The Complete Works of L M Montgomery, page 341
And then, as if it had been waiting for Judy’s words as a cue, the Jerusalem cherry showed what it could really do when it gave its mind to it. It seemed as if everything happened at once. Tillytuck, made sulkier still by Judy’s speech, opened the door and stalked furiously out into the rain. Uncle Tom’s wet, dripping Newfoundland, who had followed the Swallowfield folks over, dashed in. Just Dog simply couldn’t stand that, after being fallen on. He flew at the intruder. The two dogs rolled in a furry avalanche right against Pat who had started for the dining room door bearing a trayful of soup plates full of a delicious brew that Judy called chicken broth. Down went poor Pat in a frightful mêlée of dogs, broken plates and spilled soup. Hearing the din, every one, except Cousin Nicholas, rushed out of the dining room. Aunt Hazel’s two year old baby began to shriek piercingly. Aunt Edith took a heart attack on the spot. Judy Plum, for the first and only time in her life, lost her head but lost it to good purpose. She grabbed a huge pepper-pot from the dresser and hurled the contents full in the faces of the writhing, snarling dogs. It was effective. The Newfoundland tore loose, dashed wildly through the dining room, ruining Aunt Jessie’s new blue georgette dress as he collided with her, tore through the hall, tore upstairs, ran into a delicately papered pastel wall, tore down again, and escaped through the front door which Billy Madison had presence of mind enough to open for him. As for Just Dog, he had bolted through the cellar door, which had been left open, and struck the board shelf across the steps. Just Dog, shelf, three tin pails, two stewpans, and a dozen glass jars of Judy’s baked damson preserves all crashed down the cellar steps together!
It seemed that Pandemonium reigned at Silver Bush for the next quarter of an hour. Aunt Edith was gasping for breath and demanding a cold compress. She had to be taken upstairs by Aunt Barbara and ministered to.
“Excitement always brings on that pain in my heart,” she murmured piteously. “Judy Plum knows that.”
Uncle Tom and Uncle Brian were in kinks of laughter. Aunt Frances and Aunt Honor looked “This is not how things are done at the Bay Shore.” And poor Pat scrambled dizzily up from the floor, dripping with soup, crimson with shame and humiliation. It was Cuddles who saved the situation. Cuddles was superb. She didn’t lose her wits for a second.
“Everybody go back and sit down,” she ordered. “Buddy, stop yelling . . . stop it, I say! Pat, slip up and get into another dress. Judy, clean up the mess. There is plenty of soup left . . . Pat had only half the servings on the tray and Judy hid a potful away in the pantry. I’ll have it ready in a jacksniff. Shut the cellar door and keep that dog down there until he gets the pepper out of his eyes.”
Judy always declared she had never been as proud of any one at Silver Bush as she was of Cuddles at that time. But just at the moment poor Judy was feeling nothing but the bitterest humiliation. Never had such a shameful thing happened at Silver Bush. Wait till she got hold of Tillytuck! Wait till she could get her hands on that Jerusalem cherry.
In a surprisingly short time the guests were back at the table, where Cousin Nicholas had been placidly eating crackers through all the hullabaloo. Cuddles and Judy between them served the soup. Pat came down, clothed and in her right mind once more. Two cats, whose nervous systems had been shattered, fled to the peace and calm of Judy’s kitchen chamber. The Jerusalem cherry bided its time. The goose-duck-turkey course was a grand success and Judy’s raisin gravy was acclaimed the last word in gravies. The dessert was amazing, though Cousin Nicholas did manage to upset a jug of sauce over the tablecloth. Judy came in and calmly mopped it up. Judy had got her second wind now and was prepared for anything.
Pat sat down for the dessert and there was laughter. People were to seek Pat from birth till death because she gave them the gift of laughter. Though she had secret worry gnawing at her heart. Aunt Jessie had eaten only three spoonfuls of her pudding! Wasn’t it good? And Winnie . . . somehow . . . wasn’t looking just right. She had suddenly become very quiet and rather pale.
To Judy’s thankfulness the cracked chair lasted the dinner out, though it creaked alarmingly every time Uncle Brian moved. Then came “the grand dish-washing,” as Judy called it, in the kitchen. Judy and Pat and Cuddles tackled it gaily. Things weren’t so bad, after all. The guests were enjoying a good clan pi-jaw in the Big Parlour and the children were sitting around Tillytuck in the Little Parlour, looking up fascinated, while he told them stories. “Tarrible lies,” Judy vowed they were. But then Tillytuck had once said, “What a dull fellow I’d be if I never told anything but the truth.” Anyhow, he was keeping “the young ones” quiet and that was something.
