Anne's House of Dreams - Lucy Maud Montgomery (ebook reader macos .txt) š
- Author: Lucy Maud Montgomery
- Performer: 0553213180
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Wasnāt that like a man? However, I hope YOUR confidence will be better justified, dearie. The young doctor is taking real well. I was afraid at first he mightnāt, for folks hereabouts have always thought old Doctor Dave the only doctor in the world. Doctor Dave hadnāt much tact, to be sureāhe was always talking of ropes in houses where someone had hanged himself. But folks forgot their hurt feelings when they had a pain in their stomachs. If heād been a minister instead of a doctor theyād never have forgiven him. Soul-ache doesnāt worry folks near as much as stomach-ache. Seeing as weāre both Presbyterians and no Methodists around, will you tell me your candid opinion of OUR minister?ā
āWhyāreallyāIāwell,ā hesitated Anne.
Miss Cornelia nodded.
āExactly. I agree with you, dearie. We made a mistake when we called HIM. His face just looks like one of those long, narrow stones in the graveyard, doesnāt it? `Sacred to the memoryā ought to be written on his forehead. I shall never forget the first sermon he preached after he came. It was on the subject of everyone doing what they were best fitted forāa very good subject, of course; but such illustrations as he used! He said, `If you had a cow and an apple tree, and if you tied the apple tree in your stable and planted the cow in your orchard, with her legs up, how much milk would you get from the apple tree, or how many apples from the cow?ā Did you ever hear the like in your born days, dearie? I was so thankful there were no Methodists there that dayātheyād never have been done hooting over it. But what I dislike most in him is his habit of agreeing with everybody, no matter what is said. If you said to him, `Youāre a scoundrel,ā heād say, with that smooth smile of his, `Yes, thatās so.ā A minister should have more backbone. The long and the short of it is, I consider him a reverend jackass. But, of course, this is just between you and me. When there are Methodists in hearing I praise him to the skies. Some folks think his wife dresses too gay, but I say when she has to live with a face like that she needs something to cheer her up. Youāll never hear ME condemning a woman for her dress. Iām only too thankful when her husband isnāt too mean and miserly to allow it. Not that I bother much with dress myself. Women just dress to please the men, and Iād never stoop to THAT. I have had a real placid, comfortable life, dearie, and itās just because I never cared a cent what the men thought.ā
āWhy do you hate the men so, Miss Bryant?ā
āLord, dearie, I donāt hate them. They arenāt worth it. I just sort of despise them. I think Iāll like YOUR husband if he keeps on as he has begun. But apart from him about the only men in the world Iāve much use for are the old doctor and Captain Jim.ā
āCaptain Jim is certainly splendid,ā agreed Anne cordially.
āCaptain Jim is a good man, but heās kind of vexing in one way. You CANāT make him mad. Iāve tried for twenty years and he just keeps on being placid. It does sort of rile me. And I sāpose the woman he should have married got a man who went into tantrums twice a day.ā
āWho was she?ā
āOh, I donāt know, dearie. I never remember of Captain Jim making up to anybody. He was edging on old as far as my memory goes. Heās seventy-six, you know. I never heard any reason for his staying a bachelor, but there must be one, believe ME. He sailed all his life till five years ago, and thereās no corner of the earth he hasnāt poked his nose into. He and Elizabeth Russell were great cronies, all their lives, but they never had any notion of sweethearting. Elizabeth never married, though she had plenty of chances. She was a great beauty when she was young. The year the Prince of Wales came to the Island she was visiting her uncle in Charlottetown and he was a Government official, and so she got invited to the great ball. She was the prettiest girl there, and the Prince danced with her, and all the other women he didnāt dance with were furious about it, because their social standing was higher than hers and they said he shouldnāt have passed them over. Elizabeth was always very proud of that dance. Mean folks said that was why she never marriedāshe couldnāt put up with an ordinary man after dancing with a prince. But that wasnāt so. She told me the reason onceāit was because she had such a temper that she was afraid she couldnāt live peaceably with any man. She HAD an awful temperāshe used to have to go upstairs and bite pieces out of her bureau to keep it down by times. But I told her that wasnāt any reason for not marrying if she wanted to. Thereās no reason why we should let the men have a monopoly of temper, is there, Mrs. Blythe, dearie?ā
āIāve a bit of temper myself,ā sighed Anne.
āItās well you have, dearie. You wonāt be half so likely to be trodden on, believe ME! My, how that golden glow of yours is blooming! Your garden looks fine. Poor Elizabeth always took such care of it.ā
āI love it,ā said Anne. āIām glad itās so full of old-fashioned flowers. Speaking of gardening, we want to get a man to dig up that little lot beyond the fir grove and set it out with strawberry plants for us. Gilbert is so busy he will never get time for it this fall. Do you know anyone we can get?ā
āWell, Henry Hammond up at the Glen goes out doing jobs like that. Heāll do, maybe. Heās always a heap more interested in his wages than in his work, just like a man, and heās so slow in the uptake that he stands still for five minutes before it dawns on him that heās stopped. His father threw a stump at him when he was small.
