Mistress Pat

by L. M. Montgomery

  “I’m fearing it is,” acknowledged Judy. “It’s a way thim pools has. There was one below Swallyfield whin I was here first…and now it’s nothing but a grane dimple wid some ferns and bracken in it.”

  “I don’t know how I’ll bear it if it dries up. I’ve always loved it so.”

  “What don’t ye be loving around the ould place, Patsy dear?”

  “The more things and people you love the more happiness you get, Judy.”

  “Oh, oh, and the more sorrow too. Now, whativer made me go and say that! It jist slipped out.”

  “It’s true, I suppose,” said Pat thoughtfully. “It’s the price you pay for loving, I guess. If I hadn’t loved Bets so much it wouldn’t have hurt me so terribly when she died. But it was worth the hurt, Judy.”

  “It always do be,” said Judy gently. “So niver ye be minding me silly talk av the sorrow.”

  “Well, how about the black chest, Judy?”

  “Cuddles wants us to be waiting till she can come. She said she wudn’t be long…she had a bit av Lating to look over. She do be getting int’rested in her books at last. Joe did be giving her a bit av advice now and thin.”

  “I hope we’ll be able to afford to give her a real good education, Judy. We never do seem to have much money, I admit.”

  “Too hospitable, I’m supposing some do be thinking. Mrs. Binnie says we throw out more wid a spoon than the min can bring in wid a shovel…Binnie-like. Our min like the good living. And what if we don’t be having too much money, Patsy dear? Sure and we have lashings av things no money cud be buying. There’ll be enough squazed out for Cuddles whin the time comes, niver fear. The Good Man Above will be seeing to that.”

  The drone of the separator came up from the yard below where Tillytuck was operating under the big maple over the well and singing a Psalm sonorously, with McGinty and some cats for an audience. It struck Pat that Tillytuck had a remarkably good voice. And he was setting the saucer for the fairies, just as Judy always did.

  “I used to think the fairies really came and drank it. I wish I could believe things like that now, Judy.”

  “It do be fun belaving things. I often wonder, Patsy dear, at all the skiptics do be losing. As for the saucer av milk, the dog McGinty gets it now mostly. Look at him sitting there and thumping his bit av a tail ivery time Tillytuck gets to the end av a verse. He may not be having inny great ear for music but he do be knowing how to get round Tillytuck.”

  “Judy, I’m almost sure dear little dogs like McGinty must have souls.”

  “A liddle bit av one mebbe,” said Judy cautiously. “I niver cud hould wid the verse ‘widout are dogs,’ Patsy dear, though niver be telling the minister or Tillytuck I said it. Whiniver I see the dog McGinty I think av Jingle. Wasn’t it a letter from him ye got to-day? And is there inny word av him coming home this summer?”

  “No,” Pat sighed. She had been hoping Hilary would come. “He has to work in vacation, Judy.”

  “I s’pose his mother doesn’t be thinking inny more about him than she iver did?”

  “I don’t know. He never mentions her name now. Of course she is quite willing to send him all the money he needs…but he’s terribly independent, Judy. He is determined to earn all he can for himself. And as for coming home…well, you know, since his uncle died and his aunt went to town he really has no home to come back to. Of course I’ve told him a dozen times he is to look upon Silver Bush as home. Do you remember how I used to set a light in this very window when I wanted him to come over?”

  “And he niver failed to come, did he, Patsy? I’m almost belaving if ye set a light in this windy tonight he’d see it and come. Patsy dear,”…Judy’s voice grew wheedling and confidential…“do ye iver be thinking a bit about Jingle…ye know.”

  Pat laughed, her amber eyes full of roguish mirth.

  “Judy darling, you’ve always had great hopes of making a match between Hilary and me but they’re doomed to disappointment. Hilary and I are chums but we’ll never be anything else. We’re too good chums to be anything else.”

  “Ye seem so set on turning ivery one else down,” sighed Judy. “And I always did be liking Jingle. It’s not a bad thing to be chums wid yer husband, I’m tould.”

  “Why are you so set on my having a ‘real’ beau, Judy? Any one would think you wanted to get rid of me.”

  “It’s better ye’re knowing than that, me jewel. Whin ye lave Silver Bush the light av ould Judy Plum’s eyes will go wid ye.”

