by Jean Little
It is queer how much we miss her. Her special chair looks so empty.
Tuesday afternoon
When Aunt Lib died, Cousin Anna cried and cried. She has not stopped since it happened. Tom says she’s a watering pot.
Mother is finding it hard to go on resting, with so much happening. If she knew about Jasper, we’d never get her back to bed. She called Anna to sit by her. I followed along, ready to listen in. What I heard actually struck me dumb with surprise, which was a good thing.
Mother started out by telling Cousin A. that she had been a good daughter to Aunt Lib. “I know she was hard on you,” she said, “but now all that is over.”
Cousin Anna stuck up for Aunt Lib! “Mother did her best,” she sobbed, “but she never wanted a daughter. She couldn’t help it that she didn’t love me.”
I could not believe my ears. And then Mother said something even more staggering. Aunt Lib had loved Cousin Anna and she had left her some land with a cottage on it, plus all her money.
“It isn’t a huge fortune, but it’s more than any of us guessed she had tucked away. She made Alastair promise not to tell you, but she did not want you to be penniless when she was gone.”
Cousin Anna’s jaw dropped. I did my best to disappear. I knew, if they noticed me, I’d be sent away.
“Lilias, you wouldn’t joke …”
Mother said there was plenty for C.A. to live on in comfort for the rest of her days.
The cottage — which has three bedrooms, a parlour, a dining room and a kitchen — has been rented to some people, but Aunt Lib, knowing she was dying, asked Father to tell them she would not renew the lease.
Cousin Anna’s mouth was still hanging open like a fish’s.
Mother hugged her and said she would not joke about such a thing.
“You can live there, if you wish, Anna. Or you can sell it and get a place you like better,” she went on, speaking gently in a slow voice. “I know. It’s a shock.”
There was a stunned silence. I hardly dared to breathe.
“But, Lilias, why didn’t she tell me?” Cousin Anna said. She sounded as though she had been hit on the head and was dazed, instead of someone who has just learned she is an heiress.
Mother said she imagined Aunt Lib was afraid that the two of them would spend all the money and end up with nothing. By not telling, she had protected Cousin Anna’s future. The lawyer would be coming to see her after the funeral, but Father and she had decided Anna should know now.
Then Cousin Anna started to cry again in great gulps and I ran away from them. I knew I was not meant to hear.
Nobody noticed me slipping down the cellar stairs before I went to bed. It made me feel a little better. Jasper knew me right away. He still looks awful, though.
I must stop writing in you for now, dear Diary. Keeping this journal is far more enthralling than I thought. I’ve never once been tempted to make up anything. To think I was afraid I would not be able to find anything to write about!
Wednesday, July 28
We all went to Aunt Lib’s funeral this afternoon. Cousin Anna had arranged everything. There were lots of flowers. It smelled sweeter than a garden, but not as nice. I had no idea she knew so many people, but Mother reminded me that she was a preacher’s wife.
Aunt Lib looked far more peaceful dead than she ever did when she was alive. But sort of frozen with an unreal smile on her lips. She looked strange without her spectacles too. I hope I don’t dream about her.
The minister went on and on about what a wonderful woman Mrs. Fair had been — kind, generous. You could tell he didn’t know her. He’d only come to see her twice. Cousin Anna was not at all pleased with him.
Then we had sandwiches and things and other relatives I didn’t know were there, all hugging and kissing each other. They actually laughed and made jokes! I was shocked. But Mother says laughter is only crying turned inside out.
When I die, I hope they behave better. I will never understand grown-ups. I heard two ladies I had never seen in my life talking away about their false teeth.
Roberta and her mother came. When nobody was near enough to hear, she whispered, “The circus is this week. Will you be able to go?”
I did not even ask. What with Jasper hiding in the house and Aunt Lib’s death, I needed to be at home.
“No,” I told her. “I can’t.”
