The Blythes Are Quoted (48 page)

“Folks are made different,” reflected Susan Baker. “When any of the Ingleside children had a fight with the Fords or the Merediths I’d lie awake half the night, worrying over it. It was well the doctor and his wife had more sense. Mrs. Dr. dear used to say to me, ‘Children have been spatting like that all down through the ages.’ And I’m guessing she was right. Not that there was much of it in our crowd. But I remember how D’Arcy Phillips and Evelyn March used to fight.
They
tore up the turf when they went at it all right.”

“But in the ind, Susan, me dear, it didn’t be inny laughing matter: for they did have a terrible quarrel, though I niver found out what it was about. And D’Arcy wint off to college widout thim making it up. He niver come home for two years and it’s worried I was, don’t be talking. For the time was passing and though he couldn’t go to the war bekase av his short sight there was always heaps av ither boys around. And D’Arcy sich a gr-r-and young man by this time wid thim smoke-grey eyes av his. Evie hild her head high and pretinded she didn’t care but it’s me that did be knowing. And the years did be slipping, and her frinds marrying off, and the world getting big and lonely.”

“It’s well I know
that
sensation,” thought Susan. “I don’t know what would have become of me if I hadn’t got in with the Ingleside folks. The doctor likes to tease me about old Whiskers but now I’ve got over being mad at the old fool I can at least be saying there was one man wanted to marry me, whatever his reason was.”

“Thin last winter she ups and goes to Montreal for a visit and comes home ingaged to Elmer Owen.”

“Ah, now I’m going to hear the truth about that at last,” thought Susan triumphantly. “The yarns that have been going round would make you dizzy ... some saying she was and some she wasn’t ... and Mrs. Dr. dear telling me it wasn’t anybody’s business but their own. Maybe not ... but a body likes to know the truth.”

“Ye could have knocked me down wid a feather,” said Mary. “For I did be knowing only too well that she didn’t love him. And it wasn’t for his money ayther, Susan Baker.

“‘He’s my choice, Mollie,’ she sez grand-like ...”

“As I’d have said if I’d taken Whiskers,” thought Susan.

“‘Oh, oh, if ye have to choose him he’s not the right man for ye,’ sez I. ‘There’s no choosing wid the right man,’ sez I. ‘Ye jist
belong
... like D’Arcy and yersilf,’ I’d have liked to add but I dassn’t.

“Av coorse iveryone begun saying she was taking Elmer bekase he was a millionaire and talking av it as a wonderful match for her ... maybe ye heard some av the gossip, Susan Baker.”

“Some of it,” said Susan cautiously, who had heard it and believed it. “But they always say that when a girl marries a man with money.”

“I could have died with rage and spite, Susan Baker. I was all built up to hate me fine Elmer whin he come in June. But I couldn’t kape it up for he was a rale nice liddle chap in spite av his money ...”

“Mrs. Dr. dear said he was one of the nicest men she had ever met and she thought Evelyn March was a very lucky girl.”

“Ah, well, she weren’t to blame, not knowing. We all liked him ... aven Evie. Marnie hild off a bit at first ... ah, there’s the gr-r-and girl for ye, Susan Baker ...”

“I always liked her what little I’ve seen of her,” admitted Susan, adding in thought, “She didn’t put on the airs Evelyn did.”

“Evie is by way av being my fav’rite bekase I looked after her whin she was a baby and her mother so sick.”

“Just like me and Shirley,” thought Susan.

“So she’s always seemed like me own. But Marnie’s a swate thing and whin she took to moping it worried me, Susan Baker.”

“When Shirley had the scarlet fever I was like to have gone clean out of my head,” said Susan. “But I always like to think I didn’t fail Mrs. Dr. dear for all that. Night after night, Mary Hamilton ...”

“Marnie couldn’t bear the talk av the wedding ... and me thinking it was bekase she felt so bad over Evie’s going and maybe a bit sore at Elmer bekase he said, ‘Hello, gypsy,’ whin Evie introduced thim. ‘Hello, magazine-ad man,’ said Marnie. Sure and she was niver at a loss for an answer, whin people did be teasing her. It’s the blind thing I was, Susan Baker, but whin ye look back on things ye can see thim as ye couldn’t whin they was under yer nose.”

“You never spoke a truer word in your life, Mary Hamilton,” agreed Susan, wondering if Mary would ever come to the point of her story.

“Though I couldn’t be putting me finger on what was missing. Innyway, iverything was smooth as crame on top and they got all their plans made and Elmer wint back to Montreal. And after he was gone I wint into Marnie’s room to swape, thinking she was out, and there she was sitting, crying, Susan Baker ... crying so pretty ... no noise ... only just the big tears rolling down her nice liddle brown chakes.”

