Anne of Windy Poplars - L. M. Montgomery [77]
‘Is it true that Jean Young is going to be married again?’ asked Aunt Kate.
‘I’m afraid it is. Of course, Fred Young is supposed to be dead, but I’m dreadful afraid he’ll turn up yet. You could never trust that man. She’s going to marry Ira Roberts. I’m afraid he’s only marrying her to make her happy. His Uncle Philip once wanted to marry me, but I sez to him, sez I, “Bugle I was born and Bugle I will die. Marriage is a leap in the dark,” sez I, “and I ain’t going to be drug into it.” There’s been an awful lot of weddings in Lowvale this winter. I’m afraid there’ll be funerals all summer to make up for it. Annie Edwards and Chris Hunter were married last month. I’m afraid they won’t be as fond of each other in a few years’ time as they are now. I’m afraid she was just swept off her feet by his dashing ways. His Uncle Hiram was crazy. He belieft he was a dog for years.’
‘If he did his own barking nobody need have grudged him the fun of it,’ said Rebecca Dew, bringing in the pear preserves and the layer cake.
‘I never heerd that he barked,’ said Cousin Ernestine. ‘He just gnawed bones and buried them when nobody was looking. His wife felt it.’
‘Where is Mrs Lily Hunter this winter?’ asked Aunt Chatty.
‘She’s been spending it with her son in San Francisco, and I’m awful afraid there’ll be another earthquake afore she gits out of it. If she does she’ll likely try to smuggle, and have trouble at the border. If it ain’t one thing it’s another when you’re travelling. But folks seem to be crazy for it. My cousin Jim Bugle spent the winter in Florida. I’m afraid he’s getting rich and worldly. I said to him afore he went, sez I – I remember it was the night afore the Colemans’ dog died… Or was it?… Yes, it was – “Pride goeth afore destruction and a haughty spirit afore a fall,” sez I. His daughter is teaching over in the Bugle Road school, and she can’t make up her mind which of her beaux to take. “There’s one thing I can assure you of, Mary Annetta,” sez I, “and that is you’ll never git the one you love best. So you’d better take the one as loves you – if you kin be sure he does.” I hope she’ll make a better choice than Jessie Chapman did. I’m afraid she’s just going to marry Oscar Green because he was always round. “Is that what you’ve picked out?” I sez to her. His brother died of galloping consumption. “And don’t be married in May,” sez I, “for May’s awful unlucky for a wedding.”’
‘How encouraging you always are!’ said Rebecca Dew, bringing in a plate of macaroons.
‘Can you tell me,’ said Cousin Ernestine, ignoring Rebecca Dew and taking a second helping of pears, ‘if a calceolaria is a flower or a disease?’
‘A flower,’ said Aunt Chatty.
Cousin Ernestine looked a little disappointed. ‘Well, whatever it is, Sandy Bugle’s widow’s got it. I heerd her telling her sister in church last Sunday that she had a calceolaria at last. Your geraniums are dreadful scraggy, Charlotte. I’m afraid you don’t fertilize them properly. Mrs Sandy’s gone out of mourning, and poor Sandy only dead four years. Ah, well, the dead are soon forgot nowadays. My sister wore crêpe for her husband twenty-five years.’
‘Did you know your placket was open?’ said Rebecca, setting a coco-nut pie before Aunt Kate.
‘I haven’t time to be always staring at my face in the glass,’ said Cousin Ernestine acidly. ‘What if my placket is open? I’ve got three petticoats on, haven’t I? They tell me the girls nowadays only wear one. I’m afraid the world is gitting dreadful gay and giddy. I wonder if they ever think of the Judgement Day?’
‘Do you s’pose