She looked understanding, and she doesn’t even know about Jasper. Cousin Anna was supposed to be going with Father tomorrow to inspect her cottage, but she asked if he could possibly take her today. It was already after four o’clock and everyone was surprised.
“But, Cousin Anna —” Mother began.
“Don’t say no,” Cousin Anna begged. “I couldn’t settle down to anything and I cannot wait another day to see it.”
She sounded like me on Christmas morning.
So off they went. Mother had sent Mrs. Dougal and a friend of hers to go in and clean it after the renters left. I wonder what it is like. If I weren’t worried about their finding Jasper when I’m not home, I would have asked to go along for the ride.
Later
Father came home alone. Cousin Anna wanted to stay overnight.
“But, Alastair,” Mother cried, “what if she wakes up all by herself in an empty house? I’m quite sure she’s never spent a night alone in her life.”
“Perhaps that is why she has chosen to do so now,” Father answered.
David had come home for the funeral and he offered to go over and keep her company. I think she’ll be glad to see him. Father said he could walk over after supper, but not to push himself in if she did not want him.
Our house seems incredibly quiet now. Even Snortle notices and tries to find everybody.
“Poor little fellow, trying to run us all to earth,” Mother said. “Calm yourself, Snortle. The peace won’t last.”
Moses is not her usual self either. I’ve never felt like this before. It is like being lost and yet knowing you are foolish because you are still in your own house.
Thursday morning, July 29
Wearing dark clothes all the time makes me dreary. Mother won’t put a child in black, but she is wearing it herself and it makes her look like a ghost.
Jasper is definitely better. He knows us now. But we will soon have to make a plan. He can’t spend his life in the cellar.
Tomorrow, while Mother is resting and Father is making his house calls, we are going to let him come upstairs for a while so he can see the sunlight and not feel like someone shut up in a dungeon.
Goodbye for now, my dear Diary, keeper of my secrets. I have never had so many secrets in my life before.
Friday, July 30
Today was a catastrophe from start to finish. I can’t bear to write it. Jasper has run away!
It was all that Mrs. Jordan’s fault.
No, it wasn’t. I know whose fault it was. Mother was resting and had fallen fast asleep. Father had gone out on a baby case. Mrs. Dougal went home early because her sister had come to visit from Niagara Falls. Cousin Anna was still at her cottage, and of course Mrs. Thirsk hasn’t been here since Aunt Lib died. So I, clever Victoria, had this great idea to bring Jasper up out of the cellar so he could get some light and air. It seemed perfectly safe. He must have been looking out through the front room window when Mrs. Jordan drove up in her buggy.
He gave a shriek and we ran to see what was wrong. There she was tying her horse to the hitching post. We trusted Jasper to go back in hiding. Tom and Marianna and I had a quick consultation while she was coming up the walk. Then we met her at the door.
We were worried about her seeing Jasper, so we did not invite her in. I just spoke as politely as I could, and told her Cousin Anna had gone to her cottage on Paisley Road.
“Oh,” she said, staring at me. “You mean she’s out?”
I had to explain about the cottage because she knew nothing about it, of course. She said a few more things — talking to herself as much as to me — enough f
or me to realize that her brother went off somewhere for a couple of days and she made up her mind to leave. It sounded as if she just packed her clothes, hitched up her horse and buggy, loaded the clothes onto the back and, when Mr. Stone left the house, set out for Guelph.
And now that she knew Cousin Anna had her own cottage, Mrs. Jordan decided she should go there.
“Carl will never dream of looking for me there. He knows about this place, you see, but he has no idea Anna would be somewhere else,” she trilled, her eyes sparkling. “He is still in a rage about that little Jasper Wilson running off. He’ll be angrier yet to discover I’ve gone. So he must not find me.”
“Oh,” I said, trying to keep my face blank. “Hasn’t that boy come home yet?”
“No,” she said, giving us a strange look. “As a matter of fact, I thought I saw his face at the window when I was tying Minnie to the hitching post.”
