The Blythes Are Quoted (15 page)

No place for ghosts, one would think. And yet here he was, haunted. Confound it!

And worse than haunted ... bored. It all came back to that. Ghosts and boredom were the two things Anthony Lennox couldn’t endure. He had spent fifteen years trying to escape both. Of course his doctor had told him that he must go to a quiet place for the summer if he wanted his nerves to behave by the fall. But surely not a dead place.

He would leave that afternoon.

Just as he decided on this he reached the spot where Jill was sitting on a rock, with the air of a queen on a throne, and

P.G. was lying flat on his stomach on the sand, too bored himself even to lift his head.

Anthony paused and looked at Jill ... at her droll, little, impudent face under her fringe of reddish-brown hair ... at her nose, which was not the usual smudge of ten but a nose that stood on its own merits ... at her long, new-moon mouth, now drooping at the corners.

And the soul of Anthony Lennox was at that moment knit to the soul of Jill, nevermore to be unknitted. But it was not the nose or the mouth or the impudence that won him. Diana Blythe whom he had met had all those ... lacking a little of the impudence perhaps.

It was the eyes ... the luminous, black-lashed eyes. They were like eyes he had once known ... except that they were stormy and mutinous and grey, whereas the eyes he remembered had been blue and dreamy and yet somehow suggestive of wild, secret, unfettered delights ... very like Mrs. Dr. Blythe’s, only the latter’s were greyish green and he almost envied the doctor and if Mrs. Blythe had not been married and the mother of five or six children ... stop, Anthony Lennox, you maundering, sentimental, old fool!

“Well,” said Anthony.

“Well, yourself,” retorted Jill, a bit sulkily.

“Now, what is the matter?” said Anthony. “Two kids like you ought to be merry as grigs on a morning like this. I’ll bet the Blythe twins are. I saw you playing with them last night and you all seemed to be having a good time.”

“Matter! Matter!” Jill’s wrongs surged up and overwhelmed her. “The Blythe twins are both girls. That makes the difference. Girls have some sense. This is all Pig’s fault!”

Pig grunted.

“Oh, yes, grunt. He won’t do one thing this morning but grunt. He won’t pretend ... he simply won’t. Just wallows there and grunts. It was all very fine last night. He wanted to show off before the Blythe girls. Oh, I know him.”

Another furious grunt from P.G. But he would not be provoked into speaking. Let Jill say what silly things she might. The Blythe girls indeed!

P.G. would have died before he would have admitted that after he went to bed he had thought a good deal about Nan’s eyes and wished Half Moon Cove were not quite so far from Glen St. Mary.

“If you never pretend ...” Jill waxed dramatic, “how are you going to exist here?”

“How indeed!” agreed Anthony fervently.

“The Blythe girls asked us to visit them ... but we can’t go

there every day. It isn’t ...” In one of her April changes Jill was almost tearful ... “it isn’t as if I was unreasonable. I told him I’d pretend whatever he wanted. It was my turn to choose ... and there was one thing I did want ... Nan Blythe said she and Walter often pretended it in Rainbow Valley ... but I told him he could choose. I’d pretend anything ... tortured Indians ... or entertaining the King ... or a prince’s daughter
imprisoned in a castle by the sea ... or Edith Cavell at her execution ... or the land where wishes come true ... the Blythe girls love that ... or anything. And he won’t. He says he’s tired of everything.”

Jill came to an end of breath and italics and poked P.G.’s shin savagely with her left foot.

P.G. rolled over on his back and revealed a face uncannily like Jill’s, except for a pair of fine hazel eyes and more freckles.

“The land where wishes come true is the silliest pretend of all,” he said scornfully. “’Cause wishes never do come true. Jill’s got wheels in her head.”

P.G. turned over again and gave Jill her chance of revenge.

“You didn’t say that to Nan Blythe last night,” she hissed. “You said you thought it the best game of all. And you’d better not lie on your stomach. You didn’t wash behind your ears this morning.”

P.G. gave no sign of hearing but Jill knew the shot had gone home. P.G., for a boy, was fussy about cleanliness.

“What was it you wanted to pretend?” said Anthony.

“Oh, I wanted to pretend we were rich ... we’re really poor as snakes, you know ... and that we bought Orchard Knob and brought it back to life. Diana says they often pretend that, too. Though they
could
, perhaps. Their father is a very successful doctor.”

