Anne of Windy Poplars - L. M. Montgomery [78]
‘I s’pose you saw old Alec Crowdy’s death last week in the paper,’ sighed Cousin Ernestine. ‘His wife died two years ago, lit’rally harried into her grave, poor creetur. They say he’s been awful lonely since she died, but I’m afraid that’s too good to be true. And I’m afraid they’re not through with their troubles with him yet even if he is buried. I hear he wouldn’t make a will, and I’m afraid there’ll be awful ructions over the estate. They say Annabel Crowdy is going to marry a jack-of-all-trades. Her mother’s first husband was one, so mebbe it’s heredit’ry. Annabel’s had a hard life of it, but I’m afraid she’ll find it’s out of the frying-pan into the fire, even if it didn’t turn out he’s got a wife already.’
‘What is Jane Goldwin doing with herself this winter?’ asked Aunt Kate. ‘She hasn’t been into town for a long time.’
‘Ah, poor Jane! She’s just pining away mysteriously. They don’t know what’s the matter with her, but I’m afraid it’ll turn out to be an alibi… What is Rebecca Dew laughing like a hyenus out in the kitchen for? I’m afraid you’ll have her on your hands yet. There’s an awful lot of weak minds among the Dews.’
‘I see Thyra Cooper has a baby,’ said Aunt Chatty.
‘Ah, yes, poor little soul! Only one, thank mercy. I was afraid it would be twins. Twins run so in the Coopers.’
‘Thyra and Ned are such a nice young couple,’ said Aunt Kate, as if determined to salvage something from the wreck of the universe.
But Cousin Ernestine would not admit that there was any balm in Gilead, much less in Lowvale.
‘Ah, she was real thankful to git him at last. There was a time she was afraid he wouldn’t come back from the West. I warned her. “You may be sure he’ll disappoint you,” I told her. “He’s always disappointed people. Everyone expected him to die afore he was a year old, but you see he’s alive yet.” When he bought the Holly place I warned her again. “I’m afraid that well is full of typhoid,” I told her. “The Holly hired man died of typhoid there five years ago.” They can’t blame me if anything happens. Joseph Holly has some misery in his back. He calls it lumbago, but I’m afraid it’s the beginning of spinal menginitis.’
‘Old Uncle Joseph Holly is one of the best men in the world,’ said Rebecca Dew, bringing in a replenished teapot.
‘Ah, he’s good,’ said Cousin Ernestine lugubriously. ‘Too good! I’m afraid his sons will all go to the bad. You see it so often. Seems as if an average has to be struck… No, thank you, Kate. I won’t have any more tea… Well, mebbe a macaroon. They don’t lie heavy on the stomach; but I’m afraid I’ve et far too much. I must be taking French leave, for I’m afraid it’ll be dark afore I git home. I don’t want to git my feet wet; I’m so afraid of ammonia. I’ve had something travelling from my arm to my lower limbs all winter. Night after night I’ve laid awake with it. Ah, nobody knows what I’ve gone through, but I ain’t one of the complaining sort. I was determined I’d git up to see you once more, for I may not be here another spring. But you’ve both failed terrible, so you may go afore me yet. Ah, well, it’s best to go while there’s someone of your own left to lay you out. Dear me, how the wind is gitting up! I’m afraid our barn roof will blow off if it comes to a gale. We’ve had so much wind this spring I’m afraid the climate is changing… Thank you, Miss Shirley’ – as Anne helped her into her coat. ‘Be careful of yourself. You look awful washed out. I’m afraid people with red hair never have real strong constitutions.’
‘I think my constitution is all right,’ smiled Anne, handing Cousin Ernestine an indescribable bit of millinery with a stringy ostrich feather dripping from its back. ‘I have a touch of sore throat tonight, Miss Bugle, that’s all.’
‘Ah!’ Another of Cousin Ernestine’s dark forebodings came to her. ‘You want to watch a sore throat. The symptoms of diphtheria