“It is nice here in summer,” admitted Joan on one of these evenings, “but it must be frightfully dull in winter.”
“It isn’t. Winter here is lovely. One can be so cozy in winter,” retorted Pat.
“You haven’t even a furnace,” said Joan. “How in the world do you keep from freezing to death?”
“We’ve stoves in every room,” said Pat proudly. “And heaps of good firewood…look at the pile over there. We can see our fires…we don’t have to sit up to a hole in the floor to get warm.”
Joan laughed.
“We have steam radiators, silly…and open fireplaces. You are funny, Pat…you’re so touchy about Silver Bush. One would think you thought it was the only place in the world.”
“It is…for me,” said Pat.
“Joe doesn’t think so,” said Joan. “I’ve had talks with Joe when we were out driving. He isn’t contented here, Pat.”
Pat stared.
“Did Joe tell you that?”
“Oh, not in so many words but I could see. I don’t think any of you here really understand Joe. He doesn’t like farming…he wants to be a sailor. Joe is a boy with very deep feelings, Pat, but he doesn’t like showing them.”
“The idea of her explaining Joe to me,” sobbed Pat to Judy, after the girls had gone to their bed in the Poet’s room. “I know Joe has some silly ideas about sailing, just as well as she does, but father says he’ll soon have more sense. I’m sure Joe would never want to go away from Silver Bush.”
“Ye can’t all be staying here foriver, darlint,” warned Judy.
“But we needn’t think of that for years yet, Judy. Joe is only nineteen. And Joan to be putting on airs about ‘understanding’ him!”
“Oh, oh, that’s where the shoe pinches,” chuckled Judy.
“And Joan asked me today if I didn’t think Dorothy had a lovely laugh. She said Dorothy was noted for her laugh. I agreed, just to be polite, Judy…”
“Oh, oh, if one hadn’t to be polite! But thin…one has.”
“But I don’t think Dorothy’s laugh is half as pretty as Winnie’s, Judy.”
“Sure and they’ve both got the Selby laugh and ye can’t be telling which av thim is laughing if ye don’t see her. But I’m knowing nather ye nor Joan cud be convinced av that. The trouble is, me jewel, that ye and Joan are a bit too much alike in a good minny things iver to be hitting it off very well.”
Pat did not tell Judy everything that had stung her. Joan had said,
“After all, that Jingle of yours has a lovely smile.”
“He’s not my Jingle,” said Pat shortly. And what difference did it make to Joan whether Jingle had a lovely smile or not? Hadn’t she made fun of his hair and his glasses and his frayed trousers? And she had also laughed at Uncle Tom’s beard and Judy’s book of Useful Knowledge. One was “Victorian” and the other was “outmoded.” They condescended to Aunt Edith and Aunt Barbara, too…they were “such quaint old darlings.” Pat had never been so conscious of the leak stain on the dining-room ceiling and the worn places in the Little Parlor carpet until she saw Joan looking at them, and she had not noticed how mossy the shingles of the kitchen roof were growing until Joan said amiably that she rather liked old houses.
“Our house is really rather too new. It’s of white stucco with a red-tiled roof…a bit glaring. Father says it will mellow with time.”
“I never like new houses,” said Pat. “They haven’t any ghosts.”
“Ghosts? But you don’t believe in ghosts, do you, Pat?”
“I didn’t mean ghosts…exactly.”
“What did you mean then?”
“Oh…just that…when a house has been lived in for years and years…something of the people who have lived in it stays in it.”
“You quaint darling!” said Dorothy.
• • •
Pat exulted in the freedom and silence of home after they had gone. It was altogether delightful to be alone again. The books that had been strewn everywhere were back in their places; the Poet’s room was no longer cluttered up with alien dresses and shoes and brushes and necklaces.
“Isn’t it nice just to be here by ourselves and no outsiders?” she said to Judy as they sat on the steps. A night of dim silver was brooding over the bush and the pale, perfect gold of the trembling aspen leaves had faded into shadow. The still air was full of far, muted surf thunder. Gentleman Tom had arranged himself beautifully on the well platform and the two orange kittens were blinking their jewel eyes and purring their small hearts out on Pat’s lap.
