The Complete Short Stories of Lucy Maud Montgomery. Lucy Maud Montgomery

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      The Courting of Prissy Strong

      Table of Contents

      I WASN’T able to go to prayer meeting that evening because I had neuralgia in my face; but Thomas went, and the minute he came home I knew by the twinkle in his eye that he had some news.

      “Who do you s’pose Stephen Clark went home with from meeting tonight?” he said, chuckling.

      “Jane Miranda Blair,” I said promptly. Stephen Clark’s wife had been dead for two years and he hadn’t taken much notice of anybody, so far as was known. But Carmody had Jane Miranda all ready for him, and really I don’t know why she didn’t suit him, except for the reason that a man never does what he is expected to do when it comes to marrying.

      Thomas chuckled again.

      “Wrong. He stepped up to Prissy Strong and walked off with her. Cold soup warmed over.”

      “Prissy Strong!” I just held up my hands. Then I laughed. “He needn’t try for Prissy,” I said. “Emmeline nipped that in the bud twenty years ago, and she’ll do it again.”

      “Em’line is an old crank,” growled Thomas. He detested Emmeline Strong, and always did.

      “She’s that, all right,” I agreed, “and that is just the reason she can turn poor Prissy any way she likes. You mark my words, she’ll put her foot right down on this as soon as she finds it out.”

      Thomas said that I was probably right. I lay awake for a long time after I went to bed that night, thinking of Prissy and Stephen. As a general rule, I don’t concern my head about other people’s affairs, but Prissy was such a helpless creature I couldn’t get her off my mind.

      Twenty years ago Stephen Clark had tried to go with Prissy Strong. That was pretty soon after Prissy’s father had died. She and Emmeline were living alone together. Emmeline was thirty, ten years older than Prissy, and if ever there were two sisters totally different from each other in every way, those two were Emmeline and Prissy Strong.

      Emmeline took after her father; she was big and dark and homely, and she was the most domineering creature that ever stepped on shoe leather. She simply ruled poor Prissy with a rod of iron.

      Prissy herself was a pretty girl — at least most people thought so. I can’t honestly say I ever admired her style much myself. I like something with more vim and snap to it. Prissy was slim and pink, with soft, appealing blue eyes, and pale gold hair all clinging in baby rings around her face. She was just as meek and timid as she looked and there wasn’t a bit of harm in her. I always liked Prissy, even if I didn’t admire her looks as much as some people did.

      Anyway, it was plain her style suited Stephen Clark. He began to drive her, and there wasn’t a speck of doubt that Prissy liked him. Then Emmeline just put a stopper on the affair. It was pure cantankerousness in her. Stephen was a good match and nothing could be said against him. But Emmeline was just determined that Prissy shouldn’t marry. She couldn’t get married herself, and she was sore enough about it.

      Of course, if Prissy had had a spark of spirit she wouldn’t have given in. But she hadn’t a mite; I believe she would have cut off her nose if Emmeline had ordered her to do it. She was just her mother over again. If ever a girl belied her name, Prissy Strong did. There wasn’t anything strong about her.

      One night, when prayer meeting came out, Stephen stepped up to Prissy as usual and asked if he might see her home. Thomas and I were just behind — we weren’t married ourselves then — and we heard it all. Prissy gave one scared, appealing look at Emmeline and then said, “No, thank you, not tonight.”

      Stephen just turned on his heel and went. He was a high-spirited fellow and I knew he would never overlook a public slight like that. If he had had as much sense as he ought to have had he would have known that Emmeline was at the bottom of it; but he didn’t, and he began going to see Althea Gillis, and they were married the next year. Althea was a rather nice girl, though giddy, and I think she and Stephen were happy enough together. In real life things are often like that.

      Nobody ever tried to go with Prissy again. I suppose they were afraid of Emmeline. Prissy’s beauty soon faded. She was always kind of sweet looking, but her bloom went, and she got shyer and limper every year of her life. She wouldn’t have dared put on her second best dress without asking Emmeline’s permission. She was real fond of cats and Emmeline wouldn’t let her keep one. Emmeline even cut the serial out of the religious weekly she took before she would give it to Prissy, because she didn’t believe in reading novels. It used to make me furious to see it all. They were my next door neighbours after I married Thomas, and I was often in and out. Sometimes I’d feel real vexed at Prissy for giving in the way she did; but, after all, she couldn’t help it — she was born that way.

      And now Stephen was going to try his luck again. It certainly did seem funny.

      Stephen walked home with Prissy from prayer meeting four nights before Emmeline found it out. Emmeline hadn’t been going to prayer meeting all that summer because she was mad at Mr. Leonard. She had expressed her disapproval to him because he had buried old Naomi Clark at the harbour “just as if she was a Christian,” and Mr. Leonard had said something to her she couldn’t get over for a while. I don’t know what it was, but I know that when Mr. Leonard WAS roused to rebuke anyone the person so rebuked remembered it for a spell.

      All at once I knew she must have discovered about Stephen and Prissy, for Prissy stopped going to prayer meeting.

      I felt real worried about it, someway, and although Thomas said for goodness’ sake not to go poking my fingers into other people’s pies, I felt as if I ought to do something. Stephen Clark was a good man and Prissy would have a beautiful home; and those two little boys of Althea’s needed a mother if ever boys did. Besides, I knew quite well that Prissy, in her secret soul, was hankering to be married. So was Emmeline, too — but nobody wanted to help HER to a husband.

      The upshot of my meditations was that I asked Stephen down to dinner with us from church one day. I had heard a rumour that he was going to see Lizzie Pye over at Avonlea, and I knew it was time to be stirring, if anything were to be done. If it had been Jane Miranda I don’t know that I’d have bothered; but Lizzie Pye wouldn’t have done for a stepmother for Althea’s boys at all. She was too bad-tempered, and as mean as second skimmings besides.

      Stephen came. He seemed dull and moody, and not much inclined to talk. After dinner I gave Thomas a hint. I said,

      “You go to bed and have your nap. I want to talk to Stephen.”

      Thomas shrugged his shoulders and went. He probably thought I was brewing up lots of trouble for myself, but he didn’t say anything. As soon as he was out of the way I casually remarked to Stephen that I understood that he was going to take one of my neighbours away and that I couldn’t be sorry, though she was an excellent neighbour and I would miss her a great deal.

      “You won’t have to miss her much, I reckon,” said Stephen grimly. “I’ve been told I’m not wanted there.”

      I was surprised to hear Stephen come out so plump and plain about it, for I hadn’t expected to get at the root of СКАЧАТЬ