  “Then just be glad I mean to stay, Judy. I never want to leave Silver Bush…I want to stay here always and grow old with my cats and dogs. I love the very walls of it. Look, Judy, the Virginia creeper has got to the roof. It’s lucky we have so many vines here, for the house does need painting terribly and dad says he can’t afford it this year.”

  “Yer Uncle Tom is painting Swallyfield…white, wid grane trimmings, it’s to be. He started today.”

  “Yes.” A shadow fell over Pat’s face. Everyone in North Glen knew by this time that Tom Gardiner was writing to a lady in California, though not even the keenest of the gossips had found out anything more, not even her name. “Swallowfield really needs painting but it has needed it for years. And now Uncle Tom seems to have a mania for sprucing things up. He’s even going to have that dear old red door stained and grained. I’ve always loved that red door so much. Judy, you don’t think there is anything in that story of his going to be married, do you?”

  “I wudn’t be saying. And me fine Aunt Edith wudn’t be liking it,” said Judy in a tone which indicated that for her, at least, there would be balm in Gilead if Tom Gardiner really up and married at last. “There do be another story round, Patsy, that Joe do be ingaged to Enid Sutton. Is there inny truth in it?”

  “I can’t say. He saw a good deal of her when he was home. Well, she is a very nice girl and will suit Joe very well.”

  Pat felt herself very magnanimous in thus according approval to Joe’s reputed choice. If it had been Sid…Pat shivered a little. But Sid wouldn’t be thinking of marrying for years yet.

  “Oh, oh, if it iver comes to a widding I hope Enid will be having better luck wid her dress than her mother had. There was a dressmaker in town making it…the Suttons houlding thimsilves a bit above the Silverbridge dressmaker…and she was sick, but she sint word she’d have the dress ready for the widding day widout fail. Whin the morning come, she did be phoning up she had sint it be the train but whin the train come in niver a widding dress was on it. And, what’s more, that dress niver turned up…niver, Patsy dear. The poor liddle bride was married in a blue serge suit and tears.”

  “Whatever became of the dress, Judy?’

  “The Good Man Above knows and Him only. It was shipped be the ixpress agent at Charlottetown and that was the last iver seen or heard av it. White sating and lace! But at that I do be thinking she was luckier than the bride at Castle McDermott.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “Oh, oh, it was a hundred years afore me time there but the story was tould me. She wint to the wardrobe and put her hand in to fetch out her widding dress and…” Judy leaned forward dramatically in the gathering gloom…“and it was grasped by a bony hand!”

  “Whose?” Pat shivered deliciously.

  “Oh, oh, whose? That did be the question, Patsy dear. No good Christian, I’m telling ye. The poor bride fainted and the widding had to be put off and the groom was killed on the way home, being thrown from his horse. Minny’s the time I did be seeing the wardrobe whin I was working there but niver wud the McDermotts allow that door to be opened agin. The story wint that the widding dress was still hanging there. Oh, oh!” Judy sighed. “I belave I’ll have to be paying a visit to ould Ireland this fall. I do be having a hankering for it I haven’t had for years.”

  Cuddles came running up the stairs, preceded by Bold-and-Bad who covered three steps at
a leap.

  “Oh, I hope I’m in time. I’ve finished that Latin. No wonder Latin died. Did people ever really talk that stuff? Talk it just as you and I do? I can’t believe it. Joe made me promise I’d lead my class in it and if I did he’d tattoo my arm next time he came no matter what fuss you made. So I’m going to do it or bust.”

  “The young ladies av Castle McDermott niver did be talking av busting,” said Judy reproachfully.

  “Oh, I suppose they talked a brogue you could cut with a knife,” retorted Cuddles. “Well, let’s get at the old chest. It’s such fun to rummage through old boxes. You never know what you may come across. It’s like living for a while in yesterday.”

  CHAPTER 10

  They dragged the old black chest out of its corner to the window. Bold-and-Bad, deciding that it was not a thing likely to do a cat any good, crept off into the darkness under the eaves and imagined himself a Bengal tiger. The black chest was full of the usual miscellany of old garret chests. Ancient lace and velvet and flower-trimmed hats, bundles of banished Christmas cards, limp ostrich feathers, faded family photographs, strings of birds’ eggs, discarded dresses with the pointed basques and polonaises and puffed sleeves of other vintages, old school-books, maps the Silver Bush children had drawn, packets of yellow letters, a “rat” worn in the days of pompadours, old faded things once beautiful. They had oceans of fun over them.

