Lucy Montgomery - Anne of Windy Poplars

”Gerald, are you drowned?" cried Geraldine. "Are you drowned, darling?”

”No ... no ... darling," Gerald assured her through his chattering teeth.

They embraced and kissed passionately.

”Children, come in here this minute," said Anne.

They waded to the shore. The September day, warm in the morning, had turned cold and windy in the late afternoon. They shivered terribly ... their faces were blue. Anne, without a word of censure, hurried them home, got off their wet clothes and got them into Mrs. Raymond's bed, with hot-water bottles at their feet.

They still continued to shiver. Had they got a chill? Were they headed for pneumonia?

”You should have taken better care of us, Miss Shirley," said Gerald, still chattering.

”'Course you should," said Geraldine.

A distracted Anne flew downstairs and telephoned for the doctor.

By the time he came the twins had got warm, and he assured Anne that they were in no danger. If they stayed in bed till tomorrow they would be all right.

He met Mrs. Raymond coming up from the station on the way back, and it was a pale, almost hysterical lady who presently rushed in.

”Oh, Miss Shirley, how COULD you have let my little treasures get into such danger!”

”That's just what we told her, Mother," chorused the twins.

”I trusted you ... I told you ...”

”I hardly see how I was to blame, Mrs. Raymond," said Anne, with eyes as cold as gray mist. "You will realize this, I think, when you are calmer. The children are quite all right ... I simply sent for the doctor as a precautionary measure. If Gerald and Geraldine had obeyed me, this would not have happened.”

”I thought a TEACHER would have a little authority over children,” said Mrs. Raymond bitterly.

”Over children perhaps ... but not young demons," thought Anne.

She said only,

”Since you are here, Mrs. Raymond, I think I will go home. I don't think I can be of any further service and I have some school work to do this evening.”

As one child the twins hurled themselves out of bed and flung their arms around her.

”I hope there'll be a funeral every week," cried Gerald. "'Cause I like you, Miss Shirley, and I hope you'll come and look after us every time Mother goes away.”

”So do I," said Geraldine.

”I like you ever so much better than Miss Prouty.”

”Oh, ever so much," said Geraldine.

”Will you put us in a story?" demanded Gerald.

”Oh, do," said Geraldine.

”I'm sure you MEANT well," said Mrs. Raymond tremulously.

”Thank you," said Anne icily, trying to detach the twins' clinging arMs. ”Oh, don't let's quarrel about it," begged Mrs. Raymond, her enormous eyes filling with tears. "I CAN'T endure quarreling with anybody.”

”Certainly not." Anne was at her stateliest and Anne COULD be very stately. "I don't think there is the slightest necessity for quarreling. I think Gerald and Geraldine have quite enjoyed the day, though I don't suppose poor little Ivy Trent did.”

Anne went home feeling years older.

”To think I ever thought Davy was mischievous," she reflected.

She found Rebecca in the twilight garden gathering late pansies.

”Rebecca Dew, I used to think the adage, 'Children should be seen and not heard,' entirely too harsh. But I see its points now.”

”My poor darling. I'll get you a nice supper," said Rebecca Dew. And did NOT say, "I told you so.”

(Extract from letter to Gilbert.)

”Mrs. Raymond came down last night and, with tears in her eyes, begged me to forgive her for her 'hasty behavior.' 'If you knew a mother's heart, Miss Shirley, you would not find it hard to forgive.'

”I didn't find it hard to forgive as it was ... there is really something about Mrs. Raymond I can't help liking and she was a duck about the Dramatic Club. Just the same I did NOT say, 'Any Saturday you want to be away, I'll look after your offspring.' One learns by experience ... even a person so incorrigibly optimistic and trustful as myself.

”I find that a certain section of Summerside society is at present very much exercised over the loves of Jarvis Morrow and Dovie Westcott ... who, as Rebecca Dew says, have been engaged for over a year but can't get any 'forrader.' Aunt Kate, who is a distant aunt of Dovie's ... to be exact, I think she's the aunt of a second cousin of Dovie's on the mother's side ... is deeply interested in the affair because she thinks Jarvis is such an excellent match for Dovie ... and also, I suspect, because she hates Franklin Westcott and would like to see him routed, horse, foot and artillery. Not that Aunt Kate would admit she 'hated' anybody, but Mrs. Franklin Westcott was a very dear girlhood friend of hers and Aunt Kate solemnly avers that he murdered her.

” I am interested in it, partly because I'm very fond of Jarvis and moderately fond of Dovie and partly, I begin to suspect, because I am an inveterate meddler in other people's business ... always with excellent intentions, of course.

”The situation is briefly this:--Franklin Westcott is a tall, somber, hard-bitten merchant, close and unsociable. He lives in a big, old-fashioned house called Elmcroft just outside the town on the upper harbor road. I have met him once or twice but really know very little about him, except that he has an uncanny habit of saying something and then going off into a long chuckle of soundless laughter. He has never gone to church since hymns came in and he insists on having all his windows open even in winter storms. I confess to a sneaking sympathy with him in this, but I am probably the only person in Summerside who would. He has got into the habit of being a leading citizen and nothing municipal dares to be done without his approval.

”His wife is dead. It is common report that she was a slave, unable to call her soul her own. Franklin told her, it is said, when he brought her home that he would be master.

”Dovie, whose real name is Sibyl, is his only child ... a very pretty, plump, lovable girl of nineteen, with a red mouth always falling a little open over her small white teeth, glints of chestnut in her brown hair, alluring blue eyes and sooty lashes so long you wonder if they can be real. Jen Pringle says it is her eyes Jarvis is really in love with. Jen and I have actually talked the affair over. Jarvis is her favorite cousin.

”(In passing, you wouldn't believe how fond Jen is of me ... and I of Jen. She's really the cutest thing.)

”Franklin Westcott has never allowed Dovie to have any beaus and when Jarvis Morrow began to 'pay her attention,' he forbade him the house and told Dovie there was to be no more 'running round with that fellow.' But the mischief had been done. Dovie and Jarvis were already fathoms deep in love.

”Everybody in town is in sympathy with the lovers. Franklin Westcott is really unreasonable. Jarvis is a successful young lawyer, of good family, with good prospects, and a very nice, decent lad in himself.

”'Nothing could be more suitable,' declares Rebecca Dew. 'Jarvis Morrow could have ANY girl he wanted in Summerside. Franklin Westcott has just made up his mind that Dovie is to be an old maid.

He wants to be sure of a housekeeper when Aunt Maggie dies.'

”'Isn't there any one who has any influence with him?' I asked.

”'Nobody can argue with Franklin Westcott. He's too sarcastical.

And if you get the better of him he throws a tantrum. I've never seen him in one of his tantrums but I've heard Miss Prouty describe how he acted one time she was there sewing. He got mad over something ... nobody knew what. He just grabbed everything in sight and flung it out of the window. Milton's poems went flying clean over the fence into George Clarke's lily pond. He's always kind of had a grudge at life. Miss Prouty says her mother told her that the yelps of him when he was born passed anything she ever heard. I suppose God has some reason for making men like that, but you'd wonder. No, I can't see any chance for Jarvis and Dovie unless they elope. It's a kind of low-down thing to do, though there's been a terrible lot of romantic nonsense talked about eloping. But this is a case where anybody would excuse it.'