Anthony’s brown eyes opened widely.

“Where and what is Orchard Knob? And why and when did it die?”

“Tell him everything,” jeered P.G. “Don’t keep anything back. He’ll be
so
interested.”

“Oh, we just gave it that name after a place in a book. It’s about half a mile back from the Cove and halfway between here and the Glen. It belongs to someone who went away
years ago and never came back. It was a lovely place once. Nan says Susan Baker says it was even prettier than Ingleside, though I don’t believe
that
. Have you ever seen Ingleside?”

“Oh, yes, I’ve been there,” said Anthony, skipping a stone over the water in a way that made P.G.’s soul green with envy. “But I don’t know any place called Orchard Knob.”

“I
told
you we just named it that ourselves. It would be lovely yet if anyone loved it a little. It’s so out at elbows, as Nan says. The shingles are all curled up and the veranda roof is sagging and the shutters are all broken. And one of the chimneys has blown down and burdocks are growing over everything ... and it’s so lonely and heartbroken.”

“You borrowed that speech from Nan Blythe,” muttered P.G.

“I don’t care ... very likely she borrowed it from her mother. They say Mrs. Blythe writes stories. And anyhow I do want to cry every time I see it. It’s awful to see a house so lonely.”

“As if houses had any feelings!” scoffed P.G.

“They have,” said Anthony. “But why has it never been bought?”

“Nobody will buy it. Diana says the heirs want too much for it and Susan Baker says she wouldn’t take it as a gift. It would take a fortune to fix it up. But I would buy it if I was rich. And so would Pig, if he wasn’t too sulky to say so.”

“And what would you do with it?”

“Oh, I know. Pig and I have pretended so often that we know exactly. It isn’t a bit like the Blythes would do it, but they are more economical in their imaginations. But
I
say when it is only imagination anyhow what difference does it make how extravagant you are.”

“Agreed. But you haven’t answered my question.”

“Well, we’d shingle it ... Nan Blythe would stucco it ... and build up the chimney ... we were all agreed on that ... you
ought to see the fireplace they have at Ingleside ... and tear down the old veranda and put in a nice sun porch.”

“You seem to forget that he has been at Ingleside,” sneered P.G.

“And we’d make a rose garden in the burdock patch. Susan agrees with us there. You’d be surprised how much imagination Susan Baker has got when you come to know her well.”

“Nothing about a woman would surprise me,” said Anthony.

“Is that a cynical speech?” asked Jill, staring at him. “Nan said her father said you were cynical.”

“What would you do with the inside?” said Anthony. “I suppose it has gone to seed, too.”

“Oh, we’d furnish it like a palace. I can tell you it’s fun.”

“Yes,” sneered P.G., unable to keep silence any longer. “That’s why Jill likes to pretend about it. She loves to fuss with curtains and cushions and stuff. So do the Blythe girls. Though they have some sense. They’d do what I’d like to do.”

“And what is that?”

“Being a man you ought to know. I’d put in a swimming pool ... and a tennis court ... and a rock garden ... you ought to see the one they have at Ingleside ...”

“I thought you said he’d been at Ingleside,” said Jill. “They dragged the stones up from the harbour shore themselves and Susan Baker helped them.”

“It wouldn’t cost much for a rock garden,” said P.G. “Look at all the stones round here. But besides I’d have a boathouse on the river ... there’s a little river runs past Orchard Knob ... and kennels for hundreds of dogs. Oh!” P.G. groaned. “The things one could do if one were rich!”

“But we aren’t. And you know, Porky ...” Jill was softening ... “imagination doesn’t cost anything.”

“You bet it does ... sometimes,” said Anthony. “More than the richest man alive could afford to pay. But that idea of the rose garden gets me. I’ve always had a secret, starved ambition to grow roses.”

“Well, why don’t you?” said Jill. “Everyone says you are rich enough. The Blythe girls say their father says ...”

“It isn’t exactly a question of riches, Jill dear. But of time to enjoy it. What would be the use of a rose garden you only saw once in so many years? I might have to be in Turkestan when the roses were in bloom.”

“But you’d know the roses were there,” said Jill, “and somebody else might be enjoying them if you weren’t.”

“What a philosopher! Well ...” Anthony decided the thing in a flash just as he always decided things ... “suppose we do fix this Orchard Knob of yours up?”

Jill stared. P.G. concluded that the man was crazy. Nan Blythe had said Susan had said people said he was.