  “What on earth is this?” demanded Cuddles, holding up an indescribable mass of crushed wire. Judy gave a snort of laughter.

  “Oh, oh, that do be yer Aunt Helen’s ould bustle. I rimimber how yer dad yelled whin she brought it home. It’s the dashing lady she was and always the first in the clan to be out in a new fashion. She wint to a concert that night at the Bridge wid her beau and they say he was crimson to the ears, he was that ashamed av it. But in a few wakes’ time iverybody did be wearing thim. He shud have been thankful she didn’t wear it like Maggie Jimson at the South Glin did whin her sister as was working up in Bosting sint her one home…a rale fancy one all covered wid blue sating.”

  “How did she wear it, Judy?”

  “Outside her dress,” said Judy solemnly. “They say the folks who were in church that day were niver the same agin. Oh, oh, but the fashions do be changing always. Only kissing stays in. Mebbe this ould bustle will be took down some av these days and displayed on the parlor mantel-piece be way av an heirloom.”

  “Look at this!” Cuddles held up a huge brown velvet hat with a draggled and enormous shaded-green ostrich feather on it. “Fancy living up to a hat like that!”

  “Oh, oh, that was yer Aunt Hazel’s hat wid what they called a willow plume and rale nice it did be looking over her pompydore. Though I niver fancied velvet hats mesilf iver since the mouse jumped out av Mrs. Reuben Russell’s one Sunday at the Bridge church. That was a tommyshaw.”

  “If Tillytuck was here he’d say he was the mouse,” giggled Cuddles.

  Pat pounced on an article.

  “Judy, if here isn’t my old little cheese hoop! I’ve often wondered where it disappeared to. I wanted to keep it always in remembrance of those dear little cheeses you used to make me in it…one for myself every year. You don’t remember Judy making cheese, Cuddles, but I do. It was such fun.”

  “And here do be one av yer Great-grandmother Gardiner’s ruffled caps,” said Judy. “Minny’s the time I’ve done it up for her…she always said that nobody cud be giving the frills the right quirk like young Judy. Oh, oh, I was young Judy thin and I’d larned the trick at Castle McDermott. Ould lady Gardiner always made her caps hersilf…it’s the beautiful himstitcher she was. She was a rale fine ould lady, if some folks did be thinking her a bit too uppity. Did I iver be telling ye av the night she was knaling be her bed be an open windy, saying her prayers and her thoughts in hiven…I’m s’posing…and a big cat crawled through the windy and lit on her back suddent-like wid a pair av claws that tuk hold?”

  “Oh!” Cuddles shrieked in delight. “What did Great-grand say?”

  “Say, is it?” Judy looked cautiously around. “It was thirty-nine years ago and I’ve niver told a living soul afore. She said a word beginning wid D and inding wid N.”

  Pat doubled up with laughter. Stately old Great-grandmother Gardiner whose picture hung in the Big Parlor with her white cap encircling her saintly face! Really, the things Judy knew about respectable people were dreadful.

  “This ould rag was a dress yer grandmother wore in her day.” Judy held up a faded affair with manifold flounces. “Striped silk jist like ribbing grass. Mebbe it’s the very one…I’m not saying it is but it might be…she wore jist the twicet.”

  “Why didn’t she wear it again?” asked Cuddles.

  “Oh, oh, if it’s the one…mind ye. I’m not saying it is…yer grandmother and her cousin, Mrs. Tom Taylor, were great rivals, it did be said, in the matter av dresses and both av thim fond av gay colors. And whin yer grandmother come to church quite gorgeous-like in her striped dress Mrs. Tom turned quite grane and said nothing but wint to town nixt day and bought a dress av the same piece and give it to her ould scrubwoman at the Bridge. The poor ould soul was pleased as Punch and got it made up at oncet and wore it to church the nixt Sunday. Oh, oh, ’twas rale cruel av Mrs. Tom and there was a judgmint on her, for her own father died and she did have to be wearing black for two years. It was rale bitter, for black didn’t set her. But niver wud yer grandmother put the striped dress on her back agin.”

