Lucy Montgomery - Anne of Windy Poplars

”A flower," said Aunt Chatty.

Cousin Ernestine looked a little disappointed.

”Well, whatever it is, Sandy Bugle's widow's got it. I heerd her telling her sister in church last Sunday that she had a calceolaria at last. Your geraniums are dreadful scraggy, Charlotte. I'm afraid you don't fertilize them properly. Mrs. Sandy's gone out of mourning and poor Sandy only dead four years. Ah well, the dead are soon forgot nowadays. My sister wore crape for her husband twenty-five years.”

”Did you know your placket was open?" said Rebecca, setting a coconut pie before Aunt Kate.

”I haven't time to be always staring at my face in the glass," said Cousin Ernestine acidly. "What if my placket is open? I've got three petticoats on, haven't I? They tell me the girls nowadays only wear one. I'm afraid the world is gitting dreadful gay and giddy. I wonder if they ever think of the judgment day.”

”Do you s'pose they'll ask us at the judgment day how many petticoats we've got on?" asked Rebecca Dew, escaping to the kitchen before any one could register horror. Even Aunt Chatty thought Rebecca Dew really had gone a little too far.

”I s'pose you saw old Alec Crowdy's death last week in the paper,” sighed Cousin Ernestine. "His wife died two years ago, lit'rally harried into her grave, poor creetur. They say he's been awful lonely since she died, but I'm afraid that's too good to be true.

And I'm afraid they're not through with their troubles with him yet, even if he is buried. I hear he wouldn't make a will and I'm afraid there'll be awful ructions over the estate. They say Annabel Crowdy is going to marry a jack-of-all-trades. Her mother's first husband was one, so mebbe it's heredit'ry.

Annabel's had a hard life of it, but I'm afraid she'll find it's out of the frying-pan into the fire, even if it don't turn out he's got a wife already.”

”What is Jane Goldwin doing with herself this winter?" asked Aunt Kate. "She hasn't been in to town for a long time.”

”Ah, poor Jane! She's just pining away mysteriously. They don't know what's the matter with her, but I'm afraid it'll turn out to be an alibi. What is Rebecca Dew laughing like a hyenus out in the kitchen for? I'm afraid you'll have her on your hands yet.

There's an awful lot of weak minds among the Dews.”

”I see Thyra Cooper has a baby," said Aunt Chatty.

”Ah, yes, poor little soul. Only one, thank mercy. I was afraid it would be twins. Twins run so in the Coopers.”

”Thyra and Ned are such a nice young couple," said Aunt Kate, as if determined to salvage something from the wreck of the universe.

But Cousin Ernestine would not admit that there was any balm in Gilead much less in Lowvale.

”Ah, she was real thankful to git him at last. There was a time she was afraid he wouldn't come back from the west. I warned her.

'You may be sure he'll disappoint you,' I told her. 'He's always disappointed people. Every one expected him to die afore he was a year old, but you see he's alive yet.' When he bought the Holly place I warned her again. 'I'm afraid that well is full of typhoid,' I told her. 'The Holly hired man died of typhoid there five years ago.' They can't blame ME if anything happens. Joseph Holly has some misery in his back. He calls it lumbago, but I'm afraid it's the beginning of spinal meningitis.”

”Old Uncle Joseph Holly is one of the best men in the world," said Rebecca Dew, bringing in a replenished teapot.

”Ah, he's good," said Cousin Ernestine lugubriously. "Too good!

I'm afraid his sons will all go to the bad. You see it like that so often. Seems as if an average has to be struck. No, thank you, Kate, I won't have any more tea ... well, mebbe a macaroon. They don't lie heavy on the stomach, but I'm afraid I've et far too much. I must be taking French leave, for I'm afraid it'll be dark afore I git home. I don't want to git my feet wet; I'm so afraid of ammonia. I've had something traveling from my arm to my lower limbs all winter. Night after night I've laid awake with it.

Ah, nobody knows what I've gone through, but I ain't one of the complaining sort. I was determined I'd git up to see you once more, for I may not be here another spring. But you've both failed terrible, so you may go afore me yet. Ah well, it's best to go while there's some one of your own left to lay you out. Dear me, how the wind is gitting up! I'm afraid our barn roof will blow off if it comes to a gale. We've had so much wind this spring I'm afraid the climate is changing. Thank you, Miss Shirley ..." as Anne helped her into her coat ... "Be careful of yourself. You look awful washed out. I'm afraid people with red hair never have real strong constitutions.”

”I think my constitution is all right," smiled Anne, handing Cousin Ernestine an indescribable bit of millinery with a stringy ostrich feather dripping from its back. "I have a touch of sore throat tonight, Miss Bugle, that's all.”

”Ah!" Another of Cousin Ernestine's dark forebodings came to her.

"You want to watch a sore throat. The symptoms of diptheria and tonsillitis are exactly the same till the third day. But there's one consolation ... you'll be spared an awful lot of trouble if you die young.”

”Tower Room,

”Windy Poplars,

”April 20th.

”POOR DEAR GILBERT:

”'I said of laughter, it is mad, and of mirth, what doeth it?' I'm afraid I'll turn gray young ... I'm afraid I'll end up in the poorhouse ... I'm afraid none of my pupils will pass their finals ... Mr. Hamilton's dog barked at me Saturday night and I'm afraid I'll have hydrophobia ... I'm afraid my umbrella will turn inside out when I keep a tryst with Katherine tonight ... I'm afraid Katherine likes me so much now that she can't always like me as much ... I'm afraid my hair isn't auburn after all ... I'm afraid I'll have a mole on the end of my nose when I'm fifty ... I'm afraid my school is a fire-trap ... I'm afraid I'll find a mouse in my bed tonight ... I'm afraid you got engaged to me just because I was always around ... I'm afraid I'll soon be picking at the counterpane.

”No, dearest, I'm not crazy ... not yet. It's only that Cousin Ernestine Bugle is catching.

”I know now why Rebecca Dew has always called her 'Miss Much- afraid.' The poor soul has borrowed so much trouble, she must be hopelessly in debt to fate.

”There are so many Bugles in the world ... not many quite so far gone in Buglism as Cousin Ernestine, perhaps, but so many kill- joys, afraid to enjoy today because of what tomorrow will bring.

”Gilbert darling, don't let's ever be afraid of things. It's such dreadful slavery. Let's be daring and adventurous and expectant.

Let's dance to meet life and all it can bring to us, even if it brings scads of trouble and typhoid and twins!

”Today has been a day dropped out of June into April. The snow is all gone and the fawn meadows and golden hills just sing of spring.

I know I heard Pan piping in the little green hollow in my maple bush and my Storm King was bannered with the airiest of purple hazes. We've had a great deal of rain lately and I've loved sitting in my tower in the still, wet hours of the spring twilights. But tonight is a gusty, hurrying night ... even the clouds racing over the sky are in a hurry and the moonlight that gushes out between them is in a hurry to flood the world.

”Suppose, Gilbert, we were walking hand in hand down one of the long roads in Avonlea tonight!

”Gilbert, I'm afraid I'm scandalously in love with you. You don't think it's irreverent, do you? But then, you're not a minister.”

”I'm SO different," sighed Hazel.

It was really dreadful to be so different from other people ... and yet rather wonderful, too, as if you were a being strayed from another star. Hazel would not have been one of the common herd for ANYTHING ... no matter what she suffered by reason of her differentness.