Mistress Pat (22 page)

“But, Uncle Horace, how COULD he have got home?”

“Well, the only explanation I could figure out was this. The day before we missed Pills we’d been hailed by a ship, the Alice Lee bound for Boston, U. S. A. They had sickness on board and had run out of some drug, I forget what, and the captain wanted to know if we could let him have some. We could, so he sent a boat across with two men in it. I concluded that one of them swiped the cat. Afterwards Geordie recalled that Pills had been sitting, perky and impudent, on a coil of rope as the men came over the side. He was never seen again but he wasn’t missed till the next day. It was Geordie’s turn for him that night but Geordie thought cook had him and being sorry for cook, who was looking like a lopsided squirrel with toothache, made no fuss. He didn’t get worried till the next afternoon. The men all maintained that no sailor would ever steal another ship’s cat, especially a black one, and blamed Cannibal Jim, as I’ve said. But I never believed even Cannibal Jim would play fast and loose with luck that way. We certainly had nothing but squalls and typhoons the rest of the voyage and finally a man overboard. But the most puzzling thing was that Pills took six months to get home. I went west that year and took to voyaging the Pacific so I never fell in with any of the Alice Lee’s crew again but I did find out that she got to Boston two months after she’d passed us. Suppose Pills was on her. That left four months to be accounted for. Where was he? I’ll tell you where he was. Travelling the miles between Boston and Halifax on his own black legs.”

Tillytuck snorted incredulously.

“Either that or he swum it,” said Uncle Horace sternly. “I find it easier to believe he walked. Don’t ask me how he knew the road. I tell you that I saw, then and there, that cats had forgotten more than human beings ever knew and I made up my mind to cultivate their society. When this little fellow hopped up on me last night I just told him to pick out a soft spot on my old carcase and snuggle down.”

By the time Uncle Horace’s visit drew near its close they had all decided that they liked him tremendously, even if he did disapprove of their clothes and avert his eyes in horror from the pale green and pink and orchid silk panties on the line Monday mornings. They thought, too, that Uncle Horace liked them, though they couldn’t feel sure of it. Pat was sure, however, that he must approve of Silver Bush. Everything went smoothly until the very last day … and IT was really dreadful. In the first place Sid upset Judy’s bowl of breakfast pancake batter on the floor and Winnie’s baby crawled into it. Of course Uncle Horace had to appear at the very worst moment before the baby could be even picked up, and probably thought that was how they amused babies at Silver Bush. Then Rae put an unopened can of peas on the stove to heat for dinner. The can exploded with a bang, the kitchen was full of steam and particles of peas, and Uncle Horace got a burn on the cheek where the can struck him. To crown all, Rae dared him to go to Silverbridge in the car with her after supper and Uncle Horace, though he had never been in a car, vowed no girl should stump him and got in. Nobody knew what went wrong … Rae was considered a good driver … but the car, instead of going down the lane dashed through the paling fence, struck the church barn, and finished up against a tree. No harm was done except a bent bumper and Rae and Uncle Horace proceeded on their way. Uncle Horace did not seem disturbed. He said when he came home he had supposed it was just Rae’s way of starting and he thought he’d get a car of his own when he went back to the coast.

“Sure and some av ye must have seen a fairy, wid all the bad luck we’ve had today,” gasped Judy when he was safely off to bed.

“Today simply hasn’t happened. I cut it out of the week,” said Pat ruefully. “After all our efforts to make a good impression! But did you ever see anything funnier than his expression when that can hit him?”

“Yes … his expression when I sideswiped the church barn,” said Rae.

They both shrieked with laughter.

“I am afraid Uncle Horace will think we are all terrible and you in particular, Rae.”

But Uncle Horace did not think so. That evening he told Long Alec he wanted to pay the expenses of Rae’s year at Queen’s.

“She’s a gallant girl and easy on the eye,” he said. “I’ve neither chick nor child of my own. I like your girls, Alec. They can laugh when things go wrong and I like that. Any one can laugh when it’s all smooth sailing. I’ll not be east again, Alec, but I’m glad I came for once. It’s been good to see old Judy again. Those plum tarts of hers with whipped cream! My stomach will never be the same again but it was worth it. I’m glad you keep up all the old traditions here.”

“One does one’s best,” said Long Alec modestly.

But Judy in the kitchen was shaking her grey bob sorrowfully at Gentleman Tom.

