Anne of Ingleside - L. M. Montgomery [72]
Into the room crept Nan, eyes and nose crimson from crying.
‘Mummy, I have to tell you… I can’t wait any longer. Mummy, I’ve cheated God.’
Anne thrilled again to the soft touch of a child’s little clinging hand… a child seeking help and comfort in its bitter little problems. She listened while Nan sobbed out the whole story and managed to keep a straight face. Anne always had contrived to keep a straight face when a straight face was indicated, no matter how crazily she might laugh it over with Gilbert afterwards. She knew Nan’s worry was real and dreadful to her; and she also realized that this small daughter’s theology needed attention.
‘Darling, you’re terribly mistaken about it all. God doesn’t make bargains. He gives… gives without asking from us in return, except love. When you ask Father or me for something you want we don’t make bargains with you… and God is ever and ever so much kinder than we are. And He knows so much better than we do what is good to give.’
‘And He won’t… He won’t make you die, Mummy, because I didn’t keep my promise?’
‘Certainly not, darling.’
‘Mummy, even if I was mistooken about God… oughtn’t I to keep my bargain when I made it? I said I would, you know. Daddy says we should always keep our promises. Won’t I be disgraced for ever if I don’t?’
‘When I get quite well, dear, I’ll go with you some night… and stay outside the gate… and I don’t think you’ll be a bit afraid to go through the graveyard then. That will relieve your poor little conscience, and you won’t make any more foolish bargains with God?’
‘No,’ promised Nan, with a rather regretful feeling that she was giving up something that, with all its drawbacks, had been pleasantly exciting. But the sparkle had come back to her eyes and a bit of the old ginger to her voice.
‘I’ll go and wash my face and then I’ll come back and kiss you, Mummy. And I’ll pick you all the snack-dragons I can find. It’s been dreadful without you, Mummy.’
‘Oh, Susan,’ said Anne, when Susan brought in her supper, ‘what a world it is! What a beautiful, interesting, wonderful world! Isn’t it, Susan?’
‘I will go so far,’ admitted Susan, recalling the beautiful row of pies she had just left in the pantry, ‘as to say that it is a very tolerable world.’
29
October was a very happy month at Ingleside that year, full of days when you just had to run and sing and whistle. Mother was about again, refusing to be treated as a convalescent any longer, making garden plans, laughing again… Jem always thought Mother had such a beautiful joyous laugh… answering innumerable questions. ‘Mummy, how far is it from here to the sunset?’… ‘Mummy, why can’t we gather up the spilled moonlight?’… ‘Mummy, do the souls of dead people really come back on Hallowe’en?’… ‘Mother, what causes the cause?’… ‘Mummy, wouldn’t you rather be killed by a rattlesnake than a tiger, because the tiger would mess you up and eat you?’… ‘Mummy, what is a cubby?’… ‘Mother, is a widow really a woman whose dreams have come true?… Wally Taylor said she was’… ‘Mummy, what do little birds do when it rains hard?’… ‘Mummy, are we really a too romantic family?’
The last from Jem, who had heard in school that Mrs Alec Davies had said so. Jem did not like Mrs Alec Davies because whenever she met him with Mother or Father she invariably dabbed her long forefinger at him and demanded, ‘Is Jemmy a good boy in school?’ Jemmy! Perhaps they were a bit romantic… I’m sure Susan thought so when she discovered the boardwalk to the barn lavishly decorated with splotches of crimson paint.