7
The dishes disposed of, Pat and Judy began to think of the supper. Judy determinedly set the Jerusalem cherry on the side-board and hid the slim chair in the hall closet. A fresh cloth . . . the one with daisies woven in it . . . was brought out and Pat began to feel cheered up. After all, the guests were enjoying themselves and that was the main thing. Even Aunt Edith had come down, pale and heroic and forgiving. Just dog crawled out of the cellar and coiled himself up in his own corner. Silver Bush rang with gay voices, firelight shimmered over pretty dishes, delicious things were brought from pantry and cellar: and Pat thought proudly that the supper table, with its lighted candles, looked even prettier than the dinner table. And its circle of faces was happy and wise and kind.
“What’s the matter with Win?” asked Cuddles, who had decided to help wait with Judy and Pat and have her supper with them in the kitchen later on. “She’s yellow and pea-green . . . is she sick?”
On the very heels of her question Frank came out hurriedly and whispered something to Pat who gave an ejaculation of dismay.
“I didn’t think it wise for her to come,” said Frank. “But she was so anxious to . . . and you know . . . we didn’t expect . . . this . . . for two weeks.”
Pat pushed him aside and ran to the telephone. Confusion reigned again at Silver Bush. Winnie was being taken upstairs to the Poet’s room. Pat and Judy were dashing madly from place to place. Mother couldn’t stay at the table. Cuddles was left to wait on it alone and did it well. As Tillytuck was wont to aver, she had her head screwed on right. But it was a rather flat meal. No laughter. And nobody had much appetite now, except Cousin Nicholas. A doctor and a nurse arrived in the pouring rain and as soon as possible the guests departed . . . except Cousin Nicholas, who hadn’t caught on to the situation at all and announced his intention of staying a few days at Silver Bush.
As soon as they had gone, Judy, with a set face, marched into the dining room and carried the Jerusalem cherry out to Tillytuck, uncorking the vials of her wrath.
“Take this thing out av the house immajetly if not sooner, Josiah Tillytuck. It’s done enough harm already and now, wid what’s ixpicted upstairs, I’m not having it here one minute longer.”
Tillytuck obeyed humbly. What was the use of being peevish with the women?
A strange quiet fell over Silver Bush . . . an expectant quiet. The supper dishes were washed and put away and Judy and Pat and Cuddles sat down before the kitchen fire to wait . . . and eat russet apples in place of their forgotten supper. Their irrepressible gaiety was beginning to bubble up in spite of everything. After all, it was something to get a good laugh.
Tillytuck was smoking in his corner with Just Dog at his feet. McGinty was as near Pat as he could get and Bold-and-Bad and Squedunk ventured downstairs. Dad and Cousin Nicholas were raking over clan history in the Little Parlour. Sid was reading a murder mystery in the dining-room. Things seemed quite normal again . . . were it not for muted sounds overhead and the occasional visits of the white-capped nurse to the kitchen.
“Oh, oh, what a day!” sighed Judy.
“It’s been dreadful,” assented Pat, “but it will be a story to laugh at some day. That is why things don’t always go smoothly I suppose. There’d be no interesting history. I only wish Hilary had been here to-day. I must write him a full account of it. What a sight I must have been, drowned in soup and dogs! Well, eight of our good soup plates go to the dump and the slim chair is done for . . . and we’ll have no damson preserves till next fall . . . but after all, that’s all the real damage.”
“I’m hoping it may be,” said Judy, with an ear cocked ceilingward. “What did ye do wid yer cherry, Tillytuck? If ye put it in the granary the place’ll burn down to-night.”
“I hove it into the pig-pen,” said Tillytuck sourly.
“Oh, oh, God hilp the poor pigs thin,” retorted Judy.
“I’ll never forget Aunt Frances’ face,” giggled Cuddles.
