Produced by Sheila Perkins. HTML version by Al Haines
Rilla of Ingleside
by
Lucy Maud Montgomery
CONTENTS
I GLEN "NOTES" AND OTHER MATTERS II DEW OF MORNING III MOONLIT MIRTH IV THE PIPER PIPES V "THE SOUND OF A GOING" VI SUSAN, RILLA, AND DOG MONDAY MAKE A RESOLUTION VII A WAR-BABY AND A SOUP TUREEN VIII RILLA DECIDES IX DOC HAS A MISADVENTURE X THE TROUBLES OF RILLA XI DARK AND BRIGHT XII IN THE DAYS OF LANGEMARCK XIII A SLICE OF HUMBLE PIE XIV THE VALLEY OF DECISION XV UNTIL THE DAY BREAK XVI REALISM AND ROMANCE XVII THE WEEKS WEAR BY XVIII A WAR-WEDDING XIX "THEY SHALL NOT PASS" XX NORMAN DOUGLAS SPEAKS OUT IN MEETING XXI "LOVE AFFAIRS ARE HORRIBLE" XXII LITTLE DOG MONDAY KNOWS XXIII "AND SO, GOODNIGHT" XXIV MARY IS JUST IN TIME XXV SHIRLEY GOES XXVI SUSAN HAS A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE XXVII WAITING XXVIII BLACK SUNDAY XXIX "WOUNDED AND MISSING" XXX THE TURNING OF THE TIDE XXXI MRS. MATILDA PITTMAN XXXII WORD FROM JEM XXXIII VICTORY! XXXIV MR. HYDE GOES TO HIS OWN PLACE AND SUSAN TAKES A HONEYMOON XXXV "RILLA-MY-RILLA!"
CHAPTER I
GLEN "NOTES" AND OTHER MATTERS
It was a warm, golden-cloudy, lovable afternoon. In the big living-roomat Ingleside Susan Baker sat down with a certain grim satisfactionhovering about her like an aura; it was four o'clock and Susan, who hadbeen working incessantly since six that morning, felt that she hadfairly earned an hour of repose and gossip. Susan just then wasperfectly happy; everything had gone almost uncannily well in thekitchen that day. Dr. Jekyll had not been Mr. Hyde and so had notgrated on her nerves; from where she sat she could see the pride of herheart--the bed of peonies of her own planting and culture, blooming asno other peony plot in Glen St. Mary ever did or could bloom, withpeonies crimson, peonies silvery pink, peonies white as drifts ofwinter snow.
Susan had on a new black silk blouse, quite as elaborate as anythingMrs. Marshall Elliott ever wore, and a white starched apron, trimmedwith complicated crocheted lace fully five inches wide, not to mentioninsertion to match. Therefore Susan had all the comfortableconsciousness of a well-dressed woman as she opened her copy of theDaily Enterprise and prepared to read the Glen "Notes" which, as MissCornelia had just informed her, filled half a column of it andmentioned almost everybody at Ingleside. There was a big, blackheadline on the front page of the Enterprise, stating that someArchduke Ferdinand or other had been assassinated at a place bearingthe weird name of Sarajevo, but Susan tarried not over uninteresting,immaterial stuff like that; she was in quest of something really vital.Oh, here it was--"Jottings from Glen St. Mary." Susan settled downkeenly, reading each one over aloud to extract all possiblegratification from it.
Mrs. Blythe and her visitor, Miss Cornelia--alias Mrs. MarshallElliott--were chatting together near the open door that led to theveranda, through which a cool, delicious breeze was blowing, bringingwhiffs of phantom perfume from the garden, and charming gay echoes fromthe vine-hung corner where Rilla and Miss Oliver and Walter werelaughing and talking. Wherever Rilla Blythe was, there was laughter.
There was another occupant of the living-room, curled up on a couch,who must not be overlooked, since he was a creature of markedindividuality, and, moreover, had the distinction of being the onlyliving thing whom Susan really hated.
All cats are mysterious but Dr. Jekyll-and-Mr. Hyde--"Doc" forshort--was trebly so. He was a cat of double personality--or else, asSusan vowed, he was possessed by the devil. To begin with, there hadbeen something uncanny about the very dawn of his existence. Four yearspreviously Rilla Blythe had had a treasured darling of a kitten, whiteas snow, with a saucy black tip to its tail, which she called JackFrost. Susan disliked Jack Frost, though she could not or would notgive any valid reason therefor.
