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Anne of Windy Poplars - L. M. Montgomery [30]

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for Esme. But when Father has one of his spells on nothing has any influence over him while it lasts. That’s the Pringle for you, Anne. Grandmother Taylor was a Pringle, you know. You just can’t imagine what we’ve gone through as a family. He never goes into rages, you know, like Uncle George. Uncle George’s family don’t mind his rages. When he goes into a temper he blows off; you can hear him roaring three blocks away. And then he’s like a lamb, and brings everybody a new dress for a peace-offering. But Father just sulks and glowers, and won’t say a word to anybody at mealtimes. Esme says that, after all, that’s better than Cousin Richard Taylor, who is always saying sarcastic things at the table and insulting his wife; but it seems to me nothing could be worse than those awful silences of Papa’s. They rattle us, and we’re terrified to open our mouths. It wouldn’t be so bad, of course, if it was only when we are alone. But it’s just as apt to be when we have company. Esme and I are simply tired of trying to explain away Papa’s insulting silences. She’s just sick with fear that he won’t have got over the nightshirt before tomorrow night – and what will Lennox think? And she wants you to wear your blue dress. Her new dress is blue, because Lennox likes blue. But Papa hates it. Yours may reconcile him to hers.’

‘Wouldn’t it be better for her to wear something else?’

‘She hasn’t anything else fit to wear at a company dinner except the green poplin Father gave her at Christmas. It’s a lovely dress in itself – Father likes us to have pretty dresses – but you can’t think of anything so awful as Esme in green. Pringle says it makes her look as if she was in the last stages of consumption. And Lennox Carter’s cousin told Esme he would never marry a delicate person. I’m more than glad Johnny isn’t so fastidious.’

‘Have you told your father about your engagement to Johnny yet?’ asked Anne, who knew all about Trix’s love-affair.

‘No,’ poor Trix groaned. ‘I can’t summon up the courage, Anne. I know he’ll make a frightful scene. Papa has always been so down on Johnny, because he’s poor. Papa forgets that he was poorer than Johnny when he started out in the hardware business. Of course, he’ll have to be told soon, but I want to wait until Esme’s affair is settled. I know Papa won’t speak to any of us for weeks after I tell him, and Mamma will worry so; she can’t bear Father’s sulky fits. We’re all such cowards before Papa. Of course, Mamma and Esme are naturally timid with everyone, but Pringle and I have lots of ginger. It’s only Papa who can cow us. Sometimes I think if we had anyone to back us up – But we haven’t, and we just feel paralysed. You can’t imagine, Anne darling, what a company dinner is like at our place when Papa is sulking. But if he only behaves tomorrow night I’ll forgive him for everything. He can be very agreeable when he wants to be. Papa is really just like Longfellow’s little girl: when he’s good he’s very very good, and when he’s bad he’s horrid. I’ve seen him the life of the party.’

‘He was very nice the night I had dinner with you last month.’

‘Oh, he likes you, as I’ve said. That’s one of the reasons why we want you so much. It may have a good influence on him. We’re not neglecting anything that may please him. But when he has a really bad fit of sulks on he seems to hate everything and everybody. Anyhow, we’ve got a bang-up dinner planned, with an elegant orange custard dessert. Mamma wanted pie, because she says every man in the world but Papa likes pie for dessert better than anything else – even Professors of Modern Languages. But Papa doesn’t, so it would never do to take a chance on it tomorrow night, when so much depends on it. Orange custard is Papa’s favourite dessert. As for poor Johnny and me, I suppose I’ll just have to elope with him some day, and Papa will never forgive me.’

‘I believe if you’d just get up enough spunk to tell him and endure his resulting sulks you’d find he’d come round to it beautifully, and you’d be saved months of anguish.’

‘You don’t know Papa,’ said Trix darkly.

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