Anne of Windy Poplars - L. M. Montgomery [40]
Sometimes we watch the ships coming up the harbour before a fair wind, over a glistening pathway, through the transparent spring air, and Elizabeth wonders if her father may be on board one of them. She clings to the hope that he may come some day. I can’t imagine why he doesn’t. I’m sure he would if he knew what a darling little daughter he has here longing for him. I suppose he never realizes she is quite a girl now. I suppose he still thinks of her as the little baby who cost his wife her life.
I’ll soon have finished my first year in Summerside High. The first term was a nightmare, but the last two have been very pleasant. The Pringles are delightful people. How could I ever have compared them to the Pyes? Sid Pringle brought me a bunch of trilliums today. Jen is going to lead her class, and Miss Ellen is reported to have said that I am the only teacher who ever really understood the child! The only fly in my ointment is Katherine Brooke, who continues unfriendly and distant. I’m going to give up trying to be friends with her. After all, as Rebecca Dew says, there are limits.
Oh, I nearly forgot to tell you. Sally Nelson has asked me to be one of her bridesmaids. She is going to be married the last of June at Bonnyview, Dr Nelson’s summer home down at the jumping-off place. She is marrying Gordon Hill. Then Nora Nelson will be the only one of Dr Nelson’s six girls left unmarried. Jim Wilcox has been going with her for years, ‘off and on’, as Rebecca Dew says, but it never seems to come to anything, and nobody thinks it will now. I’m very fond of Sally, but I’ve never made much headway getting acquainted with Nora. She’s a good deal older than I am, of course, and rather reserved and proud. Yet I’d like to be friends with her. She isn’t pretty or clever or charming, but somehow she’s got a tang. I’ve a feeling she’d be worth while.
Speaking of weddings, Esme Taylor was married to her Ph.D. last month. As it was on Wednesday afternoon I couldn’t go to the church to see her, but everyone says she looked very beautiful and happy, and Lennox looked as if he knew he had done the right thing and had the approval of his conscience. Cyrus Taylor and I are great friends. He often refers to the dinner, which he has come to consider a great joke on everybody. ‘I’ve never dared sulk since,’ he told me. ‘Momma might accuse me of sewing patchwork next time.’ And then he tells me to be sure and give his love to ‘the widows’. Gilbert, people are delicious, and life is delicious, and I am
For evermore
Yours!
P.S. Our old red cow down at Mr Hamilton’s has a spotted calf. We’ve been buying our milk for three months from Lew Hunt. Rebecca says we’ll have cream again now, and that she had always heard the Hunt well was inexhaustible, and now she believes it. Rebecca didn’t want that calf to be born at all. Aunt Kate had to get Mr Hamilton to tell her that the cow was really too old to have a calf before she would consent.
13
‘Ah, when you’ve been old and bed-rid as long as me you’ll have more sympathy,’ whined Mrs Gibson.
‘Please don’t think I’m lacking in sympathy, Mrs Gibson,’ said Anne, who, after half an hour’s vain effort, felt like wringing Mrs Gibson’s neck. Nothing but poor Pauline’s pleading eyes in the background kept her from giving up in despair and going home. ‘I assure you you won’t be lonely and neglected. I will be here all day and see that you lack nothing in any way.’
‘Oh, I know I’m of no use to anyone,’ said Mrs Gibson, apropos of nothing that had been said. ‘You don’t need to rub that in, Miss Shirley. I’m ready to go any time – any time. Pauline can gad round all she wants to then. I won’t be here to feel neglected. None of the young people of today have any sense. Giddy – very giddy.’
Anne didn’t know whether it was Pauline or herself who was the giddy young person without sense, but she tried the last shot in her locker.
‘Well, you know, Mrs Gibson, people will talk