"Take my word for it, Mrs. Dr. dear," she was wont to say ominously,"that cat will come to no good."
"But why do you think so?" Mrs. Blythe would ask.
"I do not think--I know," was all the answer Susan would vouchsafe.
With the rest of the Ingleside folk Jack Frost was a favourite; he wasso very clean and well groomed, and never allowed a spot or stain to beseen on his beautiful white suit; he had endearing ways of purring andsnuggling; he was scrupulously honest.
And then a domestic tragedy took place at Ingleside. Jack Frost hadkittens!
It would be vain to try to picture Susan's triumph. Had she not alwaysinsisted that that cat would turn out to be a delusion and a snare? Nowthey could see for themselves!
Rilla kept one of the kittens, a very pretty one, with peculiarly sleekglossy fur of a dark yellow crossed by orange stripes, and large,satiny, golden ears. She called it Goldie and the name seemedappropriate enough to the little frolicsome creature which, during itskittenhood, gave no indication of the sinister nature it reallypossessed. Susan, of course, warned the family that no good could beexpected from any offspring of that diabolical Jack Frost; but Susan'sCassandra-like croakings were unheeded.
The Blythes had been so accustomed to regard Jack Frost as a member ofthe male sex that they could not get out of the habit. So theycontinually used the masculine pronoun, although the result wasludicrous. Visitors used to be quite electrified when Rilla referredcasually to "Jack and his kitten," or told Goldie sternly, "Go to yourmother and get him to wash your fur."
"It is not decent, Mrs. Dr. dear," poor Susan would say bitterly. Sheherself compromised by always referring to Jack as "it" or "the whitebeast," and one heart at least did not ache when "it" was accidentallypoisoned the following winter.
In a year's time "Goldie" became so manifestly an inadequate name forthe orange kitten that Walter, who was just then reading Stevenson'sstory, changed it to Dr. Jekyll-and-Mr. Hyde. In his Dr. Jekyll moodthe cat was a drowsy, affectionate, domestic, cushion-loving puss, wholiked petting and gloried in being nursed and patted. Especially did helove to lie on his back and have his sleek, cream-coloured throatstroked gently while he purred in somnolent satisfaction. He was anotable purrer; never had there been an Ingleside cat who purred soconstantly and so ecstatically.
"The only thing I envy a cat is its purr," remarked Dr. Blythe once,listening to Doc's resonant melody. "It is the most contented sound inthe world."
Doc was very handsome; his every movement was grace; his posesmagnificent. When he folded his long, dusky-ringed tail about his feetand sat him down on the veranda to gaze steadily into space for longintervals the Blythes felt that an Egyptian sphinx could not have madea more fitting Deity of the Portal.
When the Mr. Hyde mood came upon him--which it invariably did beforerain, or wind--he was a wild thing with changed eyes. Thetransformation always came suddenly. He would spring fiercely from areverie with a savage snarl and bite at any restraining or caressinghand. His fur seemed to grow darker and his eyes gleamed with adiabolical light. There was really an unearthly beauty about him. Ifthe change happened in the twilight all the Ingleside folk felt acertain terror of him. At such times he was a fearsome beast and onlyRilla defended him, asserting that he was "such a nice prowly cat."Certainly he prowled.
Dr. Jekyll loved new milk; Mr. Hyde would not touch milk and growledover his meat. Dr. Jekyll came down the stairs so silently that no onecould hear him. Mr. Hyde made his tread as heavy as a man's. Severalevenings, when Susan was alone in the house, he "scared her stiff," asshe declared, by doing this. He would sit in the middle of the kitchenfloor, with his terrible eyes fixed unwinkingly upon hers for an hourat a time. This played havoc with her nerves, but poor Susan reallyheld him in too much awe to try to drive him out. Once she had dared tothrow a stick at him and he had promptly made a savage leap towardsher. Susan rushed out of doors an
d never attempted to meddle with Mr.Hyde again--though she visited his misdeeds upon the innocent Dr.Jekyll, chasing him ignominiously out of her domain whenever he daredto poke his nose in and denying him certain savoury tidbits for whichhe yearned.