“Mother says she is so sorry I didn’t love my cousins. I do love them, Judy, but I don’t like them.”
“Oh, oh, but three’s a crowd,” said Judy. “Two girls can be getting on very well but whin there’s three av ye and all high-steppers, some one’s bound to get rubbed the wrong way. Often have I been seeing it.”
“I liked Joan in spots,…but she made me feel unimportant, Judy. She snubbed me.”
“Sure and she’d snub the moon, that one. But she’s the cliver one for all.”
“And she bragged…she did.”
“The Hiltons always did be liking to make a bit av a splash. And didn’t ye do a bit av snubbing and bragging now yersilf, Patsy darlint? Though I’m not saying ye didn’t be having the aggravation. There don’t be minny families that haven’t their own liddle kinks. Even the Selbys now, niver to mintion the Gardiners. Ye have to be making allowances. I’m thinking ye’d av been liking the girls better if it wasn’t for yer liddle jealousy, Patsy…”
“I wasn’t jealous, Judy!’
“Oh, oh, be honest now, me jewel. Ye was jealous of Joan because Joe liked her and ye was jealous of Dorothy because Sid and Cuddles liked her. Ye have yer liddle faults, Patsy, just as they have.”
“I don’t tell fibs anyway. They told mother when they went away they had had a perfectly lovely time. They hadn’t. That was a lie, Judy.”
“Oh, oh…a polite lie maybe…and maybe not all a lie. They had it in spots as ye say, I’m thinking.”
“Anyway there’s one word I never want to hear again as long as I live, Judy, and that’s ‘quaint.’”
“Quaint, is it? Sure and whin Joan called Gentleman Tom quaint I’ll be swearing the baste winked at me. I cud av been telling Miss Joan her own grandfather was quaint the night he got up to be making a spach at a Tory meeting and his wife, who was born a Tolman and be the same token a Grit, laned over from the sate behind and pulled him down be his coat-tails. Ye cud hear the thud all over the hall. Not a word wud she let him be saying. Oh, oh, quaint!”
“Sometimes, Judy, they made me awful mad…inside.”
“But ye kept it inside. That shows ye’re getting on. It’s what we all have to be larning, me jewel, if we want to be living wid folks paceable. Mad inside, is it? Sure and I was mad inside ivry day they was here whin they began showing off in me own kitchen. And that Joan one talking about kaping ‘abreast av the times.’ Sure, thinks I to mesilf, if chasing around in circles after yer own tail is kaping up wid the times ye’re the lady that can be doing it. And thin I wud be thinking that yer Aunts at the Bay Shore were just the same whin they were liddle girls and thinks I, fam’lies must be standing be each other and life will be curing us all av a lot av foolishness. I wudn’t wonder if ye’d be mating the girls some time agin whin ye’ve all got a bit riper and finding ye like thim very well.”
Pat received this prediction in skeptical silence. She looked up to the Long House where the light in Bets’ window was glowing like a friendly star on a dark hill.
“Anyway I’m glad Bets and I can be alone again. Bets is the only girl I want for a friend.”
“What will ye be doing whin she grows up and goes away?”
“Oh, but she never will, Judy. Even if she gets married she will go on living at the Long House because she is
the only child. And I’ll always be here and we’ll always be together. We have it all arranged.”
Judy sighed and nudged.
“Don’t be after saying thim things out loud, Patsy…not out loud, darlint. Sure and ye niver can tell who might be listening to ye.”
CHAPTER 23
Mock Sunshine
“Pat, can you meet me in Happiness right away?” phoned Jingle.
The Gordons had had a telephone put in at last and Jingle and Pat generally kept the wire from rusting.
Pat knew from Jingle’s voice that something exciting had happened…exciting and pleasant. What could it be? Exciting and pleasant things were so rare in Jingle’s life, poor fellow. She went to Happiness so speedily that she was there before Jingle, waiting for him in a ferny hollow among the cradle hills. Jingle lingered for a moment behind a screen of young spruces to watch her…her wonderful golden-brown eyes fixed dreamily on the sky…a provoking smile over hidden thoughts lingering around her mouth…just enough of a smile to give it that dear little kissable quirk at the corner that was beginning to make Jingle’s heart act queerly whenever he saw it. What was she thinking of? What did girls think of? Jingle found himself wishing he knew more about them in general.
