Anne of Windy Poplars - L. M. Montgomery [113]
All at once a man came through the door. Elizabeth felt a moment of dismay and terror. Was he a gipsy? He didn’t look like her idea of a gipsy, but, of course, she had never seen one. He might be one. And then in a swift flash of intuition Elizabeth decided she didn’t care if he did kidnap her. She liked him. She liked his crinkly hazel eyes and his crinkly brown hair and his square chin and his smile. For he was smiling.
‘Now who are you?’ he asked.
‘I’m – I’m me,’ faltered Elizabeth, still a little flustered.
‘Oh, to be sure – you popped out of the sea, I suppose. Come up from the dunes. No name known among mortals.’
Elizabeth felt that she was being made fun of a little. But she didn’t mind. In fact, she rather liked it. But she answered a bit primly, ‘My name is Elizabeth Grayson.’
There was a silence, a very queer silence. The man looked at her for a moment without saying anything. Then he politely asked her to sit down.
‘I’m waiting for Miss Shirley,’ she explained. ‘She’s gone to see Mrs Thompson about the Ladies’ Aid supper. When she comes back we are going down to the end of the world.’
Now, if you have any notion of kidnapping me, Mr Man…!
‘Of course. But meanwhile you might as well be comfortable, and I must do the honours. What would you like in the way of light refreshment? Mrs Thompson’s cat has probably brought something in.’
Elizabeth sat down. She felt oddly happy and at home. ‘Can I have just what I like?’
‘Certainly.’
‘Then,’ said Elizabeth triumphantly, ‘I’d like some ice-cream with strawberry jam on it.’
The man rang a bell and gave an order. Yes, this must be Tomorrow, no doubt about it. Ice-cream and strawberry jam didn’t appear in this magical manner in Today, cats or no cats!
‘We’ll set a share aside for your Miss Shirley,’ said the man.
They were good friends right away. The man didn’t talk a great deal, but he looked at Elizabeth very often. There was a tenderness in his face, a tenderness she had never seen before in anybody’s face, not even Miss Shirley’s. She felt that he liked her. And she knew that she liked him.
Finally he glanced out of the window and stood up.
‘I think I must go now,’ he said. ‘I see your Miss Shirley coming up the walk, so you’ll not be alone.’
‘Won’t you wait and see Miss Shirley?’ asked Elizabeth, licking her spoon to get the last vestige of the jam. Grandmother and the Woman would have died of horror had they seen her.
‘Not this time,’ said the man.
Elizabeth knew he hadn’t the slightest notion of kidnapping her, and she felt the strangest, most unaccountable sensation of disappointment.
‘Good-bye and thank you,’ she said politely. ‘It is very nice here in Tomorrow.
‘Tomorrow?’
‘This is Tomorrow,’ explained Elizabeth. ‘I’ve always wanted to get into Tomorrow, and now I have.’
‘Oh, I see. Well, I’m sorry to say I don’t care much about Tomorrow. I would like to get back into Yesterday.’
Little Elizabeth was sorry for him. But how could he be unhappy? How could anyone living in Tomorrow be unhappy?
Elizabeth looked longingly back at Flying Cloud as they rowed away. Just as they pushed through the scrub spruces that fringed the shore to the road she turned for another farewell look at it. A flying team of horses attached to a truck wagon whirled round the bend, evidently quite beyond their driver’s control.
Elizabeth heard Miss Shirley shriek…
13
The room went round oddly. The furniture nodded and jigged. The bed – how came she to be in bed? Somebody with a white cap on was just going out of the door. What door? How funny one’s head felt! There were voices somewhere – low voices. She could not see who was talking, but somehow she knew it was Miss Shirley and the man.
What were they saying? Elizabeth heard sentences here and there, bobbing out of a confusion of murmuring.
‘Are you really?’ Miss Shirley’s voice sounded so excited.
‘Yes… Your letter… see for yourself… before approaching Mrs Campbell