Nice gentle missile, wasnāt it? So like a man! Course, the boy never got over it. But heās the only one I can recommend at all. He painted my house for me last spring. It looks real nice now, donāt you think?ā
Anne was saved by the clock striking five.
āLord, is it that late?ā exclaimed Miss Cornelia. āHow time does slip by when youāre enjoying yourself! Well, I must betake myself home.ā
āNo, indeed! You are going to stay and have tea with us,ā said Anne eagerly.
āAre you asking me because you think you ought to, or because you really want to?ā demanded Miss Cornelia.
āBecause I really want to.ā
āThen Iāll stay. YOU belong to the race that knows Joseph.ā
āI know we are going to be friends,ā said Anne, with the smile that only they of the household of faith ever saw.
āYes, we are, dearie. Thank goodness, we can choose our friends. We have to take our relatives as they are, and be thankful if there are no penitentiary birds among them. Not that Iāve manyā none nearer than second cousins. Iām a kind of lonely soul, Mrs. Blythe.ā
There was a wistful note in Miss Corneliaās voice.
āI wish you would call me Anne,ā exclaimed Anne impulsively. āIt would seem more HOMEY. Everyone in Four Winds, except my husband, calls me Mrs. Blythe, and it makes me feel like a stranger. Do you know that your name is very near being the one I yearned after when I was a child. I hated `Anneā and I called myself `Cordeliaā in imagination.ā
āI like Anne. It was my motherās name. Old-fashioned names are the best and sweetest in my opinion. If youāre going to get tea you might send the young doctor to talk to me. Heās been lying on the sofa in that office ever since I came, laughing fit to kill over what Iāve been saying.ā
āHow did you know?ā cried Anne, too aghast at this instance of Miss Corneliaās uncanny prescience to make a polite denial.
āI saw him sitting beside you when I came up the lane, and I know menās tricks,ā retorted Miss Cornelia. āThere, Iāve finished my little dress, dearie, and the eighth baby can come as soon as it pleases.ā
It was late September when Anne and Gilbert were able to pay Four Winds light their promised visit. They had often planned to go, but something always occurred to prevent them. Captain Jim had ādropped inā several times at the little house.
āI donāt stand on ceremony, Mistress Blythe,ā he told Anne. āItās a real pleasure to me to come here, and Iām not going to deny myself jest because you havenāt got down to see me. There oughtnāt to be no bargaining like that among the race that knows Joseph. Iāll come when I can, and you come when you can, and so longās we have our pleasant little chat it donāt matter a mite what roofās over us.ā
Captain Jim took a great fancy to Gog and Magog, who were presiding over the destinies of the hearth in the little house with as much dignity and aplomb as they had done at Pattyās Place.
āArenāt they the cutest little cusses?ā he would say delightedly; and he bade them greeting and farewell as gravely and invariably as he did his host and hostess. Captain Jim was not going to offend household deities by any lack of reverence and ceremony.
āYouāve made this little house just about perfect,ā he told Anne. āIt never was so nice before. Mistress Selwyn had your taste and she did wonders; but folks in those days didnāt have the pretty little curtains and pictures and nicknacks you have. As for Elizabeth, she lived in the past. Youāve kinder brought the future into it, so to speak. Iād be real happy even if we couldnāt talk at all, when I come hereājest to sit and look at you and your pictures and your flowers would be enough of a treat. Itās beautifulābeautiful.ā
Captain Jim was a passionate worshipper of beauty. Every lovely thing heard or seen gave him a deep, subtle, inner joy that irradiated his life. He was quite keenly aware of his own lack of outward comeliness and lamented it.
āFolks say Iām good,ā he remarked whimsically upon one occasion, ābut I sometimes wish the Lord had made me only half as good and put the rest of it into looks. But there, I reckon He knew what He was about, as a good Captain should. Some of us have to be homely, or the purty onesālike Mistress Blythe hereāwouldnāt show up so well.ā
One evening Anne and Gilbert finally walked down to the Four Winds light. The day had begun sombrely in gray cloud and mist, but it had ended in a pomp of scarlet and gold. Over the western hills beyond the harbor were amber deeps and crystalline shallows, with the fire of sunset below. The north was a mackerel sky of little, fiery golden clouds. The red light flamed on the white sails of a vessel gliding down the channel, bound to a southern port in a land of palms. Beyond her, it smote upon and incarnadined the shining, white, grassless faces of the sand dunes. To the right, it fell on the old house among the willows up the brook, and gave it for a fleeting space
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