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  CHAPTER II. SHEER GOSSIP

  "Where are the other children?" asked Miss Cornelia, when the firstgreetings--cordial on her side, rapturous on Anne's, and dignified onSusan's--were over.

  "Shirley is in bed and Jem and Walter and the twins are down in theirbeloved Rainbow Valley," said Anne. "They just came home this afternoon,you know, and they could hardly wait until supper was over beforerushing down to the valley. They love it above every spot on earth. Eventhe maple grove doesn't rival it in their affections."

  "I am afraid they love it too well," said Susan gloomily. "Little Jemsaid once he would rather go to Rainbow Valley than to heaven when hedied, and that was not a proper remark."

  "I suppose they had a great time in Avonlea?" said Miss Cornelia.

  "Enormous. Marilla does spoil them terribly. Jem, in particular, can dono wrong in her eyes."

  "Miss Cuthbert must be an old lady now," said Miss Cornelia, getting outher knitting, so that she could hold her own with Susan. Miss Corneliaheld that the woman whose hands were employed always had the advantageover the woman whose hands were not.

  "Marilla is eighty-five," said Anne with a sigh. "Her hair issnow-white. But, strange to say, her eyesight is better than it was whenshe was sixty."

  "Well, dearie, I'm real glad you're all back. I've been dreadfullonesome. But we haven't been dull in the Glen, believe ME. There hasn'tbeen such an exciting spring in my time, as far as church matters go.We've got settled with a minister at last, Anne dearie."

  "The Reverend John Knox Meredith, Mrs. Dr. dear," said Susan, resolvednot to let Miss Cornelia tell all the news.

  "Is he nice?" asked Anne interestedly.

  Miss Cornelia sighed and Susan groaned.

  "Yes, he's nice enough if that were all," said the former. "He is VERYnice--and very learned--and very spiritual. But, oh Anne dearie, he hasno common sense!

  "How was it you called him, then?"

  "Well, there's no doubt he is by far the best preacher we ever had inGlen St. Mary church," said Miss Cornelia, veering a tack or two. "Isuppose it is because he is so moony and absent-minded that he never gota town call. His trial sermon was simply wonderful, believe ME. Everyone went mad about it--and his looks."

  "He is VERY comely, Mrs. Dr. dear, and when all is said and done, I DOlike to see a well-looking man in the pulpit," broke in Susan, thinkingit was time she asserted herself again.

  "Besides," said Miss Cornelia, "we were anxious to get settled. And Mr.Meredith was the first candidate we were all agreed on. Somebody hadsome objection to all the others. There was some talk of calling Mr.Folsom. He was a good preacher, too, but somehow people didn't care forhis appearance. He was too dark and sleek."

  "He looked exactly like a great black tomcat, that he did, Mrs. Dr.dear," said Susan. "I never could abide such a man in the pulpit everySunday."

  "Then Mr. Rogers came and he was like a chip in porridge--neither harmnor good," resumed Miss Cornelia. "But if he had preached like Peter andPaul it would have profited him nothing, for that was the day old CalebRamsay's sheep strayed into church and gave a loud 'ba-a-a' just as heannounced his text. Everybody laughed, and poor Rogers had no chanceafter that. Some thought we ought to call Mr. Stewart, because he was sowell educated. He could read the New Testament in five languages."

  "But I do not think he was any surer than other men of getting to heavenbecause of that," interjected Susan.

  "Most of us didn't like his delivery," said Miss Cornelia, ignoringSusan. "He talked in grunts, so to speak. And Mr. Arnett couldn't preachAT ALL. And he picked about the worst candidating text there is in theBible--'Curse ye Meroz.'"

  "Whenever he got stuck for an idea, he would bang the Bible and shoutvery bitterly, 'Curse ye Meroz.' Poor Meroz got thoroughly cursed thatday, whoever he was, Mrs. Dr. dear," said Susan.

  "The minister who is candidating can't be too careful what text hechooses," said Miss Cornelia solemnly. "I believe Mr. Pierson would havegot the call if he had picked a different text. But when he announced 'Iwill lift my eyes to the hills' HE was done for. Every one grinned, forevery one knew that those two Hill girls from the Harbour Head have beensetting their caps for every single minister who came to the Glen forthe last fifteen years. And Mr. Newman had too large a family."

