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By Root 503 0

till next spring. He had brought her mayflowers for years and years and years, ever since he was four, but he wouldn’t do it next spring. No, sir! S’posin’ he et a lot of the little green apples on the early tree and got nice and sick? Maybe that would scare them. S’posin’ he never washed behind his ears again? S’posin’ he made faces at everybody in church next Sunday? S’posin’ he put a caterpillar on Aunt Mary Maria… a big, striped, woolly caterpillar? S’posin’ he ran away to the harbour and hid in Captain David Reese’s ship and sailed out of the harbour in the morning on his way to South America? Would they be sorry then? S’posin’ he never came back? S’posin’ he went hunting jaggers in Brazil? Would they be sorry then? No, he bet they wouldn’t. Nobody loved him. There was a hole in his pants pocket. Nobody had mended it. Well, he didn’t care. He’d just show that hole to everybody in the Glen and let people see how neglected he was. His wrongs surged up and overwhelmed him.

Tick-tack… tick-tack… tick-tack… went the old grandfather clock in the hall that had been brought to Ingleside after Grandfather Blythe’s death… a deliberate old clock dating from the days when there was such a thing as time. Generally Jem loved it, now he hated it. It seemed to be laughing at him. ‘Ha, ha, bedtime is coming. The other fellows can go to the Harbour Mouth, but you go to bed. Ha, ha… ha, ha… ha, ha!’

Why did he have to go to bed every night? Yes, why?

Susan came out on her way to the Glen and looked tenderly at the small, rebellious figure.

‘You needn’t go to bed till I get back, Little Jem,’ she said indulgently.

‘I ain’t going to bed tonight,’ said Jem fiercely. ‘I’m going to run away, that’s what I’m going to do, old Susan Baker. I’m going to go and jump into the pond, old Susan Baker.’

Susan did not enjoy being called old, even by Little Jem. She stalked away in a grim silence. He did need a bit of disciplining. The Shrimp, who had followed her out, feeling a yearning for companionship, squatted down on his black haunches before Jem, but got only a glare for his pains. ‘Clear out! Sitting there on your bottom, staring like Aunt Mary Maria! Scat! Oh, you won’t, won’t you! Then take that.’

Jem shied Shirley’s little tin wheelbarrow that was lying handily near at the Shrimp, who fled with a plaintive yowl to the sanctuary of the sweetbriar hedge. Look at that! Even the family cat hated him! What was the use of going on living?

He picked up the candy lion. Nan had eaten the tail and most of the hindquarters, but it was still quite a lion. Might as well eat it. It might be the last lion he’d ever eat. By the time Jem had finished the lion and licked his fingers he had made up his mind what he was going to do. It was the only thing a fellow could do when a fellow wasn’t allowed to do anything.

6

‘Why in the world is the house lighted up like that?’ exclaimed Anne, when she and Gilbert turned in at the gate at eleven o’clock. ‘Company must have come.’

But there was no company visible when Anne hurried into the house. Nor was anyone else visible. There was a light in the kitchen… in the living-room… in the dining-room… in Susan’s room and the upstairs hall… but no sign of an occupant.

‘What do you suppose –’ began Anne, but she was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. Gilbert answered, listened for a moment, uttered an ejaculation of horror, and tore out without even a glance at Anne. Evidently something dreadful had happened and there was no time to be wasted in explanations.

Anne was used to this… as the wife of a man who waits on life and death must be. With a philosophical shrug she removed her hat and coat. She felt a trifle annoyed with Susan, who really shouldn’t have gone out and left all the lights blazing and all the doors wide open.

‘Mrs… Doctor… dear,’ said a voice that could not possibly be Susan’s… but was.

Anne stared at Susan. Such a Susan… hatless… her grey hair full of bits of hay… her print dress shockingly stained and discoloured. And her face!

‘Susan… what has happened? Susan!’

‘Little Jem