“Young Horace don’t be young inny longer. All the divilment has gone out av him. And looking so solemn! There was a time the solemner he looked the more mischief he was plotting. Oh, oh!” Judy sighed. “I’m fearing we do all be getting a bit ould, cat dear.”

The Third Year

Rae was off to Queen’s and Pat was very lonely. Of course Rae came home every Friday night, just as Pat had done in her Queen’s year, and they had hilarious week ends. But the rest of the time was hard to endure. No Rae to laugh and gossip with … no Rae to talk over the day with at bedtime … no Rae to sleep in the little white bed beside her own. Pat cried herself to sleep for several nights, and then devoted herself to Silver Bush more passionately than ever.

Rae, after her first homesick week, liked town and college very much, though she was sometimes cold in her boarding house bed and the only window of her room looked out on the blank brick wall of the next house instead of a flower garden and green fields and misty hills.

And Judy was getting ready for her trip to Ireland. She was to go in November with the Patterson family from Summerside, who were revisiting the old sod, and all through October little else was talked of at Silver Bush. Pat, though she hated the thought of Judy going, threw herself heart and soul into the preparations. Judy must and should have this wonderful trip to her old home after her life of hard work. Everybody was interested. Long Alec went to town and got Judy her steamer trunk. Judy looked a bit strange when he dumped it on the walk.

“Oh, oh, I KNOW I do be going … but I can’t belave it, Patsy. That trunk there … I can’t fale it belongs to me. If it was the old blue chist now …”

But of course the old blue chest couldn’t be taken to Ireland. And Judy at last believed she was going when a paragraph in the “North Glen Notes” announced that Miss Judy Plum of Silver Bush would spend the winter with her relatives in Ireland. Judy looked queerer than ever when she saw it. It seemed to make everything so irrevocable.

“Patsy darlint, it must be the will av the Good Man Above that I’m to go,” she said when she read it.

“Nothing like a change, as old Murdoch MacGonigal said when he turned over in his grave,” remarked Tillytuck cheerfully.

Everybody gave Judy something. Uncle Tom gave a leather suit-case and mother a beautiful brush and comb and hand mirror.

“Oh, oh, niver did I be thinking I’d have a t’ilet set av me own,” said Judy. “Talk av the silver backed ones the Bishop stole! And wid me monnygram on the back av the looking glass! I do be hoping me ould uncle will have sinse enough lift to take in the grandeur av it.”

Pat gave her a “negleege” and Aunt Barbara gave her a crinkly scarf of cardinal crepe which she had worn only once and which Judy had greatly admired. Even Aunt Edith gave her a grey hug-me-tight with a purple border. Pat nearly went into kinks at the thought of Judy in such a thing but Judy was rather touched.

“Sure and it was rale kind av Edith. I hadn’t ixpicted it for we’ve niver been what ye might call cronies. Mebbe I’ll see some poor ould lady in Ireland that it’ll set.”

Judy’s travelling dress exercised them all but one was finally got that pleased her. Also a grey felt hat with a smart, tiny scarlet feather in it. Judy tried the whole outfit on one night in the kitchen chamber and was so scared by her stylish reflection in the cracked mirror that she was for tearing everything off immediately.

“Oh, oh, it doesn’t look like ME Patsy. It does be frightening me. Will I iver get back into mesilf?”

But Pat made her go down to the kitchen and show herself to everybody. And everybody felt that this hatted and coated and scarlet-feathered Judy WAS a stranger but everybody paid her compliments and Tillytuck said if he’d ever suspected what a fine-looking woman she really was there was no knowing what might have happened.

“I hope nothing will prevent Judy from going,” said Rae. “It would break her heart to be disappointed now. But when I think of coming home Friday nights and Judy not here! And that horrid old Mrs. Bob Robinson, with her pussy cat face!” Rae blinked her eyes fiercely.

“Mrs. Robinson isn’t really so bad, Rae,” protested Pat half-heartedly. “At any rate she is the best we can get and it’s only for the winter.”

“I tell you she’s an inquisitive, snooping old thing,” snapped Rae. “YOU didn’t see her going down the walk after you’d hired her, giving her chops a sly lick of self-satisfaction every three steps. I did. And I know she was thinking, ‘I’LL show them what proper housekeeping is at Silver Bush.’”