  "He stayed with my brother-in-law, James Clow," said Susan. "'How manychildren have you got?' I asked him. 'Nine boys and a sister for each ofthem,' he said. 'Eighteen!' said I. 'Dear me, what a family!' And thenhe laughed and laughed. But I do not know why, Mrs. Dr. dear, and I amcertain that eighteen children would be too many for any manse."

  "He had only ten children, Susan," explained Miss Cornelia, withcontemptuous patience. "And ten good children would not be much worsefor the manse and congregation than the four who are there now. ThoughI wouldn't say, Anne dearie, that they are so bad, either. I likethem--everybody likes them. It's impossible to help liking them. Theywould be real nice little souls if there was anyone to look after theirmanners and teach them what is right and proper. For instance, at schoolthe teacher says they are model children. But at home they simply runwild."

  "What about Mrs. Meredith?" asked Anne.

  "There's NO Mrs. Meredith. That is just the trouble. Mr. Meredith isa widower. His wife died four years ago. If we had known that I don'tsuppose we would have called him, for a widower is even worse ina congregation than a single man. But he was heard to speak of hischildren and we all supposed there was a mother, too. And when they camethere was nobody but old Aunt Martha, as they call her. She's a cousinof Mr. Meredith's mother, I believe, and he took her in to save her fromthe poorhouse. She is seventy-five years old, half blind, and very deafand very cranky."

  "And a very poor cook, Mrs. Dr. dear."

  "The worst possible manager for a manse," said Miss Cornelia bitterly."Mr. Meredith won't get any other housekeeper because he says it wouldhurt Aunt Martha's feelings. Anne dearie, believe me, the state of thatmanse is something terrible. Everything is thick with dust and nothingis ever in its place. And we had painted and papered it all so nicebefore they came."

  "There are four children, you say?" asked Anne, beginning to mother themalready in her heart.

  "Yes. They run up just like the steps of a stair. Gerald's the oldest.He's twelve and they call him Jerry. He's a clever boy. Faith is eleven.She is a regular tomboy but pretty as a picture, I must say."

  "She looks like an angel but she is a holy terror for mischief, Mrs. Dr.dear," said Susan solemnly. "I was at the manse one night last week andMrs. James Millison was there, too. She had brought them up a dozen eggsand a little pail of milk--a VERY little pail, Mrs. Dr. dear. Faithtook them and whisked down the cellar with them. Near the bottom of thestairs she caught her toe and fell the rest of the way, milk and eggsand all. You can imagine the result, Mrs. Dr. dear. But that child cameup laughing. 'I don't know whether I'm myself or a custard pie,' shesaid. And Mrs. James Millison was very angry. She said she would nevertake another thing to the manse if it was to be wasted and destroyed inthat fashion."

  "Maria Millison never hurt herself taking things to the manse,"sniffed Miss Cornelia. "She just took them that night as an excuse forcuriosity. But poor Faith is always getting into scrapes. She is soheedless and impulsive."

  "Just like me. I'm going to like your Faith," said Anne decidedly.

  "She is full of spunk--and I do like spunk, Mrs. Dr. dear," admittedSusan.

  "There's something taking about her," conceded Miss Cornelia. "You neversee her but she's laughing, and somehow it always makes you wantto laugh too. She can't even keep a straight face in church. Una isten--she's a sweet little thing--not pretty, but sweet. And ThomasCarlyle is nine. They call him Carl, and he has a regular mania forcollecting toads and bugs and frogs and bringing them into the house."

  "I suppose he was responsible for the dead rat that was lying on a chairin the parlour the afternoon Mrs. Grant called. It gave her a turn,"said Susan, "and I do not wonder, for manse parlours are no places fordead
rats. To be sure it may have been the cat who left it, there. HE isas full of the old Nick as he can be stuffed, Mrs. Dr. dear. A manse catshould at least LOOK respectable, in my opinion, whatever he reallyis. But I never saw such a rakish-looking beast. And he walks along theridgepole of the manse almost every evening at sunset, Mrs. Dr. dear,and waves his tail, and that is not becoming."

  "The worst of it is, they are NEVER decently dressed," sighed MissCornelia. "And since the snow went they go to school barefooted.Now, you know Anne dearie, that isn't the right thing for mansechildren--especially when the Methodist minister's little girl alwayswears such nice buttoned boots. And I DO wish they wouldn't play in theold Methodist graveyard."