“Fix it up! Do you mean really? And how can we? Can you buy it?”

“I don’t need to. It’s mine already ... though I’ve never laid eyes on it for fifteen years. And it was just the ‘old Lennox place’ then. At first I didn’t know you were talking about it.”

P.G. looked him over and concluded Nan was right. Jill did the same and concluded he was sane.

“And what do you mean,” she said severely, “by going away and leaving that beautiful place to die? No wonder Susan Baker thinks ...”

“Never mind what Susan Baker thinks. I’ll tell you the whole story sometime. Meanwhile, are you coming into partnership with me or are you not? I will furnish the cash and you will furnish the imagination. But the Blythe girls are not to know anything about it until it is finished.”

“They’re awfully nice girls,” protested Jill dubiously.

“Of course they are nice ... the daughters of Gilbert Blythe and Anne Shirley couldn’t help being nice. I knew them both at college.”

“They’d never tell if they promised not to,” said P.G.

“They wouldn’t mean to. But don’t you think Susan Baker would pick it out of them in a wink?”

“Have you got plenty of money?” demanded Jill, coming down to practicalities. “If we make it like we pretended it will cost ... millions, I guess.”

“No,” said P.G. unexpectedly. “I’ve figured it all out lots of times. Thirty thousand will do it.”

Anthony stared at him with a look which Jill took for dismay.

“You haven’t got so much? I knew nobody could have. Susan Baker says ...”

“If you mention Susan Baker’s name to me again I will pick out one of these nice round stones and go down to Ingleside and lay her out flat. And then do you think the Blythe girls will like you?”

“But you looked ...”

“Oh, I suppose I looked a bit staggered ... but it was not by the amount. Don’t worry, darling. There are quite a few shekels in my old stocking. Well, are you coming in with me?”

“You bet,” said Jill and P.G. together.

Bored? They didn’t know the meaning of such an expression. Wasn’t this just the last word in worlds! To think of a thing like this falling down on you, right out of the blue, so to speak!

It would have been incredible to anyone else but nothing was ever incredible to the twins. They had sojourned so often in the land where wishes come true that nothing amazed
them much or long. They were sorry they couldn’t tell the Blythe twins about it but they knew quite well that Susan Baker would find out all about it before long and they would have the triumph of knowing it before she did.

“I suppose your parents won’t object?” said Anthony. “I’ll want you up at this Orchard Knob a lot of the time, you know.”

“We’ve no parents,” assured Jill. “Oh, there is Mums, of course, but she is so busy waiting on Aunt Henrietta that she doesn’t bother much about us. She won’t worry. Besides, you’re respectable, aren’t you?”

“Entirely so. But your father ... is he ...”

“Dead,” said P.G. cheerfully. A father who had died three months after he and Jill had come into the world was only a name to him.

“He didn’t leave a cent, so Susan ... so people say, so Mums had to go to work. She teaches school when we are home. We live out west, you know.”

“And she wasn’t very well last year,” said Jill, “so the board gave her a year’s leave of absence ...”

“With salary,” interposed the financially minded P.G.

“And she came to Half Moon Cove for a rest.”

“She rests waiting on Aunt Henrietta,” said P.G. scornfully. “It’s a change of tribbleation, I suppose.”

“I don’t think we’d better tell her about this anyhow,” said Jill, “because then she might think she ought to worry about us and she’s got enough without that, so Susan ... I mean people say. She’ll just think we’re prowling around the shore as usual as long as we’re home for meals and bed. We are used to looking after ourselves, Mr. ... Mr. ...”

“Lennox ... Anthony Lennox, at your service.”

“What will you do with Orchard Knob when you do fix it up? Live in it?”

“God forbid!” said Anthony Lennox.

There was that in his tone that forbade further questioning. Live at Orchard Knob! And yet, once upon a time ...

They went up to Orchard Knob that night. The twins were wild with excitement but Anthony felt like turning tail and running, as he unlocked the rusty iron gate with the key he had got from Lawyer Milton of Lowbridge.

“The very first thing to do,” said Jill, “is to tear down this dreadful wall and gate. It’s all holes anyway. Porky and I used to crawl through one behind the barns. We couldn’t get into the house, though. We couldn’t even see into it. Susan ... a lady we must not mention to you for fear you flatten her out with a stone ... said it used to be a fine place long ago.”