"'The many friends of Miss Faith Meredith, Gerald Meredith and JamesBlythe,'" read Susan, rolling the names like sweet morsels under hertongue, "'were very much pleased to welcome them home a few weeks agofrom Redmond College. James Blythe, who was graduated in Arts in 1913,had just completed his first year in medicine.'"
"Faith Meredith has really got to be the most handsomest creature Iever saw," commented Miss Cornelia above her filet crochet. "It'samazing how those children came on after Rosemary West went to themanse. People have almost forgotten what imps of mischief they wereonce. Anne, dearie, will you ever forget the way they used to carry on?It's really surprising how well Rosemary got on with them. She's morelike a chum than a step-mother. They all love her and Una adores her.As for that little Bruce, Una just makes a perfect slave of herself tohim. Of course, he is a darling. But did you ever see any child look asmuch like an aunt as he looks like his Aunt Ellen? He's just as darkand just as emphatic. I can't see a feature of Rosemary in him. NormanDouglas always vows at the top of his voice that the stork meant Brucefor him and Ellen and took him to the manse by mistake."
"Bruce adores Jem," said Mrs Blythe. "When he comes over here hefollows Jem about silently like a faithful little dog, looking up athim from under his black brows. He would do anything for Jem, I verilybelieve."
"Are Jem and Faith going to make a match of it?"
Mrs. Blythe smiled. It was well known that Miss Cornelia, who had beensuch a virulent man-hater at one time, had actually taken tomatch-making in her declining years.
"They are only good friends yet, Miss Cornelia."
"Very good friends, believe me," said Miss Cornelia emphatically. "Ihear all about the doings of the young fry."
"I have no doubt that Mary Vance sees that you do, Mrs. MarshallElliott," said Susan significantly, "but I think it is a shame to talkabout children making matches."
"Children! Jem is twenty-one and Faith is nineteen," retorted MissCornelia. "You must not forget, Susan, that we old folks are not theonly grown-up people in the world."
Outraged Susan, who detested any reference to her age--not from vanitybut from a haunting dread that people might come to think her too oldto work--returned to her "Notes."
"'Carl Meredith and Shirley Blythe came home last Friday evening fromQueen's Academy. We understand that Carl will be in charge of theschool at Harbour Head next year and we are sure he will be a popularand successful teacher.'"
"He will teach the children all there is to know about bugs, anyhow,"said Miss Cornelia. "He is through with Queen's now and Mr. Meredithand Rosemary wanted him to go right on to Redmond in the fall, but Carlhas a very independent streak in him and means to earn part of his ownway through college. He'll be all the better for it."
"'Walter Blythe, who has been teaching for the past two years atLowbridge, has resigned,'" read Susan. "'He intends going to Redmondthis fall.'"
"Is Walter quite strong enough for Redmond yet?" queried Miss Corneliaanxiously.
"We hope that he will be by the fall," said Mrs. Blythe. "An idlesummer in the open air and sunshine will do a great deal for him."
"Typhoid is a hard thing to get over," said Miss Cornelia emphatically,"especially when one has had such a close shave as Walter had. I thinkhe'd do well to stay out of college another year. But then he's soambitious. Are Di and Nan going too?"
"Yes. They both wanted to teach another year but Gilbert thinks theyhad better go to Redmond this fall."
"I'm glad of that. They'll keep an eye on Walter and see that hedoesn't study too hard. I suppose," continued Miss Cornelia, with aside glance at Susan, "that after the snub I got a few minutes ago itwill not be safe for me to suggest that Jerry Meredith is makingsheep's eyes at Nan."
Susan ignored this and Mrs. Blythe laughed again.
"Dear Miss Cornelia, I have my hands full, haven't I?--with all theseboys and girls sweethearting around me? If I took it seriously it wouldquite crush me. But I don't--it is too hard yet to realize that they'regrown up. When I look at those two tall sons of mine I wonder if theycan possibly be the fat, sweet, dimpled babies I kissed and cuddled andsang to slumber the other day--only the other day, Miss Cornelia.Wasn't Jem the dearest baby in the old House of Dreams? and now he's aB.A. and accused of courting."