Pat looked away from her clouds to see a Jingle she had never seen before with eyes so bright that their radiance shone through even the dark quenching glasses.
“Jingle, you look as if…as if everything had come true.”
“It has…for me.” Jingle flung himself down on the grass and propped his face on his thin sunburned hands. “Pat…mother’s coming…tomorrow!”
Pat gasped.
“Oh, Jingle! At last! How wonderful!”
“The telegram came last night. I phoned right over to Silver Bush but Judy said you were away. Then this morning I had to leave at five to take a load of factory cheese to town. I’ve just got back…I wanted you to be the first to know.”
“Jingle…I’m so glad.”
“I am, too…only, Pat…I wish she’d written she was coming instead of wiring it.”
“Likely she hadn’t time. Where was she?”
“In St. John. Oh, Pat, think of it…I’m fifteen and I’ve never seen my mother…not to remember her. Not even a picture of her…I haven’t the least idea what she really looks like. Long ago…you remember, Pat…the day we found Happiness?…I told you she had blue eyes and golden hair. But I just imagined that because I heard Aunt Maria say once that she was ‘fair.’ Perhaps she isn’t like that at all.”
“I’m sure she’ll be lovely whatever kind of eyes and hair she has,” assured Pat.
“Ever since I saw that Madonna of the Clouds in your little parlor I’ve been imagining mother looked like that. Of course she must be older…mother is really thirty-five. I couldn’t sleep last night for thinking about her coming. I don’t see how I can wait till tomorrow. Last night I thought I couldn’t wait for two morrows.”
Jingle’s thin, delicately-cut face was dreamy and remote. Pat gazed at him, thrilling with sympathy. She knew what this meant to him.
“I know. Judy says when I was small and promised anything ‘tomorrow’ I’d keep plaguing her, ‘Where is tomorrow now, Judy?’ Your tomorrow is somewhere, Jingle…right this very minute it must be somewhere. Isn’t that nice to think?”
“All day today I’ve just been in a dream, Pat. It didn’t seem real. I’ve taken out and read the telegram a hundred times just to be sure. If it had only been a letter, Pat…a letter she had written…touched.”
“You’ll have her, herself, tomorrow and that will be better than any letter. How long will she stay?”
“I don’t know. She doesn’t say anything but that she’ll be here. I hope for weeks.”
“Perhaps…perhaps she’ll take you away with her, Jingle.”
Pat was a little breathless. The idea had gone through her like lightning. It was a very unwelcome one. Jingle gone! Jordan and no Jingle! Happiness and no Jingle! A queer chill seemed to begin somewhere inside of her and spread all over her body.
Jingle shook his head.
“I don’t think so…some way I…I don’t think I’d even want to go. But to see her…to feel her arms around me just once! To tell her everything. I’m going to give her all the letters, Pat. I got them out of the box last night and read them over. The first ones, when I just had to print the letters, were so funny. But a mother wouldn’t think them funny, would she? A mother would like them, don’t you think?”
“I’m sure she’ll just love them. She couldn’t help it.”
Jingle gave a sigh of satisfaction.
“You know so much more about a mother than I do, Pat. You’ve had one all your life.”
Pat winked her eyes savagely. It would be absurd to cry. But she was twisted with a sudden fierce pity for Jingle…whose mother had never come to see him…who had years of letters that he had never sent. She was sorry for the mother who had missed them.
But everything would be all right after this.
“You must come over and see mother, Pat.”
“Oh, but, Jingle, I don’t like to. You’ll want to be alone together.”
“Most of the time, I suppose. But I want you to see her…and I want her to see you. And we’ll bring her up here and show her Happiness, won’t we, Pat? You won’t mind?”
“Of course not. And of course she’ll want to see it because it’s a place you love.”
“I haven’t had time to make anything for her.”
“You can get a lovely bouquet ready for her, Jingle. She’ll just love that.”