  "It's very tempting, when it's right beside the manse," said Anne. "I'vealways thought graveyards must be delightful places to play in."

  "Oh, no, you did not, Mrs. Dr. dear," said loyal Susan, determined toprotect Anne from herself. "You have too much good sense and decorum."

  "Why did they ever build that manse beside the graveyard in the firstplace?" asked Anne. "Their lawn is so small there is no place for themto play except in the graveyard."

  "It WAS a mistake," admitted Miss Cornelia. "But they got the lot cheap.And no other manse children ever thought of playing there. Mr. Meredithshouldn't allow it. But he has always got his nose buried in a book,when he is home. He reads and reads, or walks about in his study in aday-dream. So far he hasn't forgotten to be in church on Sundays, buttwice he has forgotten about the prayer-meeting and one of the eldershad to go over to the manse and remind him. And he forgot about FannyCooper's wedding. They rang him up on the 'phone and then he rushedright over, just as he was, carpet slippers and all. One wouldn'tmind if the Methodists didn't laugh so about it. But there's onecomfort--they can't criticize his sermons. He wakes up when he's in thepulpit, believe ME. And the Methodist minister can't preach at all--sothey tell me. _I_ have never heard him, thank goodness."

  Miss Cornelia's scorn of men had abated somewhat since her marriage,but her scorn of Methodists remained untinged of charity. Susan smiledslyly.

  "They do say, Mrs. Marshall Elliott, that the Methodists andPresbyterians are talking of uniting," she said.

  "Well, all I hope is that I'll be under the sod if that ever comes topass," retorted Miss Cornelia. "I shall never have truck or trade withMethodists, and Mr. Meredith will find that he'd better steer clear ofthem, too. He is entirely too sociable with them, believe ME. Why,he went to the Jacob Drews' silver-wedding supper and got into a nicescrape as a result."

  "What was it?"

  "Mrs. Drew asked him to carve the roast goose--for Jacob Drew never didor could carve. Well, Mr. Meredith tackled it, and in the process heknocked it clean off the platter into Mrs. Reese's lap, who was sittingnext him. And he just said dreamily. 'Mrs. Reese, will you kindly returnme that goose?' Mrs. Reese 'returned' it, as meek as Moses, but she musthave been furious, for she had on her new silk dress. The worst of itis, she was a Methodist."

  "But I think that is better than if she was a Presbyterian," interjectedSusan. "If she had been a Presbyterian she would mostly likely have leftthe church and we cannot afford to lose our members. And Mrs. Reese isnot liked in her own church, because she gives herself such great airs,so that the Methodists would be rather pleased that Mr. Meredith spoiledher dress."

  "The point is, he made himself ridiculous, and _I_, for one, do not liketo see my minister made ridiculous in the eyes of the Methodists,"said Miss Cornelia stiffly. "If he had had a wife it would not havehappened."

  "I do not see if he had a dozen wives how they could have prevented Mrs.Drew from using up her tough old gander for the wedding-feast," saidSusan stubbornly.

  "They say that was her husband's doing," said Miss Cornelia. "Jacob Drewis a conceited, stingy, domineering creature."

  "And they do say he and his wife detest each other--which does notseem to me the proper way for married folks to get along. But then, ofcourse, I have had no experience along that line," said Susan, tossingher head. "And _I_ am not one to blame everything on the men. Mrs. Drewis mean enough herself. They say that the only thing she was ever knownto give away was a crock of butter made out of cream a rat had fellinto. She contributed it to a church social. Nobody found out about therat until afterwards."

  "Fortunately, all the people the Merediths have offended so far areMethodists," said Miss Cornelia. "That Jerry went to the Methodistprayer-meeting one night about a fortnight ago and sat beside oldWilliam Marsh who got up as usual and testified with fearful groans. 'Doyou feel any better now?' whispered Jerry when William sat down. PoorJerry meant to be sympathetic, but Mr. Marsh thought he was impertinentand is furious at him. Of course, Jerry had no business to be in aMethodist prayer-meeting at all. But they go where they like."

  "I hope they will not offend Mrs. Alec Davis of the Harbour Head," saidSusan. "She is a very touchy woman, I understand, but she is very welloff and pays the most of any one to the salary. I have heard that shesays the Merediths are the worst brought up children she ever saw."