"We're all growing older," sighed Miss Cornelia.
"The only part of me that feels old," said Mrs. Blythe, "is the ankle Ibroke when Josie Pye dared me to walk the Barry ridge-pole in the GreenGables days. I have an ache in it when the wind is east. I won't admitthat it is rheumatism, but it does ache. As for the children, they andthe Merediths are planning a gay summer before they have to go back tostudies in the fall. They are such a fun-loving little crowd. They keepthis house in a perpetual whirl of merriment."
"Is Rilla going to Queen's when Shirley goes back?"
"It isn't decided yet. I rather fancy not. Her father thinks she is notquite strong enough--she has rather outgrown her strength--she's reallyabsurdly tall for a girl not yet fifteen. I am not anxious to have hergo--why, it would be terrible not to have a single one of my babieshome with me next winter. Susan and I would fall to fighting with eachother to break the monotony."
Susan smiled at this pleasantry. The idea of her fighting with "Mrs.Dr. dear!"
"Does Rilla herself want to go?" asked Miss Cornelia.
"No. The truth is, Rilla is the only one of my flock who isn'tambitious. I really wish she had a little more ambition. She has noserious ideals at all--her sole aspiration seems to be to have a goodtime."
"And why should she not have it, Mrs. Dr. dear?" cried Susan, who couldnot bear to hear a single word against anyone of the Ingleside folk,even from one of themselves. "A young girl should have a good time, andthat I will maintain. There will be time enough for her to think ofLatin and Greek."
"I should like to see a little sense of responsibility in her, Susan.And you know yourself that she is abominably vain."
"She has something to be vain about," retorted Susan. "She is theprettiest girl in Glen St. Mary. Do you think that all thoseover-harbour MacAllisters and Crawfords and Elliotts could scare up askin like Rilla's in four generations? They could not. No, Mrs. Dr.dear, I know my place but I cannot allow you to run down Rilla. Listento this, Mrs. Marshall Elliott."
Susan had found a chance to get square with Miss Cornelia for her digsat the children's love affairs. She read the item with gusto.
"'Miller Douglas has decided not to go West. He says old P.E.I. is goodenough for him and he will continue to farm for his aunt, Mrs. AlecDavis.'"
Susan looked keenly at Miss Cornelia.
"I have heard, Mrs. Marshall Elliott, that Miller is courting MaryVance."
This shot pierced Miss Cornelia's armour. Her sonsy face flushed.
"I won't have Miller Douglas hanging round Mary," she said crisply. "Hecomes of a low family. His father was a sort of outcast from theDouglases--they never really counted him in--and his mother was one ofthose terrible Dillons from the Harbour Head."
"I think I have heard, Mrs. Marshall Elliott, that Mary Vance's ownparents were not what you could call aristocratic."
"Mary Vance has had a good bringing up and she is a smart, clever,capable girl," retorted Miss Cornelia. "She is not going to throwherself away on Miller Douglas, believe me! She knows my opinion on thematter and Mary has never disobeyed me yet."
"Well, I do not think you need worry, Mrs. Marshall Elliott, for Mrs.Alec Davis is as much against it as you could be, and says no nephew ofhers is ever going to marry a nameless nobody like Mary Vance."
Susan returned to her mutton, feeling that she had got the best of itin this passage of arms, and read another "note."
"'We are pleased to hear that Miss Oliver has been engaged as teacherfor anothe
r year. Miss Oliver will spend her well-earned vacation ather home in Lowbridge.'"
"I'm so glad Gertrude is going to stay," said Mrs. Blythe. "We wouldmiss her horribly. And she has an excellent influence over Rilla whoworships her. They are chums, in spite of the difference in their ages."
"I thought I heard she was going to be married?"
"I believe it was talked of but I understand it is postponed for ayear."
"Who is the young man?"
"Robert Grant. He is a young lawyer in Charlottetown. I hope Gertrudewill be happy. She has had a sad life, with much bitterness in it, andshe feels things with a terrible keenness. Her first youth is gone andshe is practically alone in the world. This new love that has come intoher life seems such a wonderful thing to her that I think she hardlydares believe in its permanence. When her marriage had to be put offshe was quite in despair--though it certainly wasn't Mr. Grant's fault.There were complications in the settlement of his father's estate--hisfather died last winter--and he could not marry till the tangles wereunravelled. But I think Gertrude felt it was a bad omen and that herhappiness would somehow elude her yet."
