you may have him, Miss Valdez,” said Penelope. “Bumps is enough for me... even with...”
Miss Valdez was suddenly meek... and natural.
“I... I don’t want him... I can’t be bothered with a child in my career. You must realize that, Miss Craig. I only wanted to be sure he had a good home and was well-treated.”
“He has... he is...”
“And had a mother... a loving mother...”
“He will. And,” added Penelope to herself, “a father, too. Laugh away, Dr. Blythe. I suppose your own children are such perfect...”
“They are very far from being perfect,” said Dr. Blythe, who had stopped laughing. “In fact, they... the boys at least... are very much like Lionel and Theodore in many ways. But they have three people to correct them. So we keep them in fair order. When a spanking is indicated we wait till Susan Baker is out of the house. And... will you let me say it?... I am very glad you have made up your mind to marry Dr. Galbraith at last.”
“Who told you I had?” blushed Penelope.
“I heard what he said. And I knew it when I heard you forbid Miss Valdez to interfere. We doctors are wise old fellows. And I am not running down your studies in child psychology, Miss Craig. There is a wonderful lot of wisdom in them. Mrs. Blythe has a bookcase full of volumes about it. But every once in so long...”
“Something else is required,” admitted Penelope. “I’ve been a perfect idiot, Dr. Blythe. I hope you and Mrs. Blythe will come to Willow Run the next time you are in town. I... I should like to become better acquainted with her.”
“I can’t answer for myself... I generally come in on professional business only. But I’m sure Mrs. Blythe will be delighted. She was charmed with you the day she met you at Mrs. Elston’s party.”
“Really?” said Penelope, wondering why she should feel so highly gratified. “I’m sure we have many things in common.”
The sounds from the garage had ceased.
“Will Dr. Galbraith whip us often?” inquired Lionel curiously.
“I am sure he will not,” said Dr. Blythe. “For one thing, you will not require it. For another, I am sure your Aunt Penelope would not allow it.”
“As if she could stop him when he had made up his mind,” said Lionel. “I’ll bet Mrs. Blythe couldn’t stop you.”
“Oh, couldn’t she! You don’t know as much about matrimony now as you will some day, my lad. But I recommend it for all that. And I’m sure you’ll like Dr. Galbraith for an uncle.”
“I’ve always liked him... and I think Aunt Penelope should have married him long ago,” said Lionel.
“How did you know he wanted to marry me?” cried Penelope.
“Red told me. ‘Sides, everyone knows it. I like a man round. He’ll keep Marta in her place.”
“Oh, you mustn’t talk of your Aunt Marta like that, Lionel.”
“I’ll bet he won’t call me Lionel.”
“Why don’t you like Lionel?” inquired Penelope curiously.
“It’s such a sissy name,” said Lionel.
“It was the name your dear mother chose for you,” said Penelope reproachfully. “Of course, she may have been a wee bit romantic...”
“Don’t you dast say a word against my mother,” said Lionel angrily.
Penelope could never have told why, but this pleased her. And Red and Dr. Galbraith were looking as if they were quite good friends. After all, the thrashing had not likely been a very severe one. Roger was not that kind of a man. And even Mrs. Blythe studied books on child culture. The world was not such a bad place after all. And Red and Bumps were not worse than other boys after all. She would wager they were just about as good as the Ingleside boys... only the latter had had the advantages of a father.
Well, Red and Bumps...
The Reconciliation
Miss Shelley was going over to Lowbridge to forgive Lisle Stephens for stealing Ronald Evans from her thirty years ago.
She had had a hard struggle to bring herself to do it. Night after night she had wrestled with herself. She looked so pale and wan that her niece secretly consulted Dr. Blythe about her and got the tonic he recommended.
But Miss Shelley would not take the tonic. The struggle continued. Yet morning after morning she confessed herself defeated. And she knew quite well that she could not look the Rev. Mr. Meredith in the face until she had won the battle. He lived on such a high spiritual plane... to quote Mrs. Blythe... that it was hard for him to understand things like the quarrel between herself and Lisle Stephens.
“We must forgive... we must not cherish old bitternesses and grievances and wrongs,” he had said, looking like an inspired prophet.
The Presbyterians of Glen St. Mary worshipped him... especially Miss Shelley. He was a widower and had a family but she would not let herself remember that. Neither did she think any more highly of Mrs. Dr. Blythe after hearing her say to her husband as they had come down the church steps, “I suppose I’ll have to forgive Josie Pye after that sermon.”