“The way Mrs. Dr. dear cries,” thought Susan. “It’s the real way of crying. I remember when Shirley ... and Walter ...”

“‘Darlint, what do be the matter?’ sez I in a bit av a panic. It was sich an uncommon thing to see Marnie cry. ‘Oh, nothing much,’ sez she, ‘only I’m in love with the man me sister is going to marry ... and I’m to be her maid of honour ... and I wish I was dead,’ sez she.

“Was I tuk aback, Susan Baker!”

“Like I was when Rilla brought the baby home in the soup tureen,”* thought Susan. “Will I ever be forgetting that day!”

“Nothing,” continued Mary, “could I think av saying, only stupid-like, ‘There’s a lot av min in the world, me darlint. Why be getting in sich a pother over one?’

“‘Bekase he’s the only one for me,’ sez me poor Marnie.”

“Old maid as I am I could have told you she would say that,” said Susan.

“‘But ye nadn’t worry,’ sez Marnie ... as if a body could help worrying. ‘Evelyn isn’t going to know this ... or aven suspict it. Oh, oh, Mollie,’ sez she, getting reckless like, ‘whin I first saw him I said, ‘Magazine-ad man,’ and now I could kiss his shoes! But no one’ll iver know it excipt you, Mollie, and if you iver tell I’ll slaughter you in cold blood.’ So I shouldn’t be retelling you, Susan Baker, and me conscience ...”

“Now, never mind your conscience, Mary Hamilton. Marnie was meaning her own class and anyhow everything has changed since then. She wouldn’t be minding now,” said Susan, rather guiltily but consoling herself that she would never breathe a word of it to a living soul.

*See
Rilla of Ingleside
.

“Tell, was it?” Mary Hamilton was too wrapped up in her tale to listen to Susan Baker’s interruptions. “If I could have done inny good be telling I’d have shouted it from the housetops. But I couldn’t, so I hild me tongue. And thin, on top of all that, comes me fine D’Arcy, raging mad, as I could very well be telling, but as cold as ice.

“I did be hearing it all as they fought it out on the verandy. Not that I did be listening av purpose, Susan Baker, but whin people are as close to ye as they were to me ye can’t be hilping hearing what they do be saying.

“Short and swate it was.

“‘Are ye going to sell yersilf for money? I’ll not belave it till I hear it from yer own lips,’ sez he.

“‘I’m going to marry Elmer Owen,’ sez Evelyn politely, ‘and I happen to love him, Mr. Phillips.’ ‘Ye lie,’ sez D’Arcy ... not over-polite now, was it, Susan Baker. And Evie sez, icier than himsilf and white wid rage, ‘Git out av me sight, D’Arcy Phillips, and stay out av it.’”

“When the upper crust get quarrelling there isn’t much difference between us,” thought Susan. “That sounds just like something Whiskers-on-the-Moon might have said in one of his tantrums.”

“‘I’ll take ye at yer word,’ sez D’Arcy. ‘I’m going to New York tonight’ ... he was interning there for a year, whativer that may mean ... ‘and ye’ll niver see me again, Evelyn March.’ Did ye iver be hearing the like?”

“Many’s the time,” said Susan.

“Well, wid that he wint. And me poor pet comes inty the kitchen and looks at me, still holding her head high, but wid a face like death. ‘He’s gone, Mollie,’ she said, ‘and he’ll niver come back. And I wish I was dead.’

“‘Do ye be wanting him to come back?’ sez I. ‘No lies now, me pet. A lie do be a refuge I’m not blaming inny woman for taking betimes ... ’”

“The times I’ve said I didn’t care whether I ever got married or not,” reflected Susan. “Except to Mrs. Dr. dear. I could never tell a lie to her somehow.”

“‘ ... but this is too serious for it. Iverything’s snarled up and I’m going to straighten it out wid a jerk, but I’m wanting to know where I stand first.’

“‘I
do
want him back ... and he’s the only one I’ve iver loved or iver will love,’ sez she ... as if I didn’t know that and always had been knowing av it! ‘There’s the truth for ye at last. But it’s too late. His train laves in fifteen minutes. I wudn’t give in ... me pride wouldn’t let me ... and he’s gone ... he’s gone! And innyhow he’s always hated me!’

“I’d picked that day to clane me oil stove, Susan Baker, and was I be way av being a sight! But I had no time to change inty me latest from Paris. Out I wint to the garage ... thank Hiven the little runabout was there!

“I tuk a pace off the garage door as I backed out and just shaved the lily pond. But me only worry was cud I be getting to the station afore the train wint. Niver cud I do it by the highway but there did be a witch’s road I knew av.”

