Rilla of Ingleside
over it. Well, as soon as I saw this hat I felt that I simply must have
it--and have it I did. The price was dreadful. I will not put it down
here because I don't want my descendants to know I was guilty of paying
so much for a hat, in war-time, too, when everybody is--or should
be--trying to be economical.
"When I got home and tried on the hat again in my room I was assailed
by qualms. Of course, it was very becoming; but somehow it seemed too
elaborate and fussy for church going and our quiet little doings in the
Glen--too conspicuous, in short. It hadn't seemed so at the milliner's
but here in my little white room it did. And that dreadful price tag!
And the starving Belgians! When mother saw the hat and the tag she just
looked at me. Mother is some expert at looking. Father says she looked
him into love with her years ago in Avonlea school and I can well
believe it--though I have heard a weird tale of her banging him over
the head with a slate at the very beginning of their acquaintance.
Mother was a limb when she was a little girl, I understand, and even up
to the time when Jem went away she was full of ginger. But let me
return to my mutton--that is to say, my new green velvet hat.
"'Do you think, Rilla,' mother said quietly--far too quietly--'that it
was right to spend so much for a hat, especially when the need of the
world is so great?'
"'I paid for it out of my own allowance, mother,' I exclaimed.
"'That is not the point. Your allowance is based on the principle of a
reasonable amount for each thing you need. If you pay too much for one
thing you must cut off somewhere else and that is not satisfactory. But
if you think you did right, Rilla, I have no more to say. I leave it to
your conscience.'
"I wish mother would not leave things to my conscience! And anyway,
what was I to do? I couldn't take that hat back--I had worn it to a
concert in town--I had to keep it! I was so uncomfortable that I flew
into a temper--a cold, calm, deadly temper.
"'Mother,' I said haughtily, 'I am sorry you disapprove of my hat--'
"'Not of the hat exactly,' said mother, 'though I consider it in
doubtful taste for so young a girl--but of the price you paid for it.'
"Being interrupted didn't improve my temper, so I went on, colder and
calmer and deadlier than ever, just as if mother had not spoken.
"'--but I have to keep it now. However, I promise you that I will not
get another hat for three years or for the duration of the war, if it
lasts longer than that. Even you'--oh, the sarcasm I put into the
'you'--'cannot say that what I paid was too much when spread over at
least three years.'
"'You will be very tired of that hat before three years, Rilla,' said
mother, with a provoking grin, which, being interpreted, meant that I
wouldn't stick it out.
"'Tired or not, I will wear it that long,' I said: and then I marched
upstairs and cried to think that I had been sarcastic to mother.
"I hate that hat already. But three years or the duration of the war, I
said, and three years or the duration of the war it shall be. I vowed
and I shall keep my vow, cost what it will.
"That is one of the 'catawampus' things. The other is that I have
quarrelled with Irene Howard--or she quarrelled with me--or, no, we
both quarrelled.
"The Junior Red Cross met here yesterday. The hour of meeting was
half-past two but Irene came at half-past one, because she got the
chance of a drive down from the Upper Glen. Irene hasn't been a bit
nice to me since the fuss about the eats; and besides I feel sure she
resents not being president. But I have been determined that things
should go smoothly, so I have never taken any notice, and when she came
yesterday she seemed so nice and sweet again that I hoped she had got
over her huffiness and we could be the chums we used to be.
"But as soon as we sat down Irene began to rub me the wrong way. I saw
her cast a look at my new knitting-bag. All the girls have always said
Irene was jealous-minded and I would never believe them before. But now
I feel that perhaps she is.
"The first thing she did was to pounce on Jims--Irene pretends to adore
babies--pick him out of his cradle and kiss him all over his face. Now,
Irene knows perfectly well that I don't like to have Jims kissed like
that. It is not hygienic. After she had worried him till he began to
fuss, she looked at me and gave quite a nasty little laugh but she
said, oh, so sweetly,
"'Why, Rilla, darling, you look as if you thought I was poisoning the
baby.'
"'Oh, no, I don't, Irene,' I said--every bit as sweetly, 'but you know
Morgan says that the only place a baby should be kissed is on its
forehead, for fear of germs, and that is my rule with Jims.'
"'Dear me, am I so full of germs?' said Irene plaintively. I knew she
was making fun of me and I began to boil inside--but outside no sign of
a simmer. I was determined I would not scrap with Irene.
"Then she began to bounce Jims. Now, Morgan says bouncing is almost the
worst thing that can be done to a baby. I never allow Jims to be
bounced. But Irene bounced him and that exasperating child liked it. He
smiled--for the very first time. He is four months old and he has never
smiled once before. Not even mother or Susan have been able to coax
that thing to smile, try as they would. And here he was smiling because
Irene Howard bounced him! Talk of gratitude!
"I admit that smile made a big difference in him. Two of the dearest
dimples came out in his cheeks and his big brown eyes seemed full of
laughter. The way Irene raved over those dimples was silly, I consider.
You would have supposed she thought she had really brought them into
existence. But I sewed steadily and did not enthuse, and soon Irene got
tired of bouncing Jims and put him back in his cradle. He did not like
that after being played with, and he began to cry and was fussy the
rest of the afternoon, whereas if Irene had only left him alone he
would not have been a bit of trouble.
