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

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СКАЧАТЬ had written him a letter — he fished it out of his pocket and gave it to me to read. It was in Prissy’s prim, pretty little writing, sure enough, and it just said that his attentions were “unwelcome,” and would he be “kind enough to refrain from offering them.” Not much wonder the poor man went to see Lizzie Pye!

      “Stephen, I’m surprised at you for thinking that Prissy Strong wrote that letter,” I said.

      “It’s in her handwriting,” he said stubbornly.

      “Of course it is. ‘The hand is the hand of Esau, but the voice is the voice of Jacob,’” I said, though I wasn’t sure whether the quotation was exactly appropriate. “Emmeline composed that letter and made Prissy copy it out. I know that as well as if I’d seen her do it, and you ought to have known it, too.”

      “If I thought that I’d show Emmeline I could get Prissy in spite of her,” said Stephen savagely. “But if Prissy doesn’t want me I’m not going to force my attentions on her.”

      Well, we talked it over a bit, and in the end I agreed to sound Prissy, and find out what she really thought about it. I didn’t think it would be hard to do; and it wasn’t. I went over the very next day because I saw Emmeline driving off to the store. I found Prissy alone, sewing carpet rags. Emmeline kept her constantly at that — because Prissy hated it I suppose. Prissy was crying when I went in, and in a few minutes I had the whole story.

      Prissy wanted to get married — and she wanted to get married to Stephen — and Emmeline wouldn’t let her.

      “Prissy Strong,” I said in exasperation, “you haven’t the spirit of a mouse! Why on earth did you write him such a letter?”

      “Why, Emmeline made me,” said Prissy, as if there couldn’t be any appeal from that; and I knew there couldn’t — for Prissy. I also knew that if Stephen wanted to see Prissy again Emmeline must know nothing of it, and I told him so when he came down the next evening — to borrow a hoe, he said. It was a long way to come for a hoe.

      “Then what am I to do?” he said. “It wouldn’t be any use to write, for it would likely fall into Emmeline’s hands. She won’t let Prissy go anywhere alone after this, and how am I to know when the old cat is away?”

      “Please don’t insult cats,” I said. “I’ll tell you what we’ll do. You can see the ventilator on our barn from your place, can’t you? You’d be able to make out a flag or something tied to it, wouldn’t you, through that spyglass of yours?”

      Stephen thought he could.

      “Well, you take a squint at it every now and then,” I said. “Just as soon as Emmeline leaves Prissy alone I’ll hoist the signal.”

      The chance didn’t come for a whole fortnight. Then, one evening, I saw Emmeline striding over the field below our house. As soon as she was out of sight I ran through the birch grove to Prissy.

      “Yes, Em’line’s gone to sit up with Jane Lawson tonight,” said Prissy, all fluttered and trembling.

      “Then you put on your muslin dress and fix your hair,” I said. “I’m going home to get Thomas to tie something to that ventilator.”

      But do you think Thomas would do it? Not he. He said he owed something to his position as elder in the church. In the end I had to do it myself, though I don’t like climbing ladders. I tied Thomas’ long red woollen scarf to the ventilator, and prayed that Stephen would see it. He did, for in less than an hour he drove down our lane and put his horse in our barn. He was all spruced up, and as nervous and excited as a schoolboy. He went right over to Prissy, and I began to tuft my new comfort with a clear conscience. I shall never know why it suddenly came into my head to go up to the garret and make sure that the moths hadn’t got into my box of blankets; but I always believed that it was a special interposition of Providence. I went up and happened to look out of the east window; and there I saw Emmeline Strong coming home across our pond field.

      I just flew down those garret stairs and out through the birches. I burst into the Strong kitchen, where Stephen and Prissy were sitting as cozy as you please.

      “Stephen, come quick! Emmeline’s nearly here,” I cried.

      Prissy looked out of the window and wrung her hands.

      “Oh, she’s in the lane now,” she gasped. “He can’t get out of the house without her seeing him. Oh, Rosanna, what shall we do?”

      I really don’t know what would have become of those two people if I hadn’t been in existence to find ideas for them.

      “Take Stephen up to the garret and hide him there, Prissy,” I said firmly, “and take him quick.”

      Prissy took him quick, but she had barely time to get back to the kitchen before Emmeline marched in — mad as a wet hen because somebody had been ahead of her offering to sit up with Jane Lawson, and so she lost the chance of poking and prying into things while Jane was asleep. The minute she clapped eyes on Prissy she suspected something. It wasn’t any wonder, for there was Prissy, all dressed up, with flushed cheeks and shining eyes. She was all in a quiver of excitement, and looked ten years younger.

      “Priscilla Strong, you’ve been expecting Stephen Clark here this evening!” burst out Emmeline. “You wicked, deceitful, underhanded, ungrateful creature!”

      And she went on storming at Prissy, who began to cry, and looked so weak and babyish that I was frightened she would betray the whole thing.

      “This is between you and Prissy, Emmeline,” I struck in, “and I’m not going to interfere. But I want to get you to come over and show me how to tuft my comfort that new pattern you learned in Avonlea, and as it had better be done before dark I wish you’d come right away.”

      “I s’pose I’ll go,” said Emmeline ungraciously, “but Priscilla shall come, too, for I see that she isn’t to be trusted out of my sight after this.”

      I hoped Stephen would see us from the garret window and make good his escape. But I didn’t dare trust to chance, so when I got Emmeline safely to work on my comfort I excused myself and slipped out. Luckily my kitchen was on the off side of the house, but I was a nervous woman as I rushed across to the Strong place and dashed up Emmeline’s garret stairs to Stephen. It was fortunate I had come, for he didn’t know we had gone. Prissy had hidden him behind the loom and he didn’t dare move for fear Emmeline would hear him on that creaky floor. He was a sight with cobwebs.

      I got him down and smuggled him into our barn, and he stayed there until it was dark and the Strong girls had gone home. Emmeline began to rage at Prissy the moment they were outside my door.

      Then Stephen came in and we talked things over. He and Prissy had made good use of their time, short as it had been. Prissy had promised to marry him, and all that remained was to get the ceremony performed.

      “And that will be no easy matter,” I warned him. “Now that Emmeline’s suspicions are aroused she’ll never let Prissy out of her sight until you’re married to another woman, if it’s years. I know Emmeline Strong. And I know Prissy. If it was any other girl in the world she’d run away, or manage it somehow, but Prissy never will. She’s too much in the habit of obeying Emmeline. You’ll have an obedient wife, Stephen — if you ever get her.”

      Stephen looked as if he thought that wouldn’t СКАЧАТЬ