Rilla of Ingleside Read online

  CHAPTER IX

  DOC HAS A MISADVENTURE

  "The war will not be over before next spring now," said Dr. Blythe,when it became apparent that the long battle of the Aisne had resultedin a stalemate.

  Rilla was murmuring "knit four, purl one" under her breath, and rockingthe baby's cradle with one foot. Morgan disapproved of cradles forbabies but Susan did not, and it was worth while to make some slightsacrifice of principle to keep Susan in good humour. She laid down herknitting for a moment and said, "Oh, how can we bear it so long?"--thenpicked up her sock and went on. The Rilla of two months before wouldhave rushed off to Rainbow Valley and cried.

  Miss Oliver sighed and Mrs. Blythe clasped her hands for a moment. ThenSusan said briskly, "Well, we must just gird up our loins and pitch in.Business as usual is England's motto, they tell me, Mrs. Dr. dear, andI have taken it for mine, not thinking I could easily find a better. Ishall make the same kind of pudding today I always make on Saturday. Itis a good deal of trouble to make, and that is well, for it will employmy thoughts. I will remember that Kitchener is at the helm and Jofferis doing very well for a Frenchman. I shall get that box of cake off tolittle Jem and finish that pair of socks today likewise. A sock a dayis my allowance. Old Mrs. Albert Mead of Harbour Head manages a pairand a half a day but she has nothing to do but knit. You know, Mrs. Dr.dear, she has been bed-rid for years and she has been worrying terriblebecause she was no good to anybody and a dreadful expense, and yetcould not die and be out of the way. And now they tell me she is quitechirked up and resigned to living because there is something she cando, and she knits for the soldiers from daylight to dark. Even CousinSophia has taken to knitting, Mrs. Dr. dear, and it is a good thing,for she cannot think of quite so many doleful speeches to make when herhands are busy with her needles instead of being folded on her stomach.She thinks we will all be Germans this time next year but I tell her itwill take more than a year to make a German out of me. Do you know thatRick MacAllister has enlisted, Mrs. Dr. dear? And they say Joe Milgravewould too, only he is afraid that if he does that Whiskers-on-the-moonwill not let him have Miranda. Whiskers says that he will believe thestories of German atrocities when he sees them, and that it is a goodthing that Rangs Cathedral has been destroyed because it was a RomanCatholic church. Now, I am not a Roman Catholic, Mrs. Dr. dear, beingborn and bred a good Presbyterian and meaning to live and die one, butI maintain that the Catholics have as good a right to their churches aswe have to ours and that the Huns had no kind of business to destroythem. Just think, Mrs. Dr. dear," concluded Susan pathetically, "how wewould feel if a German shell knocked down the spire of our church herein the glen, and I'm sure it is every bit as bad to think of Rangscathedral being hammered to pieces."

  And, meanwhile, everywhere, the lads of the world rich and poor, lowand high, white and brown, were following the Piper's call.

  "Even Billy Andrews' boy is going--and Jane's only son--and Diana'slittle Jack," said Mrs. Blythe. "Priscilla's son has gone from Japanand Stella's from Vancouver--and both the Rev. Jo's boys. Philippawrites that her boys 'went right away, not being afflicted with herindecision.'"

  "Jem says that he thinks they will be leaving very soon now, and thathe will not be able to get leave to come so far before they go, as theywill have to start at a few hours' notice," said the doctor, passingthe letter to his wife.

  "That is not fair," said Susan indignantly. "Has Sir Sam Hughes noregard for our feelings? The idea of whisking that blessed boy away toEurope without letting us even have a last glimpse of him! If I wereyou, doctor dear, I would write to the papers about it."

  "Perhaps it is as well," said the disappointed mother. "I don't believeI could bear another parting from him--now that I know the war will notbe over as soon as we hoped when he left first. Oh, if only--but no, Iwon't say it! Like Susan and Rilla," concluded Mrs. Blythe, achieving alaugh, "I am determined to be a heroine."

  "You're all good stuff," said the doctor, "I'm proud of my women folk.Even Rilla here, my 'lily of the field,' is running a Red Cross Societyfull blast and saving a little life for Canada. That's a good piece ofwork. Rilla, daughter of Anne, what are you going to call yourwar-baby?"

  "I'm waiting to hear from Jim Anderson," said Rilla. "He may want toname his own child."

  But as the autumn weeks went by no word came from Jim Anderson, who hadnever been heard from since he sailed from Halifax, and to whom thefate of wife and child seemed a matter of indifference. EventuallyRilla decided to call the baby James, and Susan opined that Kitchenershould be added thereto. So James Kitchener Anderson became thepossessor of a name somewhat more imposing than himself. The Inglesidefamily promptly shortened it to Jims, but Susan obstinately called him"Little Kitchener" and nothing else.

