Anne of Ingleside - L. M. Montgomery [87]
‘She wouldn’t. I know lots of things I’ve never told Susan. Secrets. I’ll tell mine to you if you’ll tell me yours.’
‘Oh, I’m not int’rested in the secrets of a little girl like you,’ said Dovie.
A nice insult that! Nan thought her little secrets were lovely… that one wild cherry-tree she had found blooming in the spruce wood away back behind Mr Taylor’s hay-barn… her dream of a tiny white fairy lying on a lily-pad in the marsh… her fancy of a boat coming up the harbour drawn by swans attached to silver chains… the romance she was beginning to weave about the beautiful lady at the old MacAllister place. They were all very wonderful and magical to Nan and she felt glad, when she thought it over, that she did not have to tell them to Dovie after all.
But what did Dovie know about her that she didn’t know? The query haunted Nan like a mosquito.
The next day Dovie again referred to her secret knowledge.
‘I’ve been thinking it over, Nan, perhaps you ought to know it since it’s about you. Of course, what Aunt Kate meant was that I mustn’t tell anyone but the person concerned. Look here. If you’ll give me that china stag of yours I’ll tell you now what I know about you.’
‘Oh, I couldn’t give you that, Dovie. Susan gave it to me my last birthday. It would hurt her feelings dreadfully.’
‘All right then. If you’d rather have your old stag than know an important thing about yourself you can keep him. I don’t care. I’d rather keep it. I always like to know things other girls don’t. It makes you important. I’ll look at you next Sunday in church and I’ll think to myself, “If you just knew what I know about you, Nan Blythe.” It’ll be fun.’
‘Is what you know about me nice?’ queried Nan.
‘Oh, it’s very romantic… just like something you’d read in a story book. But never mind. You ain’t interested and I know what I know.’
By this time Nan was crazy with curiosity. Life wouldn’t be worth living if she couldn’t find out what Dovie’s mysterious knowledge was. She had a sudden inspiration.
‘Dovie, I can’t give you my stag, but if you’ll tell me what you know about me I’ll give you my red parasol.’
Dovie’s gooseberry eyes gleamed. She had been eaten up by envy of that parasol.
‘The new red parasol your mother brought you from town last week?’ she bargained.
Nan nodded. Her breath came quickly. Was it… Oh, was it possible that Dovie would really tell her?
‘Will your mother let you?’ demanded Dovie.
Nan nodded again, but a little uncertainly. She was none too sure of it. Dovie scented the uncertainty.
‘You’ll have to have that parasol right here,’ she said firmly, ‘before I can tell you. No parasol, no secret.’
‘I’ll bring it tomorrow,’ promised Nan hastily. She just had to know what Dovie knew about her, that was all there was to it.
‘Well, I’ll think it over,’ said Dovie doubtfully. ‘Don’t get your hopes up. I don’t expect I’ll tell you after all. You’re too young… I’ve told you so often enough.’
‘I’m older than I was yesterday,’ pleaded Nan. ‘Oh, come, Dovie, don’t be mean.’
‘I guess I’ve got a right to my own knowledge,’ said Dovie crushingly. ‘You’d tell Anne… that’s your mother…’
‘Of course I know my own mother’s name,’ said Nan, a trifle on her dignity. Secrets or no secrets, there were limits. ‘I told you I wouldn’t tell anybody at Ingleside.’
‘Will you swear it?’
‘Swear it!’
‘Don’t be a poll parrot. Of course I mean just promising solemnly.’
‘I promise solemnly.’
‘Solemner than that.’
Nan didn’t see how she could be any solemner. Her face would set if she was.
‘Clasp your hands, look at the sky,
Cross your heart and hope to die,’
said Dovie.
Nan went through the ritual.
‘You’ll bring the parasol tomorrow and we’ll see,’ said Dovie.
‘What did your mother do before she was married, Nan?’
‘She taught school… and taught it well,’ said Nan.
‘Well, I was just wondering. Mother thinks it was a mistake for your Dad to marry her. Nobody knew anything about her family. And the girls he might have had, Mother says. I must be going now. O revor.’
Nan knew that meant ‘till tomorrow’. She was very proud of