The Complete Novels of Lucy Maud Montgomery - 20 Titles in One Volume: Including Anne of Green Gables Series, Emily Starr Trilogy, The Blue Castle, The Story Girl & Pat of Silver Bush Series. Lucy Maud Montgomery
“And don’t you give me any more of your lip, Ivy Trent.”
“You have to be,” said Ivy stubbornly.
“You have to be,” said Geraldine.
Ivy glared at her.
“You just shut up, Geraldine Raymond!”
“I guess I can talk in my own yard,” said Geraldine.
“‘Course she can,” said Gerald. “And if you don’t shut up, Ivy Trent, I’ll just go over to your place and dig the eyes out of your doll.”
“My mother would spank you if you did,” cried Ivy.
“Oh, she would, would she? Well, do you know what my mother would do to her if she did? She’d just sock her on the nose.”
“Well, anyway, you’ve got to be my beau,” said Ivy, returning calmly to the vital subject.
“I’ll … I’ll duck your head in the rain-barrel,” yelled the maddened Gerald … “I’ll rub your face in an ant’s nest … I’ll … I’ll tear them bows and sash off you …” triumphantly, for this at least was feasible.
“Let’s do it,” squealed Geraldine.
They pounced like furies on the unfortunate Ivy, who kicked and shrieked and tried to bite but was no match for the two of them. Together they hauled her across the yard and into the woodshed, where her howls could not be heard.
“Hurry,” gasped Geraldine, “‘fore Miss Shirley comes out.”
No time was to be lost. Gerald held Ivy’s legs while Geraldine held her wrists with one hand and tore off her hair bow and shoulder bows and sash with the other.
“Let’s paint her legs,” shouted Gerald, his eyes falling on a couple of cans of paint left there by some workmen the previous week. “I’ll hold her and you paint her.”
Ivy shrieked vainly in despair. Her stockings were pulled down and in a few moments her legs were adorned with wide stripes of red and green paint. In the process a good deal of the paint got spattered over her embroidered dress and new boots. As a finishing touch they filled her curls with burrs.
She was a pitiful sight when they finally released her. The twins howled mirthfully as they looked at her. Long weeks of airs and condescensions from Ivy had been avenged.
“Now you go home,” said Gerald. “This’ll teach you to go ‘round telling people they have to be your beaus.”
“I’ll tell my mother,” wept Ivy. “I’ll go straight home and tell my mother on you, you horrid, horrid, hateful, ugly boy!”
“Don’t you call my brother ugly, you stuck-up thing,” cried Geraldine. “You and your shoulder bows! Here, take them with you. We don’t want them cluttering up our woodshed.”
Ivy, pursued by the bows, which Geraldine pelted after her, ran sobbing out of the yard and down the street.
“Quick … let’s sneak up the back stairs to the bathroom and clean up ‘fore Miss Shirley sees us,” gasped Geraldine.
Chapter IV
Mr. Grand had talked himself out and bowed himself away. Anne stood for a moment on the doorstone, wondering uneasily where her charges were. Up the street and in at the gate came a wrathful lady, leading a forlorn and still sobbing atom of humanity by the hand.
“Miss Shirley, where is Mrs. Raymond?” demanded Mrs. Trent.
“Mrs. Raymond is …”
“I insist on seeing Mrs. Raymond. She shall see with her own eyes what her children have done to poor, helpless, innocent Ivy. Look at her, Miss Shirley … just look at her!”
“Oh, Mrs. Trent … I’m so sorry! It is all my fault. Mrs. Raymond is away … and I promised to look after them … but Mr. Grand came …”
“No, it isn’t your fault, Miss Shirley. I don’t blame you. No one can cope with those diabolical children. The whole street knows them. If Mrs. Raymond isn’t here, there is no point in my remaining. I shall take my poor child home. But Mrs. Raymond shall hear of this … indeed she shall. Listen to that, Miss Shirley. Are they tearing each other limb from limb?”
“That” was a chorus of shrieks, howls and yells that came echoing down the stairs. Anne ran upwards. On the hall floor was a twisting, writhing, biting, tearing, scratching mass. Anne separated the furious twins with difficulty and, holding each firmly by a squirming shoulder, demanded the meaning of such behavior.
“She says I’ve got to be Ivy Trent’s beau,” snarled Gerald.
“So he has got to be,” screamed Geraldine.
“I won’t be!”
“You’ve got to be!”
“Children!” said Anne. Something in her tone quelled them. They looked at her and saw a Miss Shirley they had not seen before. For the first time in their young lives they felt the force of authority.
“You, Geraldine,” said Anne quietly, “will go to bed for two hours. You, Gerald, will spend the same length of time in the hall closet. Not a word. You have behaved abominably and you must take your punishment. Your mother left you in my charge and you will obey me.”
“Then punish us together,” said Geraldine, beginning to cry.
“Yes … you’ve no right to sep’rate us … we’ve never been sep’rated,” muttered Gerald.
“You will be now.” Anne was still very quiet. Meekly Geraldine took off her clothes and got into one of the cots in their room. Meekly Gerald entered the hall closet. It was a large airy closet with a window and a chair and nobody could have called the punishment an unduly severe one. Anne locked the door and sat down with a book by the hall window. At least, for two hours she would know a little peace of mind.
A peep at Geraldine a few minutes later showed her to be sound asleep, looking so lovely in her sleep that Anne almost repented her sternness. Well, a nap would be good for her, anyway. When she wakened she should be permitted to get up, even if the two hours had not expired.
At the end of an hour Geraldine was still sleeping. Gerald had been so quiet that Anne decided that he had taken his punishment like a man and might be forgiven. After all, Ivy Trent was a vain little monkey and had probably been very irritating.
Anne unlocked the closet door and opened it.
There was no Gerald in the closet. The window was open and the roof of the side porch was just beneath it. Anne’s lips tightened. She went downstairs and out into the yard. No sign of Gerald. She explored the woodshed and looked up and down the street. Still no sign.
She ran through the garden and through the gate into the lane that led through a patch of scrub woodland to the little pond in Mr. Robert Creedmore’s field. Gerald was happily poling himself about on it in the small flat Mr. Creedmore kept there. Just as Anne broke through the trees Gerald’s pole, which he had stuck rather deep in the mud, came away with unexpected ease at his third tug and Gerald promptly shot heels over head backward into the water.
Anne gave an involuntary shriek of dismay, but there was no real cause for alarm. The pond at its deepest would not come up to Gerald’s shoulders and where he had gone over, it was little deeper than his waist. He had somehow got on his feet and was standing there rather foolishly, with his aureole plastered drippingly down on his head, when Anne’s shriek was reechoed behind her, and Geraldine, in her nightgown, tore through the trees and out to the edge of the little wooden platform to which the flat was commonly