“No,” we all shrieked, as though she had accused us of some terrible crime.
“It must have been our other brother you saw,” I said, thinking fast. I was proud of myself. And Tom, also inspired, said he could show her to Cousin Anna’s cottage if she liked.
At last they were out of sight. I was pleased Jasper had been smart enough to slip away without anyone noticing. I took it for granted he was back in the cellar. Marianna and I dashed down to reassure him.
Nobody was there.
We hunted high and low. It was terrible. No Jasper anywhere.
“He must have seen her,” Sparrow moaned. “He should have trusted us. Oh, Victoria, what will we do?”
I told her to keep looking. I could not believe he had really vanished. But we could not find hide nor hair of him. He seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth. Well, that can’t be true, but it feels that way, and the three of us are so afraid for him.
He was smart not to go back into the loft, of course, since Mrs. Jordan’s mare might have been stabled there overnight, if she had ended up staying. Maybe he is watching the place and, once he is sure she is gone, he will creep back. Sparrow is beside herself, but I tell her to keep hoping.
If only Mr. Stone stays away until Father comes home. If only Jasper turns up unharmed.
Tom came back first, of course. He said Cousin Anna and Mrs. Jordan were like two schoolgirls, they were so excited about meeting again. They hardly noticed when he left. He asked if they needed anything.
“No, no. You run along, Tom, and tell them we’re as happy as two kittens in a basket,” Cousin Anna told him.
It doesn’t sound like her, but Tom swears that is what she said, word for word. Father did come home too, after I had almost given up on him. He was so pleased about the delivery — twins — that he did not notice anything out of the way.
I wish I had seen the meeting of Cousin Anna and her dear friend Pansy. It would be a good thing for a future writer to observe.
Now I am going to bed.
If only everything would be ordinary for a few days. I’d like to go over to Roberta’s house and play dolls and forget about people being poor and sick and dying.
Mother is not well. Sparrow has just told me that she is really worried about her. She has been resting when she can and taking her tonic, but it has not helped. Father has asked Dr. Graham to come back tomorrow.
Please, God, let my mother be all right. Nothing else matters.
Except Jasper. Please, Heavenly Father, find him for us and let him be unharmed.
Saturday afternoon, July 31
Mother has to stay right in bed from now until the baby comes. Marianna told me that Mother’s legs were terribly swollen and she is often dizzy. The doctor had not come for a few days and he took one look at her and told Father if he didn’t want to lose another baby and perhaps his wife as well, he would see to it that she stayed in bed from this moment on.
“If I did not know you had had a death in the family, I’d have a few harsh words to say to you, Alastair,” he told Father. “Lilias is in real difficulty. Take care of her and see that the rest of your brood does, too, if they want to keep her.”
Marianna told me that Father looked scared. I know I was terrified at hearing what Dr. Graham said.
He and Father brought a bed into the dining room so that Mother would be close enough for us to watch over her. They raised the foot of the bed up on bricks so poor Mother’s on a slant. She has a pillow under her head, but the rest of her slopes up to her feet. He told Marianna certain foods to give her. Lots of fruit juice and milk and beef tea. Calf’s foot jelly.
I stood in the hall listening with both ears, and watched Sparrow nodding her head up and down, up and down. I could see her hand patting Mother’s shoulder while she took in all the orders.
“You are a sensible girl,” Dr. Graham said at last, smiling at her. “I believe you have had some experience of birthing babies. Am I right?”
“Yes, sir,” she said, calm as a cucumber. “Before my dad died, I used to go along with my mam to help out. She was the midwife in our neighbourhood.”
“Well, we don’t need you to deliver this baby, but I do want you to follow my instructions to the letter. If Dr. Cope is not home and you think I should be called, send one of the children. Alastair, you make sure that they will do what she says.”
“I will see to it. I think they would in any case, if they knew their mother needed you,” Father said.
“I don’t know how they’ll all manage without me,” Mother said feebly.