“But we haven’t any nice flowers at our place.”
“Come over early in the morning and get some from our garden. I’ll make the bouquet up for you…there’s some lovely baby’s breath out now. You can choose the flowers and I’ll arrange them. Judy says I have a knack with flowers. Jingle, what is your mother’s name?”
“Mrs. Garrison,” said Jingle bitterly. It was a hateful thing to him that his mother’s name was not his. “Her first name is Doreen. That is a pretty name, isn’t it?”
“So Jim’s fine widdy is coming to see her b’y at last?” said Judy when she heard the news. “Well, it’s not afore the time. I’m thinking Larry Gordon wrote her a bit av a letter. I’ve heard him say it was time he knew what her plans for the b’y was if she had inny. The tacher up at South Glen has been at him to take up the branches this year but Larry says what wud the use be. They can’t ixpect him to foot the bills for Quane’s, what wid him being barely able to scrape up his interest ivery year.”
“Then…you think…you don’t think Jingle’s mother is coming just because she wanted to see him?” said Pat slowly.
“I’m not saying she isn’t. But ye do be knowing she’s niver wanted to see him for over a dozen years. Howsomiver, maybe she’s had a change av heart and let’s hope it hard, Patsy, for I’m thinking that poor Jingle-lad is all set up over her coming.”
“He is…oh, Judy, it just means everything to him. Maybe…when she sees him….”
“Maybe,” agreed Judy dubiously.
• • •
Jingle was over bright and early to get the bouquet for his mother. He had put on his poor best suit, which was too short for him and had been too short for a year. His aunt had cut his hair and made rather a worse job than usual of it. But his face was flushed with excitement and for the first time it occurred to Pat that Jingle wasn’t such a bad-looking boy. If it were not for those awful glasses!
“Jingle, take them off before your mother comes. It couldn’t hurt your eyes for a little while.”
“Aunt Maria wouldn’t like it. She paid for my glasses, you know, and she says I’ve got to wear them all the time or it would be wasted money. She…she knows I hate them, I think…and that’s really why she gets so cross if I leave them off. When we get mot
her away by ourselves…when we go to Happiness…I’ll take them off. Pat, think of mother…my own mother…in Happiness!”
They spent a long time over the bouquet. Jingle was hard to please. Only absolutely perfect flowers must go into it…and no delphiniums.
“Delphiniums are so haughty,” said Jingle. “And they’ve no perfume. Just sweet-smelling flowers, Pat. And a bit of southern wood. You know Judy calls it ‘lad’s love.’ So it ought to go in mother’s bouquet.”
Jingle laughed a bit consciously But he did not mind if Pat thought him sentimental.
“We’ll put in some of the leaves of the old sweet-briar…they’ve such a lovely apple scent. I wish there were more roses out. It’s too early for them…but these little pink buds are darling…and those white ones with the pink hearts. There was one lovely copper rose out last night…just one on father’s new bush. He told me we could have it. But it rained last night and it was all beaten and ruined this morning. I almost cried. But here’s one long red bud from Winnie’s bush and I’ll put it in your coat, Jingle.”
“Just two hours more,” said Jingle. “Pat, I want you to come over right after dinner, before she comes. Will you?”
“Oh, Jingle…wouldn’t you want to be alone when you see her first?”
“If I could be alone…but Uncle Lawrence and Aunt Maria will be there…and, somehow…I don’t know…I just feel as if I wanted you there, too, Pat.”
In the end Pat went, thrilling from head to foot with excitement…and considerable curiosity. She had put her hair in curlers the night before, to look her best before Jingle’s mother, but the result was rather bushy and rampant.
“It would look all right if it was bobbed, Judy,” she muttered rebelliously.
“Standing out round yer head like a hello,” said Judy sarcastically.
Pat braided it in tightly and put on the new blue pull-over Judy had knitted for her, over her cornflower blue skirt. Would Jingle’s mother think her just a crude little country girl with a head like a fuzz-bush?
“I don’t suppose she’ll ever think of me at all,” Pat comforted herself. “She’ll be so taken up with Jingle.”
Pat of Silver Bush Page 21