  "Jims is no name for a Christian child, Mrs. Dr. dear," she saiddisapprovingly. "Cousin Sophia says it is too flippant, and for once Iconsider she utters sense, though I would not please her by openlyagreeing with her. As for the child, he is beginning to look somethinglike a baby, and I must admit that Rilla is wonderful with him, thoughI would not pamper pride by saying so to her face. Mrs. Dr. dear, Ishall never, no never, forget the first sight I had of that infant,lying in that big soup tureen, rolled up in dirty flannel. It is notoften that Susan Baker is flabbergasted, but flabbergasted I was then,and that you may tie to. For one awful moment I thought my mind hadgiven way and that I was seeing visions. Then thinks I, 'No, I neverheard of anyone having a vision of a soup tureen, so it must be real atleast,' and I plucked up confidence. When I heard the doctor tell Rillathat she must take care of the baby I thought he was joking, for I didnot believe for a minute she would or could do it. But you see what hashappened and it is making a woman of her. When we have to do a thing,Mrs. Dr. dear, we can do it."

  Susan added another proof to this concluding dictum of hers one day inOctober. The doctor and his wife were away. Rilla was presiding overJims' afternoon siesta upstairs, purling four and knitting one withceaseless vim. Susan was seated on the back veranda, shelling beans,and Cousin Sophia was helping her. Peace and tranquility brooded overthe Glen; the sky was fleeced over with silvery, shining clouds.Rainbow Valley lay in a soft, autumnal haze of fairy purple. The maplegrove was a burning bush of colour and the hedge of sweet-briar aroundthe kitchen yard was a thing of wonder in its subtle tintings. It didnot seem that strife could be in the world, and Susan's faithful heartwas lulled into a brief forgetfulness, although she had lain awake mostof the preceding night thinking of little Jem far out on the Atlantic,where the great fleet was carrying Canada's first army across theocean. Even Cousin Sophia looked less melancholy than usual andadmitted that there was not much fault to be found in the day, althoughthere was no doubt it was a weather-breeder and there would be an awfulstorm on its heels.

  "Things is too calm to last," she said.

  As if in confirmation of her assertion, a most unearthly din suddenlyarose behind them. It was quite impossible to describe the confusedmedley of bangs and rattles and muffled shrieks and yowls thatproceeded from the kitchen, accompanied by occasional crashes. Susanand Cousin Sophia stared at each other in dismay.

  "What upon airth has bruk loose in there?" gasped Cousin Sophia.

  "It must be that Hyde-cat gone clean mad at last," muttered Susan. "Ihave always expected it."

  Rilla came flying out of the side door of the living-room.

  "What has happened?" she demanded.

  "It is beyond me to say, but that possessed beast of yours is evidentlyat the bottom of it," said Susan. "Do not go near him, at least. I willopen the door and peep in. There goes some more of the crockery. I havealways said that the devil was in him and that I will tie to."

  "It is my opinion that the cat has hydrophobia," said Cousin Sophiasolemnly. "I once heard of a cat that went mad and bit threepeople--and they all died a most terrible death, and turned black asink."

  Undismayed by this, Susan opened the door and looked in. The floor waslittered with fragments of broken dishes, fo
r it seemed that the fataltragedy had taken place on the long dresser where Susan's array ofcooking bowls had been marshalled in shining state. Around the kitchentore a frantic cat, with his head wedged tightly in an old salmon can.Blindly he careered about with shrieks and profanity commingled, nowbanging the can madly against anything he encountered, now tryingvainly to wrench it off with his paws.

  The sight was so funny that Rilla doubled up with laughter. Susanlooked at her reproachfully.

  "I see nothing to laugh at. That beast has broken your ma's big bluemixing-bowl that she brought from Green Gables when she was married.That is no small calamity, in my opinion. But the thing to consider nowis how to get that can off Hyde's head."

  "Don't you dast go touching it," exclaimed Cousin Sophia, galvanizedinto animation. "It might be your death. Shut the kitchen up and sendfor Albert."

  "I am not in the habit of sending for Albert during familydifficulties," said Susan loftily. "That beast is in torment, andwhatever my opinion of him may be, I cannot endure to see him sufferingpain. You keep away, Rilla, for little Kitchener's sake, and I will seewhat I can do."

  Susan stalked undauntedly into the kitchen, seized an old storm coat ofthe doctor's and after a wild pursuit and several fruitless dashes andpounces, managed to throw it over the cat and can. Then she proceededto saw the can loose with a can-opener, while Rilla held the squirminganimal, rolled in the coat. Anything like Doc's shrieks while theprocess was going on was never heard at Ingleside. Susan was in mortaldread that the Albert Crawfords would hear it and conclude she wastorturing the creature to death. Doc was a wrathful and indignant catwhen he was freed. Evidently he thought the whole thing was a put-upjob to bring him low. He gave Susan a baleful glance by way ofgratitude and rushed out of the kitchen to take sanctuary in the jungleof the sweet-briar hedge, where he sulked for the rest of the day.Susan swept up her broken dishes grimly.

  "The Huns themselves couldn't have worked more havoc here," she saidbitterly. "But when people will keep a Satanic animal like that, inspite of all warnings, they cannot complain when their wedding bowlsget broken. Things have come to a pretty pass when an honest womancannot leave her kitchen for a few minutes without a fiend of a catrampaging through it with his head in a salmon can."