Anne of Avonlea - L. M. Montgomery [92]
Mrs. Lynde rushed in where Anne had feared to tread. Nothing would have induced the latter to go over to the Harrison place; but she had her natural and proper share of curiosity and she felt secretly glad that Mrs. Lynde was going to solve the mystery. She and Marilla waited expectantly for that good lady’s return, but waited in vain. Mrs. Lynde did not revisit Green Gables that night. Davy, arriving home at nine o’clock from the Boulter place, explained why.
“I met Mrs. Lynde and some strange woman in the Hollow,” he said, “and gracious, how they were talking both at once! Mrs. Lynde said to tell you she was sorry it was too late to call tonight. Anne, I’m awful hungry. We had tea at Milty’s at four and I think Mrs. Boulter is real mean. She didn’t give us any preserves or cake…and even the bread was skurce.”
“Davy, when you go visiting you must never criticize anything you are given to eat,” said Anne solemnly. “It is very bad manners.”
“All right…I’ll only think it,” said Davy cheerfully. “Do give a fellow some supper, Anne.”
Anne looked at Marilla, who followed her into the pantry and shut the door cautiously.
“You can give him some jam on his bread, Anne. I know what tea at Levi Boulter’s is apt to be.”
Davy took his slice of bread and jam with a sigh.
“It’s a kind of disappointing world after all,” he remarked. “Milty has a cat that takes fits…she’s took a fit regular every day for three weeks. Milty says it’s awful fun to watch her. I went down today on purpose to see her have one but the mean old thing wouldn’t take a fit and just kept healthy as healthy, though Milty and me hung round all the afternoon and waited. But never mind”…Davy brightened up as the insidious comfort of the plum jam stole into his soul…“maybe I’ll see her in one sometime yet. It doesn’t seem likely she’d stop having them all at once when she’s been so in the habit of it, does it? This jam is awful nice.”
Davy had no sorrows that plum jam could not cure.
Sunday proved so rainy that there was no stirring abroad; but by Monday everybody had heard some version of the Harrison story. The school buzzed with it and Davy came home full of information.
“Marilla, Mr. Harrison has a new wife…well, not ezackly new, but they’ve stopped being married for quite a spell, Milty says. I always s’posed people had to keep on being married once they’d begun, but Milty says no, there’s ways of stopping if you can’t agree. Milty says one way is just to start off and leave your wife, and that’s what Mr. Harrison did. Milty says Mr. Harrison left his wife because she throwed things at him…hard things…and Arty Sloane says it was because she wouldn’t let him smoke, and Ned Clay says it was ’cause she never let up scolding him. I wouldn’t leave my wife for anything like that. I’d just put my foot down and say, ‘Mrs. Davy, you’ve just got to do what’ll please me ’cause I’m a man.’ That’d settle her pretty quick I guess. But Annetta Clay says she left him because he wouldn’t scrape his boots at the door and she doesn’t blame her. I’m going right over to Mr. Harrison’s this minute to see what she’s like.”
Davy soon returned, somewhat cast down.
“Mrs. Harrison was away…she’s gone to Carmody with Mrs. Rachel Lynde to get new paper for the parlor. And Mr. Harrison said to tell Anne to go over and see him ’cause he wants to have a talk with her. And say, the floor is scrubbed, and Mr. Harrison is shaved, though there wasn’t any preaching yesterday.”
The Harrison kitchen wore a very unfamiliar look to Anne. The floor was indeed scrubbed to a wonderful pitch of purity and so was every article of furniture in the room; the stove was polished until she could see her face in it; the walls were whitewashed and the windowpanes sparkled in the sunlight. By the table sat Mr. Harrison in his working clothes, which on Friday had been noted for sundry rents and tatters but which were