“The shortcut by the Narrows road,” thought Susan. “It hasn’t been used for years. I thought it was closed up. But to a woman like Mollie Hamilton ...”

“Down the highway I wint at the rate av no man’s business ...”

“The doctor said he’d met her and never had such a narrow escape from a head-on collision in his life,” thought Susan.

“Didn’t I be thanking Hiven there wasn’t any speed cops in this part av the Island ... and niver before did I be having the satisfaction av hitting it up to siventy. Just afore I rached me side cut what did I be seeing but a big black cat, looking as if he intinded to cross the road and me heart stood still. I do be supposing ye think I’m a superstitious ould fool, Susan Baker ...”

“Not me,” said Susan. “I don’t know that I hold much with black cats ... though I remember one crossed me path the evening before we heard of Walter’s death ... but never mind that. Dreams, now, are different. While the Great War was going on there was a Miss Oliver boarding at Ingleside. And the dreams that girl would have! And every one came true. Even the doctor ... but as for the cats we can all be having our own opinion of them. Did I ever tell you the story of our Jack Frost?”

“Yis ... but I did be thinking it was my story ye was wanting to hear ...”

“Yes ... yes ... go on,” said Susan repentantly.

“Well, ayther luck was wid me or the Ould Scratch had business for him somewhere ilse for he turned around and wint back and I slewed round inty me cut.

“’Twas be way av being a grand ride, Susan Baker. Niver will I be knowing the like again I’m thinking. I skimmed over a plowed field and tore through a brook and up a muddy lane and through the backyard av the Wilson farmhouse. I’m swearing I motored slap inty a cow though where she wint whin I struck her I’ll niver be telling ye ...”

“
I
can be telling you,” said Susan. “She wasn’t much hurt except for a bit of skin or two, but she went clean off her milk and if the doctor hadn’t talked Joe Wilson round ... or even then if the Wilsons’ bill had ever been paid ... he’d have made all the trouble he could for you.”

“I slipped through the haystacks and I wint right over an acre of sparrow grass wid no bumps to spake av ... and thin up looms a spruce hedge and a wire fince beyant it. And I did be knowing I had a few minutes to spare.

“I mint to stop and rin for it ... the station was just on the other side ... but I was a bit ixcited like ... and did be putting me foot on the accelerator instid av the brake ...”

“Thank the Good Man above I’ve resisted all temptation to learn to drive a car,” thought Susan piously.

“I wint slap through the hedge ...”

“Sam Carter vowed he never saw such a sight in his life,” said Susan.

“ ... and the fince and bang inty the ind av the station. But the hedge and the fince had slowed me up a bit and no rale harm was done to the station.

“D’Arcy was jist stepping on the train ...”

“Ah, now we’re coming to the exciting part,” thought Susan. “Everybody has been wondering what she said to him.”

“I grabbed him by the arm and I sez ...”

“Both arms,” thought Susan.

“‘D’Arcy Phillips, Evelyn do be breaking her liddle heart for you and ye get straight back to her ... and if I iver hear av any more jawing and fighting betwane ye, I’ll give ye both a good spanking, for it’s clane tired I am av all yer nonsinse and misunderstanding. It’s time ye both grew up.’”

“Do people ever grow up?” reflected Susan. “The doctor and Mrs. Blythe are the only people I know of who really seem to have grown up. Certainly Whiskers-on-the-Moon didn’t. How he run.” And Susan reflected with considerable satisfaction upon a certain pot of boiling dye which the said Whiskers-on-the-Moon had once narrowly escaped.

“‘Not a yap out av ye,’ sez I, wid considerable severity.”

“They say she nearly shook the bones out of his skin,” thought Susan, “though nobody had any idea why.”

“‘Just be doing as you’re told,’ sez I.

“Well, Susan Baker, ye can be seeing for yersilf today what come av it. The insurance company was rale rasonable.”

“And lucky for poor Jim March they were,” thought Susan.

“But ye haven’t heard the whole wonder. Whin Evie told Elmer she couldn’t iver be marrying him bekase she was going to marry D’Arcy Phillips didn’t we be looking for a tithery-i! But he tuk it cool as a cowcumber and sez, sez he ... what do ye be thinking he said, Susan Baker?”

“I could never guess what any man said or thought,” said Susan. “But I think I hear them coming ...”

“Well, he did be saying, ‘He’s the brother-in-law I’d have picked.’

“She didn’t know what he was maning. But he turned up the nixt wake wid his fine blue car and its shining wire wheels. And I’ve been hearing that the moment he did be seeing Marnie, whin he came to plan the widding wid Evie, he knew he’s made a mistake, but he was too much av a gintleman to let on. He’d have gone through it widout moving a single hair if he’d had to.”