"It does not do, Mrs. Dr. dear, to set your affections too much on aman," remarked Susan solemnly.
"Mr. Grant is quite as much in love with Gertrude as she is with him,Susan. It is not he whom she distrusts--it is fate. She has a littlemystic streak in her--I suppose some people would call hersuperstitious. She has an odd belief in dreams and we have not beenable to laugh it out of her. I must own, too, that some of herdreams--but there, it would not do to let Gilbert hear me hinting suchheresy. What have you found of much interest, Susan?"
Susan had given an exclamation.
"Listen to this, Mrs. Dr. dear. 'Mrs. Sophia Crawford has given up herhouse at Lowbridge and will make her home in future with her niece,Mrs. Albert Crawford.' Why that is my own cousin Sophia, Mrs. Dr. dear.We quarrelled when we were children over who should get a Sunday-schoolcard with the words 'God is Love,' wreathed in rosebuds, on it, andhave never spoken to each other since. And now she is coming to liveright across the road from us."
"You will have to make up the old quarrel, Susan. It will never do tobe at outs with your neighbours."
"Cousin Sophia began the quarrel, so she can begin the making up also,Mrs. Dr. dear," said Susan loftily. "If she does I hope I am a goodenough Christian to meet her half-way. She is not a cheerful person andhas been a wet blanket all her life. The last time I saw her, her facehad a thousand wrinkles--maybe more, maybe less--from worrying andforeboding. She howled dreadful at her first husband's funeral but shemarried again in less than a year. The next note, I see, describes thespecial service in our church last Sunday night and says thedecorations were very beautiful."
"Speaking of that reminds me that Mr. Pryor strongly disapproves offlowers in church," said Miss Cornelia. "I always said there would betrouble when that man moved here from Lowbridge. He should never havebeen put in as elder--it was a mistake and we shall live to rue it,believe me! I have heard that he has said that if the girls continue to'mess up the pulpit with weeds' that he will not go to church."
"The church got on very well before old Whiskers-on-the-moon came tothe Glen and it is my opinion it will get on without him after he isgone," said Susan.
"Who in the world ever gave him that ridiculous nickname?" asked Mrs.Blythe.
"Why, the Lowbridge boys have called him that ever since I canremember, Mrs. Dr. dear--I suppose because his face is so round andred, with that fringe of sandy whisker about it. It does not do foranyone to call him that in his hearing, though, and that you may tieto. But worse than his whiskers, Mrs. Dr. dear, he is a veryunreasonable man and has a great many queer ideas. He is an elder nowand they say he is very religious; but I can well remember the time,Mrs. Dr. dear, twenty years ago, when he was caught pasturing his cowin the Lowbridge graveyard. Yes, indeed, I have not forgotten that, andI always think of it when he is praying in meeting. Well, that is allthe notes and there is not much else in the paper of any importance. Inever take much interest in foreign parts. Who is this Archduke man whohas been murdered?"
"What does it matter to us?" asked Miss Cornelia, unaware of thehideous answer to her question which destiny was even then preparing."Somebody is always murdering or being murdered in those Balkan States.It's their normal condition and I don't really think that our papersought to print such shocking things. The Enterprise is getting far toosensational with its big headlines. Well, I must be getting home. No,Anne dearie, it's no use asking me to stay to supper. Marshall has gotto thinking that if I'm not home for a meal it's not worth eating--justlike a man. So off I go. Merciful goodness, Anne dearie, what is thematter with that cat? Is he having a fit?"--this, as Doc suddenlybounded to the rug at Miss Cornelia's feet, laid back his ears, sworeat her, and then disappeared with one fierce leap through the window.
"Oh, no. He's merely turning into Mr. Hyde--which means that we shallhave rain or high wind before morning. Doc is as good as a barometer."
"Well, I am thankful he has gone on the rampage outside this time andnot into my kitchen," said Susan. "And I am going out to see aboutsupper. With such a crowd as we have at Ingleside now it behooves us tothink about our meals betimes."