Miss Shelley had no idea who Josie Pye was or what had been the nature of the quarrel between her and Mrs. Blythe. But it could never have been as bitter as the one between her and Lisle Stephens.
Miss Shelley could not conceive of Mrs. Blythe cherishing bitterness for thirty years. She liked her but she thought her too shallow for that. She had been heard to say that it was a pity Dr. Blythe had not selected a woman of deeper nature for his wife.
Miss Shelley’s neighbours had said that she thought he ought to have waited for her niece. But Miss Shelley did not know that and in due time she came to like Mrs. Blythe very well.
And at last she had brought herself to forgive Lisle and not only forgive her but to go and tell her she forgave her.
She felt indescribably uplifted over her victory. If only Mr. Meredith might know of it! But there was no chance of that. She could never tell him and she was very sure Lisle would not. She drew her shabby fur coat around her withered throat and looked at all travellers who passed her with condescending pity. It was not likely one of them knew the triumph of thus conquering their baser selves.
Lisle Stephens and she had been friends all through childhood and girlhood. Lisle had no end of beaus, but she, Myrtle Shelley, a little, thin, red-haired girl with large blue eyes, never had any until Ronald Evans came. Lisle had been away then on a visit to her aunt in Toronto.
It was apparently love at first sight with them both. Ronald was handsome. Slim-waisted and lean-hipped, with sleek, dark hair and dark, heavy-lidded eyes. There had never been anyone like him in Glen St. Mary.
Then came the barn dance.
Grey Myrtle Shelley recalled that dance as of yesterday. She had looked forward to it so eagerly. It would be the first time she had danced with Ronald. They would go home together beneath the moon which seemed waiting for the miracle.
Perhaps he would kiss her. She knew the Glen St. Mary girls were often kissed by the boys... she had even heard some of them boast of it... but she, Myrtle Shelley, had never been kissed.
She remembered the gown she had worn to the dance. Her mother thought it very frivolous. It was of pale green nun’s veiling with a red belt. She thought it became her. Ronald had once told her her skin was like a flower. That had been flattery but it was pleasant to hear. She had not had a great many compliments in her life.
When she reached the barn the first thing she had seen was Ronald dancing with Lisle, who had returned home that day. Ronald waved his hand to Myrtle but he did not ask her to dance. He danced with Lisle most of the evening and when they were not dancing they were sitting out in one of the buggies behind the barn.
He ate supper with her and after supper they disappeared. He never
even looked at Myrtle with his handsome, careless eyes.
She came face to face with them later under the gay Chinese lanterns strung outside the barn. Lisle was flushed and excited. Her thick, wheat-hued hair was tied close to her head with a fillet of blue ribbon. Her tilted, golden-brown eyes were shining. What chance had anyone against eyes like that?
“Hello, darling,” she said to Myrtle, breezily and brazenly. “I just got home today. What have you been doing with yourself while I was away? Busy as a bee, as usual, I suppose, you industrious little creature. Mr. Evans, have you met my friend, Miss Shelley? We’ve always been great chums.”
Myrtle had lifted her hand and slapped Lisle across her face.
“What on earth do you mean, Myrtle Shelley?” Lisle had exclaimed indignantly.
To do Lisle justice she had not the faintest idea why she had been slapped. She had never heard that Ronald Evans was “beauing” Myrtle Shelley... though it might not have made much difference if she had!
Myrtle said nothing... had simply turned her back and gone home.
“Well, of all the jealous creatures!” Lisle had exclaimed when Ronald had made some lame explanation.
Lisle had flaunted Ronald for several weeks after that, then dropped him before he went away. She said he had nothing in either his head or his pocket. She tried to make up with Myrtle but was icily repulsed.
The next spring Lisle had married Justin Rogers, a Lowbridge merchant, who had been “after her” for years, and had gone to Lowbridge to live. Myrtle Shelley had never seen her since, though she had heard ten years ago of Justin Rogers’ death.
But now, thirty years after that dreadful night, she was going to forgive Lisle, fully and freely, at last. She revelled in her luxury of forgiveness.
It was quite a distance from the Glen to Lowbridge and Miss Shelley refused all offers of a “lift.” Her feet ached and the nipping wind brought tears into her faded blue eyes. She also knew that the tip of her nose was red. But she kept on resolutely.
Lisle’s house was a trim, well-groomed one. It was said Justin Rogers had left his widow well provided for. The bay window was full of very fine geraniums and begonias. Miss Shelley had never had any luck with begonias, though Susan Baker had given her slips from the finest plants at Ingleside.
The Complete Works of L M Montgomery Page 585