  “How foolish of her,” said Cuddles loftily.

  “Oh, oh, it’s the foolish folks as does all the int’risting things,” chuckled Judy. “There’d not be minny stories to tell if ivery one was wise. And if here isn’t Siddy’s ould Teddy bear! Niver a night wud he go to slape widout it. It’s mesilf sewed thim shoe-buttons in for eyes whin Ned Binnie picked the first ones out and poor Siddy’s liddle heart was broken.”

  “They’re saying in school Sid has a case on Jenny Madison,” said Cuddles.

  “Sid has a new ‘case’ every two months,” said Pat lightly. “What a pretty dress this must have been in its time, Judy…a sort of silvery stuff with lace frills in the sleeves.”

  “Silvery, is it? If ye cud see it as I see it! That was a dress yer Aunt Lorraine had for her first liddle party the summer I come here. Ye niver cud imagine innything bluer than her eyes. I can see her dancing in the orchard be moonlight yet to show it off to us afore she wint. She’s been churchyard dust for forty years. Her first liddle party was her last. Ye’ll rimimber her tombstone av white marble wid a baby’s head and wings sticking out behint its ears. Sure I niver thought it suitable for a girl’s tombstone but I’ve been tould it wasn’t a baby but a cherub, whativer that may be. I’m not forgetting the day I took Siddy through the South Glin churchyard whin he was six. He did be looking at the cherub and thin at me. ‘Where is the rist av it, Judy?’ he sez, solemn like.”

  “Are these her letters?” asked Cuddles, holding up a yellowed packet.

  “I’m thinking those are yer Great-aunt Martha’s. She did be dying young, too, but she had a beau as was a great letter-writer. Her father didn’t hould wid him and some say Martha died av a broken heart and some from wearing too thin stockings in the winter time. Ye can be taking the romantic or the sinsible explanation, whichiver’s suiting ye bist.”

  “Why didn’t her father approve of her beau?”

  “I’m not thinking he had much agin the young man himself but he was after having an uncle who was hanged for taking part in some rebellion and cut down and recovered. He niver talked agin. Some said his throat had been injured…but there was some as thought he’d seen something as scared him out av talking foriver. Anyhow, her father wasn’t wanting inny half-hanged person in his fam’ly.”

  “Now, here’s something!” exclaimed Pat, fishing up a silver ‘chain’ bracelet. “It’s a bit black but it could be cleaned.”

  “The padlo
ck and kay’s missing, Patsy dear, so it wudn’t be much use. That was yer Aunt Hazel’s, too. They did be all the rage thin. I had a hankering after one mesilf but whin I heard the story av Sissy Morgan’s chain bracelet up at the Bay Shore it tuk the fascination out av thim for me.”

  “What was that?”

  “Oh, oh, her beau was a capting and afore he wint on the v’yage that proved his last he locked a chain bracelet on her arm…a gold one it was, no less…and tuk the kay wid him, making her promise she’d niver marry inny one ilse unless he come back and unlocked the bracelet. Sissy promised light enough. The Morgans wud promise innything. But she was pretty, that Sissy, and the capting was crazy about her. He was swept over-board in a storm and the kay wint to the bottom av the Atlantic wid him. Liddle Sissy tuk on a bit but the Morgans soon get over things and in a year she did be wanting rale bad to marry Peter Snowe. But she was scared to bekase av her promise about the bracelet. Her dad wanted the match bekase Peter was rale well to do but Sissy stuck to it she dassn’t and siveral tommyshaws they had over it all. Oh, oh, but there was the funny squeal to it.”

  “What was the sequel?”

  “Oh, oh, sequel, is it? Well, Sissy was slaping sound in her bed one moonlight night and whin she woke the bracelet was unlocked…just that. She didn’t be seeing nothing or nobody but it was unlocked.”

  “I don’t think that is funny, Judy,” said Cuddles with a little shiver. “That was…horrible.”

  “Oh, oh! Sure and it was funny thin whin Peter Snowe wudn’t have her after all…said he wasn’t taking inny ghost’s lavings. The rist av the min samed to be having the same faling and she died an ould maid in the ind av it.”