Anne of Ingleside - L. M. Montgomery [98]
‘But she held her tongue, at least,’ said Sarah Taylor. ‘Philippa Abbey didn’t. When Jim Mowbray jilted her she went to his wedding and said the bitterest things out loud all through the ceremony. They were all Anglicans, of course,’ concluded Sarah Taylor, as if that accounted for any vagaries.
‘Did she really go to the reception afterwards wearing all the jewellery Jim had given her while they were engaged?’ asked Celia Reese.
‘No, she didn’t! I don’t know how such stories get around, I’m sure. You’d think some people never did anything but repeat gossip. I dare say Jim Mowbray lived to wish he’d stuck to Philippa. His wife kept him down good and solid… though he always had a riotous time in her absence.’
‘The only time I ever saw Jim Mowbray was the night the June bugs nearly stampeded the congregation at the anniversary service in Lowbridge,’ said Christine Crawford. ‘And what the June bugs left undone Jim Mowbray contributed. It was a hot night and they had all got the windows open. The June bugs poured in and blundered about in hundreds. They picked up eighty-seven dead bugs on the choir platform the next morning. Some of the women got hysterical when the bugs flew too near their faces. Just across the aisle from me the new minister’s wife was sitting… Mrs Peter Loring. She had on a big lace hat with willow plumes…’
‘She was always considered far too dressy and extravagant for a minister’s wife,’ interpolated Mrs Elder Baxter.
‘ “Watch me flick that bug off Mrs Preacher’s hat,” I heard Jim Mowbray whisper… he was sitting right behind her. He leaned forrard and aimed a blow at the bug… missed it, but side-swiped the hat and sent it skittering down the aisle clean to the communion railing. Jim almost had a conniption. When the minister saw his wife’s hat come sailing through the air he lost his place in his sermon, couldn’t find it again, and gave up in despair. The choir sang the last hymn, dabbing at June bugs all the time. Jim went down and brought the hat back to Mrs Loring. He expected a calling down, for she was said to be high-spirited. But she just stuck it on her pretty yellow head again and laughed at him. “If you hadn’t done that,” she said, “Peter would have gone on for another twenty minutes and we’d all have been stark staring mad.” Of course it was nice of her not to be angry, but people thought it wasn’t just the thing for her to say of her husband.’
‘But you must remember how she was born,’ said Martha Crothers.
‘Why, how?’
‘She was Bessy Talbot from up west. Her father’s house caught fire one night and in all the fuss and upheaval Bessy was born… out in the garden… under the stars.’
‘How romantic,’ said Myra Murray.
‘Romantic! I call it barely respectable.’
‘But think of being born under the stars,’ said Myra dreamily. ‘Why, she ought to have been a child of the stars… sparkling… beautiful… brave… true… with a twinkle in her eyes.’
‘She was all that,’ said Martha, ‘whether the stars were accountable for it or not. And a hard time she had in Lowbridge, where they thought a minister’s wife should be all prunes and prisms. Why, one of the elders caught her dancing around her baby’s cradle one day and he told her she ought not to rejoice over her son until she found out if he was elected or not.’
‘Talking of babies do you know what Mary Anna said the other day, “Ma,” she said, “do queens have babies?” ’
‘That must have been Alexander Wilson,’ said Mrs Allan. ‘A born crab if ever there was one. He wouldn’t allow his family to speak a word at meal-time, I’ve heard. As for laughing… there never was any done in his house.’
‘Think of a house without laughter!’ said Myra. ‘Why, it’s… sacrilegious.’
‘Alexander used to take spells, when he wouldn’t speak to his wife for three days at a time,’ continued Mrs Allan. ‘It was such a relief to her,’ she added.
‘Alexander Wilson was a good, honest business man at least,’ said Mrs Grant Clow stiffly. The said Alexander was her fourth cousin and the Wilsons were clannish.