One burning question had been … who was to be got in to help Pat for the winter? From several candidates Mrs. Bob Robinson of Silverbridge was finally chosen, as the least objectionable. Tillytuck didn’t take to her and nicknamed her Mrs. Puddleduck at sight. It was not hard to imagine why for Mrs. Robinson was very short and very plump and very waddly. The Silver Bush family could never again think of her as anything but Mrs. Puddleduck. Tillytuck’s nicknames had a habit of sticking.

To Judy, of course, Mrs. Puddleduck was nothing but a necessary evil.

“She do be more up to date than mesilf I’m not doubting” … with a toss of her grey head. “They do be saying she took that domestic short course last year. But will she be kaping our cats continted I’m asking ye?”

“They say she’s a very careful, saving woman,” said Long Alec.

“Oh, oh, careful, is it? I’m not doubting it.” Judy waxed very sarcastic. “She do be getting that from no stranger. Her grandfather did be putting a sun-dial in his garden and thin built a canopy over it to pertect it from the sun. Oh, oh, careful! Ye’ve said it!”

“She’ll never make such apple fritters as yours, Judy, if she took fifty short courses,” said Sid, passing his plate up for a second helping.

Then there was the matter of the passport. They had quite a time convincing Judy that she must have a photograph taken for it.

“Sure an’ wud ye want to be photygraphed if ye had a face like that, Rae, darlint,” she would demand, pointing to the kitchen mirror which never paid any one compliments. But when the picture came home Judy, in her new hat, with the crinkled crepe scarf about her throat looked so surprisingly handsome that she was delighted. She kept the passport in the drawer of the kitchen cupboard and took frequent peeps at it when nobody was about.

“Did I iver be thinking a hat cud make such a difference? I can’t be seeing but that I do be ivery bit as good-looking as Lady Medchester, and her a blue-blood aristocrat!”

Had it not been for Judy’s going that October would have been a perfectly happy month for Pat. It was a golden, frostless autumn and when the high winds blew it fairly rained apples in the orchards and the ferns along the Whispering Lane were brown and spicy. There were gay evenings up at the Long House with Suzanne and David … hours of good gab-fest by the light of their leaping fire. David developed a habit of walking down the hill with Pat which Judy did not think at all necessary. Pat had come down that hill many a night alone.

“Thim widowers,” she muttered viciously … but took care that Pat did not hear her. Judy had soon discovered that Pat resented any criticism of David Kirk.

Then McGinty died. They had long expected it. The little dog had been feeble all summer: he had grown deaf and very wistful. It broke Pat’s heart when she met his pleading eyes. But to the very last he tried to wag his tail when she came to him. He died with his golden brown head pillowed on her hand. Judy cried like a child and even Tillytuck and Long Alec blew their noses. McGinty was buried beside Snicklefritz in the old graveyard and Pat had to write and tell Hilary that he was gone.

“I feel as if I could never love a dog again,” she wrote. “I miss him so. It is so hard to remember that he is dead. I’m always looking for him. Hilary, just before he died he suddenly lifted his head and pricked his ears just as he used to do when he heard your step. I think he DID hear something because all at once that heartbreaking look of longing went out of his eyes and he gave such a happy little sigh and cuddled his head down in my hand and … it seems too harsh to say he died. He just ceased to be. I wish you had come home, Hilary. I’m sure it was you his eyes were always asking for. Do you remember how he always came to meet us those Friday evenings when we came home from college? And he was with you that night so long ago when you saved me from dying of sheer terror on the base-line road. He was only a little, loving-hearted dog but his going has made a terrible hole in my life. It’s another change … and Rae is gone … and Judy is going. Oh, Hilary, life seems to be just change … change … change. Everything changes but Silver Bush. It is always the same and I love it more every day of my life.”

Hilary Gordon frowned a bit when he read this. And he frowned still more over a certain paragraph in a letter Rae had written.

“I do wish you’d come home this summer, Jingle. If you don’t soon come Pat will up and marry that horrid David Kirk. I know she will. It’s really mysterious the influence that man has gained over her. It’s David this and David that … she’s always quoting him. So far as I can see he doesn’t do anything but talk to her … and he CAN talk. The creature is abominably clever.”

Hilary sighed. Perhaps he should have gone to the Island last summer. But he was working his way through college … for accept help from the mother who had neglected him all his life he would not … and summer visits home … to Hilary “home” meant Silver Bush … could not be squeezed into his budget.