But even I could hear the relief in her voice as she let go of the job of keeping the whole family going.
Sparrow is calling me.
Saturday Evening
I am going on with my diary while Mother sleeps.
Dr. Graham offered to ask Mrs. Thirsk to come back.
“Mrs. Dougal and Victoria and I will manage just fine,” Marianna said firmly, and I agreed in a loud voice. Father had to go to his office. The waiting room was filled with impatient patients. He told Tom and me to do whatever Sparrow said.
“You don’t need to tell me,” I blazed.
“I know, Vic,” he said gently, patting my shoulder.
To tell the truth, I was so frightened I could hardly get the words past my lips. How could we manage? Even with Mrs. Dougal here through the week, I was really quite sure we could not. I can dust and lay the table and wash and dry the dishes. I’ve helped make griddle cakes and I can make tea, of course, and boil eggs. I can make toast with the toasting fork and never let it burn. But nobody has taught me to cook, not whole meals for a family.
Marianna looked at me and grinned.
“We can do it,” she whispered. “You’ll see, Victoria Josephine Cope.”
She was at the helm and she sounded as though she knew exactly where we were bound and how to get us there. She didn’t leave me time to fret. She sent Tom off to the grocer’s and the chemist’s for supplies. Then she told me to go and keep my mother company.
When I tiptoed in, Mother looked hot and fretful and not like herself. Then Sparrow came up behind me and pushed a palm-leaf fan into my hand.
“Use this to help cool her,” she said softly. “I’ll bring you a cloth and some water for wiping her face with. But don’t pester her. And don’t chatter, Vic. She’s tired.”
So I sat and fanned Mother and wiped her forehead with cool water. And, much to my surprise, it seemed to help. It was a good thing Marianna warned me not to talk, for I was about to start jabbering to keep her entertained.
“Maybe you should sing me a lullaby, daughter,” she murmured. I thought she was teasing until I saw her eyelids drooping.
I began to sing softly some of the songs she used to sing to me when I was little. “Lullaby and Good Night” and “Sleep, My Child, and Peace Attend Thee.” Then I thought of Christmas carols and started in on “Away in a Manger” and “Silent Night.” They made me feel cooler and they put my weary mother to sleep. I was so proud when I heard her breathing grow slow and knew she had gone to sleep.
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The moment I relaxed, I remembered that Jasper was still missing. I wonder how Sparrow keeps going so bravely. I suppose she has had so many hard times that she has worked out ways to get through them.
I asked her if this was true.
“You’ll soon see, Victoria, that hard things are easier to stand if you keep busy,” she said.
I wonder if that is true for everyone or just for Marianna Wilson.
She made mock duck and cottage pudding for supper. She also set bread to rise. Then she left me in charge and went over our house and property again, in case Jasper had crept back. He had not. I knew by one glance at her pale face.
When Mother woke she automatically began to get up, but I pushed her back on her pillow.
“Rest, Mother,” I commanded her. The words came out in a hoarse croak which I could not keep steady. “Marianna Wilson has everything in charge. You are NOT to stir.”
“And you, my honey, are her right-hand girl,” she said.
Then Sparrow came with the commode and helped Mother get to the chair to relieve herself. I had forgotten that. Then she brought a basin of warm water, soap and a towel.
“Victoria, toast her a slice of bread with honey on it and make her a cup of weak tea,” she commanded me.
I ran. It was comforting to have someone telling me good things to do for my mother. I made the toast exactly the way she likes it, not too dark, not too light, just golden.
Father came and discovered her half-asleep. She smiled at him.
“You look better, Lilias,” he said softly, “thanks to these three wonderful children.”
It was strange. Marianna did not seem a child to me.
Then and there, I told them the truth about Marianna’s name. After all, Cousin Anna was not in the house all the time any longer. They were amazed. I didn’t tell them her nickname, though. They will hear Jasper saying it someday, I hope.
