PAT OF SILVER BUSH & MISTRESS PAT (Complete Series). Люси Мод Монтгомери
walked home together so. The wind … the night … were friendly again. The dark boughs of the trees, tossing against the silver moonlit sky, were beautiful … the spicy, woodsy smells along the road delightful.
“Where does that road go?” asked Pat once as they passed an inviting path barred by moonlight and shadow.
“I don’t know but we’ll go and see some day,” said Jingle.
They were just like old, old friends.
And then the dear light of Silver Bush shining across the fields … the dear house overflowing with welcoming light. Pat could have cried with joy to see it again. Even if nobody would be very glad to see her back the house would.
“Thank you so much for coming home with me,” she said shyly at the gate of the kitchen yard. “I was so frightened.”
Then she added boldly … because she had heard Judy say a girl ought always to give a dacent feller a bite whin he had seen her home and Pat, for the credit of Silver Bush, wanted to do the proper thing …
“I wish you’d come and have dinner with us Monday. We’re going to have chickens because it’s Labour Day. Judy says she labours that day just the same as any day but she always celebrates it with a chicken dinner. Please come.”
“I’d like to,” said Jingle. “And I’m glad McGinty and I happened along when you were scared.”
“Is McGinty the name of your dog?” asked Pat, looking at it a little timidly. Snicklefritz and Uncle Tom’s old Bruno were all the dogs she was acquainted with.
“Yes. He’s the only friend I’ve got in the world,” said Jingle.
“Except me,” said Pat.
Jingle suddenly smiled. Even in the moonlight she saw that he had a nice smile.
“Except you,” he agreed.
Judy appeared at the open kitchen door, peering out.
“I must run,” said Pat hastily. “Monday then. Don’t forget. And bring McGinty, too. There’ll be some bones.”
“Now who was ye colloguing wid out there?” asked Judy curiously. “Sure and ye might av brought yer beau in and let’s give him the once-over. Not but that ye’re beginning a trifle young.”
“That wasn’t a beau, Judy,” cried Pat, scandalised at the bare idea. “That was just Jingle.”
“Hear at her. And who may Jingle be, if it’s not asking too much?”
“Hilary Gordon … and I was coming home alone … and I got lost … I was a little frightened, Judy … and he’s coming to dinner on Monday.”
“Oh, oh, it’s the fast worker ye are,” chuckled Judy, delighted that she had got something to tease Pat about … Pat who had never thought there was any boy in the world but Sidney.
But Pat was too happy to mind. She was home, in the bright kitchen of Silver Bush. The horror of that lonely road had ceased to be … had never been. It was really beautiful to come home at night … to step out of darkness into the light and warmth of home.
“Did ye save a piece of pie for me, Judy?”
“Oh, oh, that I did. Don’t I know the skimp males of the Bay Shore? Sure and it’s niver cut and come agin there. It’s more than a bit av pie I have for ye. What wud ye say now to a sausage and a baked pittaty?”
Over the supper Pat told Judy all about the day and her walk home.
“Think av the pluck av her, starting out alone like that on Shank’s mare,” said Judy, just as Pat had expected. That was the beauty of Judy. “Though I’m not saying it isn’t a good thing that Jingle-lad happened along whin he did. Mind ye ask the cratur over for a liddle bite now and agin. I knew ould Larry Gordon whin he lived on the Taylor farm beyant the store. He’s a skim milk man, that he is.”
Judy had several classifications of people who were not lavish. You were “saving” … which was commendable. You were “close” … which was on the border line. You were “near” … which was over it. You were “skim milk” … which was beyond the pale. But Judy could not resist giving Pat a sly dig.
“I s’pose me poor kitchen is very tame after the splendours av the Bay Shore farm?”
“Silver Bush kitchen is better than the Bay Shore parlour,” declared Pat: but she declared it drowsily. It had been a pretty full and strenuous day for eight years.
“Niver rub yer eyes wid innything but yer elbows, me jewel,” cautioned Judy, as she convoyed Pat upstairs.
Mother, who had been singing Cuddles to sleep, slipped in to ask Pat if she had had a good time.
“The Bay Shore farm is such a lovely place,” said Pat truthfully. It was a lovely place. And Pat wouldn’t hurt mother’s feelings for the world by confessing that her visit to mother’s old home had not been altogether pleasant. Mother loved Bay Shore almost as well as she, Pat, loved Silver Bush. Dear Silver Bush! Pat felt as if its arms were around her protectingly as she drifted into dreamland.
Chapter 11
Dinner is Served
1
Pat had a bad Sunday of it.
When she found that the old poplar had been cut down she mourned and would not be comforted.
“Look, me jewel, what a pretty bit av scenery ye can see between the hin-house and the church barn,” entreated Judy. “That bit av the South river, ye cud niver see it from here afore. Sure and here’s yer Sunday raisins for ye. Be ating thim now and stop fretting after an ould tree that wud better av been down tin years ago.”
Judy always gave every Silver Bush child a handful of raisins as a special treat for Sundays. Pat ate hers between sobs but it was not until evening that she would admit the newly revealed view was pretty. Then she sat at the round window and watched the silver loop of the river and another far blue hill, so far away that it must be on the very edge of the world. But still she missed the great, friendly, rustling greenness that had always filled that gap.
“I’ll never see the kittens chasing each other up that tree again, Judy,” she mourned. “They had such fun … they’d run out on that big bough and drop to the henhouse roof. Oh, Judy, I didn’t think trees ever got old.”
Monday morning she remembered that she had asked Jingle to dinner. Remembered it rather dubiously. Suppose he came in those awful trousers with part of one leg missing? She dared not, for fear of being teased, ask Judy to put anything extra on the table. But she was glad when she saw Judy putting on the silver knives and forks and the second best silver cream jug.
“Why all this splendour?” demanded Joe.
“Sure and isn’t Pat’s beau coming to dinner?” said Judy. “We must be after putting our best foot forward for the credit av the fam’ly.”
“Judy!” cried Pat furiously. Neither then nor in the years to come could she endure having any one call Jingle her beau. “He isn’t my beau! I’m never going to have a beau.”
“Niver’s a long day,” said Judy philosophically. “Ye’d better be shutting Snicklefritz up, Joe, for I understand the young man’s bringing his dog and we don’t want inny difference av opinion atween thim.”
Presently Jingle and McGinty were discerned, hanging about the yard gate, too shy to venture further. Pat ran out to welcome him. To her relief he wore a rather shabby but quite respectable suit, with legs of equal length. He was bare-legged, to be sure, but