"Irene looked at him and said, 'Does he often cry like that?' as if she
had never heard a baby crying before.
"I explained patiently that children have to cry so many minutes per
day in order to expand their lungs. Morgan says so.
"'If Jims didn't cry at all I'd have to make him cry for at least
twenty minutes,' I said.
"'Oh, indeed!' said Irene, laughing as if she didn't believe me.
'Morgan on the Care of Infants' was upstairs or I would soon have
convinced her. Then she said Jims didn't have much hair--she had never
seen a four months' old baby so bald.
"Of course, I knew Jims hadn't much hair--yet; but Irene said it in a
tone that seemed to imply it was my fault that he hadn't any hair. I
said I had seen dozens of babies every bit as bald as Jims, and Irene
said, Oh very well, she hadn't meant to offend me--when I wasn't
offended.
"It went on like that the rest of the hour--Irene kept giving me little
digs all the time. The girls have always said she was revengeful like
that if she were peeved about anything; but I never believed it before;
I used to think Irene just perfect, and it hurt me dreadfully to find
she could stoop to this. But I corked up my feelings and sewed away for
dear life on a Belgian child's nightgown.
"Then Irene told me the meanest, most contemptible thing that someone
had said about Walter. I won't write it down--I can't. Of course, she
said it made her furious to hear it and all that--but there was no need
for her to tell me such a thing even if she did hear it. She simply did
it to hurt me.
"I just exploded. 'How dare you come here and repeat such a thing about
my brother, Irene Howard?' I exclaimed. 'I shall never forgive
you--never. Your brother hasn't enlisted--hasn't any idea of enlisting.'
"'Why Rilla, dear, I didn't say it,' said Irene. 'I told you it was
Mrs. George Burr. And I told her--'
"'I don't want to hear what you told her. Don't you ever speak to me
again, Irene Howard.'
"Oh course, I shouldn't have said that. But it just seemed to say
itself. Then the other girls all came in a bunch and I had to calm down
and act the hostess' part as well as I could. Irene paired off with
Olive Kirk all the rest of the afternoon and went away without so much
as a look. So I suppose she means to take me at my word and I don't
care, for I do not want to be friends with a girl who could repeat such
a falsehood about Walter. But I feel unhappy over it for all that.
We've always been such good chums and until lately Irene was lovely to
me; and now another illusion has been stripped from my eyes and I feel
as if there wasn't such a thing as real true friendship in the world.
"Father got old Joe Mead to build a kennel for Dog Monday in the corner
of the shipping-shed today. We thought perhaps Monday would come home
when the cold weather came but he wouldn't. No earthly influence can
coax Monday away from that shed even for a few minutes. There he stays
and meets every train. So we had to do something to make him
comfortable. Joe built the kennel so that Monday could lie in it and
still see the platform, so we hope he will occupy it.
"Monday has become quite famous. A reporter of the Enterprise came out
from town and photographed him and wrote up the whole story of his
faithful vigil. It was published in the Enterprise and copied all over
Canada. But that doesn't matter to poor little Monday, Jem has gone
away--Monday doesn't know where or why--but he will wait until he comes
back. Somehow it comforts me: it's foolish, I suppose, but it gives me
a feeling that Jem will come back or else Monday wouldn't keep on
waiting for him.
"Jims is snoring beside me in his cradle. It is just a cold that makes
him snore--not adenoids. Irene had a cold yesterday and I know she gave
it to him, kissing him. He is not quite such a nuisance as he was; he
has got some backbone and can sit up quite nicely, and he loves his
bath now and splashes unsmilingly in the water instead of twisting and
shrieking. Oh, shall I ever forget those first two months! I don't know
how I lived through them. But here I am and here is Jims and we both
are going to 'carry on.' I tickled him a little bit tonight when I
undressed him--I wouldn't bounce him but Morgan doesn't mention
tickling--just to see if he would smile for me as well as Irene. And he
did--and out popped the dimples. What a pity his mother couldn't have
seen them!
"I finished my sixth pair of socks today. With the first three I got
Susan to set the heel for me. Then I thought that was a bit of
shirking, so I learned to do it myself. I hate it--but I have done so
many things I hate since 4th of August that one more or less doesn't
matter. I just think of Jem joking about the mud on Salisbury Plain and
I go at them."
CHAPTER XI
DARK AND BRIGHT
At Christmas the college boys and girls came home and for a little
while Ingleside was gay again. But all were not there--for the first
time one was missing from the circle round the Christmas table. Jem, of
the steady lips and fearless eyes, was far away, and Rilla felt that
the sight of his vacant chair was more than she could endure. Susan had
taken a stubborn freak and insisted on setting out Jem's place for him
as usual, with the twisted little napkin ring he had always had since a
boy, and the odd, high Green Gables goblet that Aunt Marilla had once
given him and from which he always insisted on drinking.
"That blessed boy shall have his place, Mrs. Dr. dear," said Susan
firmly, "and do not you feel over it, for you may be sure he is here in
spirit and next Christmas he will be here in the body. Wait you till
the Big Push comes in the spring and the war will be over in a jiffy."
They tried to think so, but a shadow stalked in the background of their