Anne of Windy Poplars - L. M. Montgomery [46]
‘I knew it,’ said Mrs Gibson cryptically.
‘You know she can’t come till Mr Gregor comes, and he’s generally the last dog hung,’ soothed Anne. ‘Won’t you let me put you to bed, Mrs Gibson? You’re tired. I know it’s a bit of a strain having a stranger round instead of someone you’re accustomed to.’
The little puckery lines about Mrs Gibson’s mouth deepened obstinately. ‘I’m not going to bed till that girl comes home. But if you’re so anxious to be gone, go. I can stay alone – or die alone.’
At half-past nine Mrs Gibson decided that Jim Gregor was not coming home till Monday.
‘Nobody could ever depend on Jim Gregor to stay in the same mind twenty-four hours. And he thinks it’s wrong to travel on Sunday even to come home. He’s on your school Board, ain’t he? What do you really think of him and his opinions on eddication?’
Anne went wicked. After all, she had endured a good deal at Mrs Gibson’s hands that day.
‘I think he’s a psychological anachronism,’ she answered gravely.
Mrs Gibson did not bat an eyelash. ‘I agree with you,’ she said. But she pretended to go to sleep after that.
15
It was ten o’clock when Pauline came at last – a flushed, starry-eyed Pauline, looking ten years younger, in spite of the resumed taffeta and the old hat, and carrying a beautiful bouquet which she hurriedly presented to the grim lady in the wheelchair.
‘The bride sent you her bouquet, Ma. Isn’t it lovely? Twenty-five white roses.’
‘Cat’s hind-foot! I don’t s’pose anyone thought of sending me a crumb of wedding-cake. People nowadays don’t seem to have any family feeling. Ah, well, I’ve seen the day –’
‘But they did. I’ve a great big piece here in my bag. And everybody asked about you, and sent you their love, Ma.’
‘Did you have a nice time?’ asked Anne.
Pauline sat down on a hard chair, because she knew her mother would resent it if she sat on a soft one.
‘Very nice,’ she said cautiously. ‘We had a lovely wedding dinner, and Mr Freeman, the Gull Cove minister, married Louisa and Maurice over again –’
‘I call that sacrilegious.’
‘– and then the photographer took all our pictures. The flowers were simply wonderful. The parlour was a bower –’
‘Like a funeral, I s’pose.’
‘– and, oh, Ma, Mary Luckley was there from the West – Mrs Flemming, you know. You remember what friends she and I always were. We used to call each other Polly and Molly.’
‘Very silly names.’
‘And it was so nice to see her again, and have a long talk over old times. Her sister Em was there too, with such a delicious baby.’
‘You talk as if it was something to eat,’ grunted Mrs Gibson. ‘Babies are common enough.’
‘Oh, no, babies are never common,’ said Anne, bringing a bowl of water for Mrs Gibson’s roses. ‘Every one is a miracle.’
‘Well, I had ten, and I never saw much that was miraculous about any of them. Pauline, do sit still if you kin. You fidget me. I notice you ain’t asking how I got along. But I s’pose I couldn’t expect it.’
‘I can tell how you got along without asking, Ma. You look so bright and cheerful.’ Pauline was still so uplifted by the day that she could be a little arch even with her mother. ‘I’m sure you and Miss Shirley had a nice time, together.’
‘We got on well enough. I just let her have her own way. I admit it’s the first time in years I’ve heard some interesting conversation. I ain’t so near the grave as some people would like to make out. Thank heaven, I’ve never got deaf or childish. Well, I s’pose the next thing you’ll be off to the moon. And I s’pose they didn’t care for my sarsaparilla wine, by any chance?’
‘Oh, they did! They thought it delicious.’
‘You’ve taken your own time telling me that. Did you bring back the bottle – or would it be too much to expect you’d remember that?’
‘The – the bottle got broke,’ faltered Pauline. ‘Someone knocked it over in the pantry. But Louisa gave me another just exactly the same, Ma, so you needn’t worry.’
‘I’ve had that bottle ever since I started housekeeping. Louisa’s can’t be exactly the same. They don’t make such bottles nowadays. I wish you’d bring me another shawl. I’m sneezing.