Anne of Windy Poplars - L. M. Montgomery [89]
And another change is brewing. Aunt Kate told me, much to my sorrow, that they have decided to give Dusty Miller away as soon as they can find a suitable home for him. When I protested she said they were really driven to it for peace’ sake. Rebecca Dew has been constantly complaining about him all summer, and there seems to be no other way of satisfying her. Poor Dusty Miller, and he is such a nice prowly, purry darling!
Tomorrow being Saturday, I’m going to look after Mrs Raymond’s twins while she goes to Charlottetown to the funeral of some relative. Mrs Raymond is a widow who came to our town last winter. Rebecca Dew and the Windy Willows widows – really, Summerside is a great place for widows – think her a ‘little too grand’ for Summerside, but she was really a wonderful help to Katherine and me in our Dramatic Club activities. One good turn deserves another.
Gerald and Geraldine are eight, and are a pair of angelic-looking youngsters, but Rebecca Dew ‘pulled a mouth’, to use one of her own expressions, when I told her what I was going to do.
‘But I love children, Rebecca.’
‘Children, yes; but them’s holy terrors, Miss Shirley. Mrs Raymond doesn’t believe in punishing children no matter what they do. She says she’s determined they’ll have a “natural” life. They take people in by that saintly look of theirs, but I’ve heard what her neighbours have to say of them. The minister’s wife called one afternoon. Well, Mrs Raymond was sweet as sugar-pie to her, but when she was leaving a shower of Spanish onions came flying down the stairs, and one of them knocked her hat off. “Children always behave so abominably when you specially want them to be good,” was all Mrs Raymond said, kinder as if she was rather proud of them being so unmanageable. “They’re from the States, you know” – as if that explained everything!’
Rebecca has about as much use for ‘Yankees’ as Mrs Lynde has.
2
Saturday forenoon Anne betook herself to the pretty, old-fashioned cottage, on a street that straggled out into the country, where Mrs Raymond and her famous twins lived. Mrs Raymond was all ready to depart, rather gaily dressed for a funeral, perhaps, especially with regard to the beflowered hat perched on top of the smooth brown waves of hair that flowed round her head, but looking very beautiful. The eight-year-old twins, who had inherited her beauty, were sitting on the stairs, their delicate faces wreathed with a quite cherubic expression. They had complexions of pink and white, large china-blue eyes, and aureoles of fine, fluffy, pale yellow hair.
They smiled with engaging sweetness when their mother introduced them to Anne, and told them that dear Miss Shirley had been so kind as to come and take care of them while mother was away at dear Auntie Ella’s funeral, and of course they would be good and not give her one teeny weeny bit of trouble, wouldn’t they, darlings?
The darlings nodded gravely, and contrived, though it hadn’t seemed possible, to look more angelic than ever.
Mrs Raymond took Anne down the walk to the gate with her.
‘They’re all I’ve got – now,’ she said pathetically. ‘Perhaps I may have spoiled them a little – I know people say I have. People always know so much better how you ought to bring up your children than you know yourself, haven’t you noticed, Miss Shirley? But I think loving is better than spanking any day, don’t you, Miss Shirley? I’m sure you will have no trouble with them. Children always know whom they can play on and whom they can’t, don’t you think? That poor old Miss Prouty up the street, I had her to stay with them one day, but the poor darlings couldn’t bear her. So of course they teased her a good bit – you know what children are. She has revenged herself by telling the most ridiculous tales about them all over town. But they’ll just love you, and I know they’ll be angels. Of course, they have high spirits, but children should have, don’t you think? It’s so pitiful to see children with that cowed appearance, isn’t it? I like them to be natural, don’t you? Too