Anne of Ingleside - L. M. Montgomery [21]
‘Your mother’s awful sick,’ he told Walter.
‘She… she isn’t,’ cried Walter.
‘She is, too. I heard Aunt Jen telling Uncle Dick…’ Fred had heard his aunt say, ‘Anne Blythe is sick,’ and it was fun to crack in the ‘awful’. ‘She’ll likely be dead before you get home.’
Walter looked around with tormented eyes. Again Alice ranged herself by him… and again the rest gathered around the standard of Fred. They felt something alien about this dark, handsome child… they felt an urge to tease him.
‘If she is sick,’ said Walter, ‘Father will cure her.’
He would… he must!
‘I’m afraid that will be impossible,’ said Fred, pulling a long face, but winking at Andy.
‘Nothing is impossible for Father,’ insisted Walter loyally.
‘Why, Russ Carter went to Charlottetown just for a day last summer and when he came home his mother was dead as a doornail,’ said Bill.
‘And buried,’ said Andy, thinking to add an extra dramatic touch, whether a fact or not didn’t matter. ‘Russ was awful mad he’d missed the funeral, funerals are so jolly.’
‘And I’ve never seen a single funeral,’ said Opal sadly.
‘Well, there’ll be lots of chances for you yet,’ said Andy. ‘But you see even Dad couldn’t keep Mrs Carter alive, and he’s a lot better doctor than your father.’
‘He isn’t…’
‘Yes, he is, and a lot better-looking, too…’
‘He isn’t…’
‘Something always happens when you go away from home,’ said Opal. ‘What will you feel like if you find Ingleside burned down when you go home?’
‘If your mother dies likely you children will all be separated,’ said Cora cheerfully. ‘Maybe you’ll come and live here.’
‘Yes… do,’ said Alice sweetly.
‘Oh, his father would want to keep them,’ said Bill. ‘He’d soon be marrying again. But maybe his father will die too. I heard Dad say Dr Blythe was working himself to death. Look at him staring. You’ve got girl’s eyes, sonny… girl’s eyes… girl’s eyes.’
‘Aw, shut up,’ said Opal, suddenly tiring of the sport. ‘You ain’t fooling him. He knows you’re only teasing. Let’s go down to the park and watch the baseball game. Walter and Alice can stay here. We can’t have kids tagging after us everywhere.’
Walter was not sorry to see them go. Neither apparently was Alice. They sat down on an apple log and looked shyly and contentedly at each other. ‘I’ll show you how to play jackstones,’ said Alice, ‘and lend you my plush kangaroo.’
When bed-time came Walter found himself put into the little hall bedroom alone. Mrs Parker considerately left a candle with him and a warm puff, for the July night was unreasonably cold as even a summer night in the Maritimes sometimes is. It almost seemed as if there might be a frost.
But Walter could not sleep, even with Alice’s plush kangaroo cuddled to his cheek. Oh, if he were only home in his own room where the big window looked out on the Glen and the little window, with a tiny roof all its own, looked out into the Scotch pine. Mother would come in and read poetry to him in her lovely voice.
‘I’m a big boy… I won’t cry… I wo-o-o-n’t…’ The tears came in spite of himself. What good were plush kangaroos? It seemed years since he had left home.
Presently the other children came back from the Park and crowded amiably into the room to sit on the bed and eat apples.
‘You’ve been crying, baby,’ jeered Andy. ‘You’re nothing but a sweet little girl. Momma’s Pet!’
‘Have a bit, kid,’ said Bill, proffering a half-gnawed apple. ‘And cheer up. I wouldn’t be surprised if your mother got better… if she’s got a constitution, that is. Dad says Mrs Stephen Flagg would-a died years ago if she hadn’t a constitution. Has your mother got one?’
‘Of course she has,’ said Walter. He had no idea what a constitution was, but if Mrs Stephen Flagg had one, Mother must.
‘Mrs Ab Sawyer died last week and Sam Clark’s mother died the week before,’ said Andy.
‘They died in the night,’ said Cora. ‘Mother says people mostly die in the night. I hope I won’t! Fancy going to heaven in your nightdress!’
‘Children! Children! Get off to your beds,’ called Mrs Parker.