“Oh, oh, Aunt Frances, is it? Niver be minding her, Cuddles dear. Things have happened at the Bay Shore, too. Don’t I be minding one time I was over there hilping them out at a big time and whin yer Aunt Frances was jist in the act av setting a big bowl of red currant preserves on the table she did be giving the awfullest yell ye iver heard and falling over backward wid the bowl. Talk av soup! She did be looking as if she was lying murdered in her blood. At first ivery one thought she’d had a fit. But whin they come to find out a wee divil av a b’y had slipped down under the table and grabbed holt av her leg. Oh, oh, minny’s the time I’ve laughed over it. Her dress was clane ruint, and her timper . . . Pasty darlint!”
“Judy . . . What is it?”
“Oh, oh, nothing much,” said Judy in a despairing tone. “Only I niver rimimbered to put me dress-up dress on after all! It wint clare out av me head after the dog-fight . . . and me puddling round afore all the company in me old drugget.”
“Never mind, Judy,” comforted Pat, seeing Judy was really upset. “Nobody would notice it. And you might have got spots on it and then what about Castle McDermott?”
“Yer Aunt Edith wud be thinking I’d nothing but drugget to wear,” groaned Judy. “Though she hadn’t got all the basting thrids out of her own dress, if ye noticed. It’s meself isn’t used to dog-fights in me kitchen” . . . with a malevolent glance at Tillytuck. “It’s minny a year since I saw one . . . the last was in South Glin church all av tin years ago. Oh, oh, that was a tommyshaw! Billy Gardiner always brought his dog to church. It was be way av being winked at for iverybody knew poor Billy was only half there, and they did be setting in a back pew, the dog behaving himself fine, though he did be giving a tarrible howl whin a lady visitor from town got up one day to sing a solo. Sure, nobody blamed the dog. But this day I’m telling ye av, another dog wandered in, the door being open, and Billy’s dog wint for him. The strange dog flew up the aisle wid Billy’s dog after him. He was caught jist under the pulpit! Oh, oh!” Judy rocked with laughter at the recollection, forgetful of her unworn splendors.
“What did they do, Judy?”
“Do, is it? Elder Jimmy Gardiner and Elder Tom Robinson aich grabbed a dog and carried it out be the scruff av the neck. Picture to yersilves, girls dear . . . a solemn ould elder wid a long beard and a most unchristian ixpression walking down the aisle, one on one side av the church and one on the other, houlding a dog at arm’s length.”
“Ah,” said Tillytuck, “I was in the church that day. I remember it well.”
This was too much for Judy. She got up and went into the pantry. Sid came out to say that Cousin Nicholas wished to go to bed and wanted a hot water bottle to take with him. Pat convoyed him to the spare room. Tillytuck, realising that he was out of favour, went off to the granary.
Pat had just come down when there was a knock at the door. Who on earth could it be at this time of night? Cuddles opened it . . . and in out of the starless dripping night stepped Joe! Captain Joe, tall and bronzed and changed, after years of typhoons on China seas, but unmistakably Joe.
“Flew here,” said Joe laconically. “Flew from Halifax. Got into Charlottetown at dusk and hired a motor to bring me out. Thought I’d make it in time for supper anyhow. Everything happened to that car that could happen . . . and finally a broken axle. Nevertheless, here I am . . . and why are you all up as late and looking so solemn?”
Pat told him. Joe whistled.
“Not little Winnie! Why, I always think of her as a kid herself. What a night for the stork to fly! Anything in the pantry, Judy?”
His old grin robbed the question of insult. Joe knew there would be something in the pantry. Judy had a whole turkey stowed away, as well as the pot of soup. By the time mother had come down and hugged Joe and hurried anxiously back upstairs Judy had another table spread and they all sat down to it, even forgiven Tillytuck, whom Cuddles haled in from the granary.
“Ah, this is worth coming home for,” said Joe. “Cuddles, you’re almost grown up. Any beau yet, Pat?”
“Oh, oh, ye’d better be asking her that,” said Judy. “Don’t ye think it’s time we had another widding at Silver Bush? She snubbed Elmer Moody last wake so bad he wint off vowing he’d niver set foot in Silver Bush agin.”
“He breathes through his mouth,” said Pat airily.
“Listen at her. Some fault to find wid ivery one av the poor b’ys. And what about yersilf, Joe? Do ye be coming home to find a wife?”
Joe blushed surprisingly. Pat only half liked it. She had heard rumours of several girls Captain Joe had been writing to occasionally. None of them were quite good enough for Joe. But it was the old story . . . change . . . change. Pat hated change so. And little, cool, unexpected breaths of it were always blowing across everything, even the jolliest of times, bringing a chill of foreboding.