  "Every word you say convinces me more and more that the Merediths belongto the race that knows Joseph," said Mistress Anne decidedly.

  "When all is said and done, they DO," admitted Miss Cornelia. "And thatbalances everything. Anyway, we've got them now and we must just do thebest we can by them and stick up for them to the Methodists. Well, Isuppose I must be getting down harbour. Marshall will soon be home--hewent over-harbour to-day--and wanting his super, man-like. I'm sorry Ihaven't seen the other children. And where's the doctor?"

  "Up at the Harbour Head. We've only been home three days and in thattime he has spent three hours in his own bed and eaten two meals in hisown house."

  "Well, everybody who has been sick for the last six weeks has beenwaiting for him to come home--and I don't blame them. When thatover-harbour doctor married the undertaker's daughter at Lowbridgepeople felt suspicious of him. It didn't look well. You and the doctormust come down soon and tell us all about your trip. I suppose you'vehad a splendid time."

  "We had," agreed Anne. "It was the fulfilment of years of dreams. Theold world is very lovely and very wonderful. But we have come back verywell satisfied with our own land. Canada is the finest country in theworld, Miss Cornelia."

  "Nobody ever doubted that," said Miss Cornelia, complacently.

  "And old P.E.I. is the loveliest province in it and Four Winds theloveliest spot in P.E.I.," laughed Anne, looking adoringly out over thesunset splendour of glen and harbour and gulf. She waved her hand at it."I saw nothing more beautiful than that in Europe, Miss Cornelia. Mustyou go? The children will be sorry to have missed you."

  "They must come and see me soon. Tell them the doughnut jar is alwaysfull."

  "Oh, at supper they were planning a descent on you. They'll go soon; butthey must settle down to school again now. And the twins are going totake music lessons."

  "Not from the Methodist minister's wife, I hope?" said Miss Corneliaanxiously.

  "No--from Rosemary West. I was up last evening to arrange it with her.What a pretty girl she is!"

  "Rosemary holds her own well. She isn't as young as she once was."

  "I thought her very charming. I've never had any real acquaintance withher, you know. Their house is so out of the way, and I've seldom everseen her except at church."

  "People always have liked Rosemary West, though they don't understandher," said Miss Cornelia, quite unconscious of the high tribute shewas paying to Rosemary's charm. "Ellen has always kept her down, so tospeak. She has tyrannized over her, and yet she has always indulgedher in a good many ways. Rosemary was engaged once, you know--to youngMartin Crawford. His ship was wrecked on the Magdalens and all the crewwere drowned. Rosemary was just a child--only seventeen. But she wasnever the same afterwards. She and Ellen have stayed very close at homesince their mother's death. They don't often get to their own church atLowbridge and I understand Ellen doesn't approve of going too often to aPresbyterian church. To the Metho
dist she NEVER goes, I'll say that muchfor her. That family of Wests have always been strong Episcopalians.Rosemary and Ellen are pretty well off. Rosemary doesn't really need togive music lessons. She does it because she likes to. They are distantlyrelated to Leslie, you know. Are the Fords coming to the harbour thissummer?"

  "No. They are going on a trip to Japan and will probably be away for ayear. Owen's new novel is to have a Japanese setting. This will be thefirst summer that the dear old House of Dreams will be empty since weleft it."

  "I should think Owen Ford might find enough to write about in Canadawithout dragging his wife and his innocent children off to a heathencountry like Japan," grumbled Miss Cornelia. "_The Life Book_ was thebest book he's ever written and he got the material for that right herein Four Winds."

  "Captain Jim gave him the most of that, you know. And he collected itall over the world. But Owen's books are all delightful, I think."

  "Oh, they're well enough as far as they go. I make it a point to readevery one he writes, though I've always held, Anne dearie, that readingnovels is a sinful waste of time. I shall write and tell him my opinionof this Japanese business, believe ME. Does he want Kenneth and Persisto be converted into pagans?"

  With which unanswerable conundrum Miss Cornelia took her departure.Susan proceeded to put Rilla in bed and Anne sat on the veranda stepsunder the early stars and dreamed her incorrigible dreams and learnedall over again for the hundredth happy time what a moonrise splendourand sheen could be on Four Winds Harbour.