Anne of Ingleside - L. M. Montgomery [84]
But the night had to be got through somehow. They did not go to bed till late because none of the Pennys ever went to bed early. The big bedroom where Jenny took her at half-past ten had two beds in it. Annabel and Gert were getting ready for theirs. Di looked at the other. The pillows were very frowsy. The quilt needed washing very badly, the paper… the famous ‘parrot’ paper… had been leaked on and even the parrots did not look very parrotty. On the stand by the bed were a granite pitcher and a tin wash-basin half full of dirty water. She could never wash her face in that. Well, for once she must go to bed without washing her face. At least the nightgown Aunt Lina had left for her was clean.
When Di got up from saying her prayers Jenny laughed.
‘My, but you’re old-fashioned. You looked so funny and holy saying your prayers. I didn’t know anybody said prayers now. Prayers ain’t any good. What do you say them for?’
‘I’ve got to save my soul,’ said Di, quoting Susan.
‘I haven’t any soul,’ mocked Jenny.
‘Perhaps not, but I have,’ said Di, drawing herself up.
Jenny looked at her. But the spell of Jenny’s eyes was broken. Never again would Di succumb to its magic.
‘You’re not the girl I thought you were, Diana Blythe,’ said Jenny sadly, as one much deceived.
Before Di could reply George Andrew and Curt rushed into the room. George Andrew wore a mask, a hideous thing with an enormous nose. Di screamed.
‘Stop squealing like a pig under a gate,’ ordered George Andrew. ‘You’ve got to kiss us good night.’
‘If you don’t we’ll lock you up in that closet… and it’s full of rats,’ said Curt.
George Andrew advanced towards Di, who shrieked again and retreated before him. The mask paralysed her with terror. She knew quite well it was only George Andrew behind it and she was not afraid of him; but she would die if that awful mask came near her… she knew she would. Just as it seemed that the dreadful nose was touching her face she tripped over a stool and fell backward on the floor, striking her head on the sharp edge of Annabel’s bed as she fell. For a moment she was dazed and lay with her eyes shut.
‘She’s gone dead… she’s gone dead,’ sniffled Gert, beginning to cry.
‘Oh, won’t you get a licking if you’ve killed her, George Andrew!’ said Annabel.
‘Maybe she’s only pretending,’ said Curt. ‘Put a worm on her. I’ve some in this can. If she’s only foxing that will bring her to.’
Di heard this, but was too frightened to open her eyes. (Perhaps they would go away and leave her alone if they thought her dead. But if they put a worm on her…)
‘Prick her with a pin. If she bleeds she ain’t dead,’ said Gert. (She could stand a pin but not a worm.)
‘She ain’t dead… she can’t be dead,’ whimpered Jenny. ‘You’ve just scared her into a fit. But if she comes to she’ll be screeching all over the place, and Uncle Ben’ll come in and lambast the daylights out of us. I wish I’d never asked her here, the fraid-cat!’
‘Do you s’pose we could carry her home before she comes to?’ suggested George Andrew.
(Oh, if they only would!)
‘We couldn’t… not that far,’ said Jenny.
‘It’s only a quarter of a mile ’cross lots. We’ll each take an arm or a leg, you and Curt and me and Annabel.’
Nobody but the Pennys could have conceived such an idea or carried it out if they had. But they were used to doing anything they took it into their heads to do, and a ‘lambasting’ from the head of the household was something to be avoided if possible. Dad didn’t bother about them up to a certain point, but beyond that… good-night!
‘If she comes to while we’re carrying her we’ll just cut and run,’ said George Andrew.
There wasn’t the least danger of Di coming to. She trembled with thankfulness when she felt herself being hoisted up between the four of them. They crept downstairs and out of the house, across the yard and over the long clover field… past the woods… down the hill. Twice they had to lay her down while they rested. They were quite sure now she was dead and all they wanted was to get her home without being