“And you’re not tattooed after all, Joe,” said Cuddles, half disappointedly.
“Only my hands,” said Joe, displaying a blue anchor on one and his own initials on the other.
“Will you tattoo mine on mine?” asked Cuddles eagerly.
Before Joe could answer an indignant old man suddenly erupted into the kitchen, wrapped in a dressing gown. It was Cousin Nicholas and Cousin Nicholas was distinctly in a temper.
“Cats!” he snarled. “Cats! I had just fallen into a refreshing slumber when a huge cat jumped on my stomach . . . on my stomach, mark you. I detest cats.”
“It . . . must have been Bold-and-Bad,” gasped Pat. “He does so love to get into the spare room bed. I’m so sorry, Cousin Nicholas . . .”
“Sorry, miss! I never can get to sleep again after I am once wakened up. Will your sorrow cure that? I came down to ask you to find that cat and secure him. I don’t know where the beast is . . . probably under the bed, plotting more devilment.”
“Peevish . . . very peevish,” muttered Tillytuck quite audibly. Cuddles meowed and Cousin Nicholas glared at her.
“The manners of Silver Bush are not what they were in my day,” he said crushingly. “I had a very hard time to get to sleep at all. There was too much going and coming upstairs. Is anybody sick?”
“Yes . . . but it don’t be catching,” said Judy reassuringly.
Pat, trying not to laugh, hurried upstairs and discovered Bold-and-Bad crouching in the corner of the hall, evidently trying to figure out how many lives he had left. For once in his life Bold-and-Bad was cowed. Pat carried him down and shut him up in the back porch, not without a pat or two . . . for she was not overly attracted to Cousin Nicholas.
That irate gentleman was finally persuaded to go back to bed. Evidently some idea of what was going on had filtered through his aged brain, for, as Pat assisted his somewhat shaky steps up the stairs, he whispered,
“Mebbe I shouldn’t mention it to a young girl like you . . . but is it a baby?”
Pat nodded.
“Ah, then,” said Cousin Nicholas, peering suspiciously about him, “you’d better watch that cat. Cats suck babies’ breaths.”
“What an opinion our Cousin Nicholas will have of Silver Bush,” said Pat, half mournfully, half laughingly, when she returned to the kitchen. “Even our cats and dogs can’t behave. And you, Cuddles . . . I’m ashamed of you. Whatever made you meow at him?”
“I wasn’t meowing at him,” said Cuddles gravely. “I was just meowing.”
“Oh, oh, ye naden’t be worrying over what ould Nicholas Gardiner thinks av our animals,” sniffed Judy. “I wasn’t saying innything before for he’s your cousin and whin all is said and done blood do be thicker than water. But did ye iver hear how me fine Nicholas got his start in life? Whin his liddle baby brother died ould Nicholas . . . only he was jist eliven thin . . . earned fifty cents be letting all the neighbourhood children in to see the wee dead body in the casket for a cint apace. That did be the foundation av his fortunes. He turned that fifty cints over and over, it growing wid ivery turn, and niver a bad spec did he make.”
“Judy, is that really true? I mean . . . haven’t you mixed up Cousin Nicholas with some one else?”
“Niver a bit av it. The Gardiners don’t all be angels, me jewel. Sure and that story was laughed over in the clan for years. Aven his mother laughed wid the bist av thim. She was a Bowman and he got his quare ways from her. So he’s more to be pitied than laughed at.”
“Yes, indeed,” agreed Pat. “Think of never knowing the delight of loving a nice, prowly, velvety cat.”
“He’s awfully rich though, isn’t he?” said Cuddles.
“Oh, oh, wid one kind av riches, Cuddles darlint. But it’s better to be poor and fale rich than to be rich and fale poor. Hark!”
Judy suddenly held up her hand.
“What’s that?”
“Sounds like a cat on the porch roof,” said Sid.
Pat dashed upstairs, returning in a few minutes flushed with excitement.
“Come here, Aunt Cuddles,” she laughed.
8
Joe and Sid and dad went to bed. Tillytuck, mildly remarking that he had had enough passionate scenes for one day, betook himself to the granary. But Pat and Cuddles and Judy decided to make a night of it. It was three now. They sat around the fire and lived over that fateful Christmas Day. They roared with laughter over the look of Cousin Nicholas.
