The Quarantine at Alexander Abraham’s

Chronicles of Avonlea by L. M. Montgomery, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . The Quarantine at Alexander Abraham’s VIII. The Quarantine at Alexander Abraham’s I refused to take that class in Sunday School the first time I was asked. It was not that I objected to teaching in the Sunday School. On the contrary I rather liked the idea; but it was the Rev. Mr. Allan who asked me, and it had always been a matter of principle with me never to do anything a man asked me to do if I could help it. I was noted for that. It saves a great deal of trouble and it simplifies everything beautifully. I had always disliked men. It must have been born in me, because, as far back as I can remember, an antipathy to men and dogs was one of my strongest characteristics. I was noted for that. My experiences through life only served to deepen it. The more I saw of men, the more I liked cats. So, of course, when the Rev. Allan asked me if I would consent to take a class in Sunday School, I said no in a fashion calculated to chasten him wholesomely. If he had sent his wife the first time, as he did the second, it would have been wiser. People generally do what Mrs. Allan asks them to do because they know it saves time. Mrs. Allan talked smoothly for half an hour before she mentioned the Sunday School, and paid me several compliments. Mrs. Allan is famous for her tact. Tact is a faculty for meandering around to a given point instead of making a bee-line. I have no tact. I am noted for that. As soon as Mrs. Allan’s conversation came in sight of the Sunday School, I, who knew all along whither it was tending, said, straight out, “What class do you want me to teach?” Mrs. Allan was so surprised that she forgot to be tactful, and answered plainly for once in her life, “There are two classes—one of boys and one of girls—needing a teacher. I have been teaching the girls’ class, but I shall have to give it up for a little time on account of the baby’s health. You may have your choice, Miss MacPherson.” “Then I shall take the boys,” I said decidedly. I am noted for my decision. “Since they have to grow up to be men it’s well to train them properly betimes. Nuisances they are bound to become under any circumstances; but if they are taken in hand young enough they may not grow up to be such nuisances as they otherwise would and that will be some unfortunate woman’s gain.” Mrs. Allan looked dubious. I knew she had expected me to choose the girls. “They are a very wild set of boys,” she said. “I never knew boys who weren’t,” I retorted. “I—I—think perhaps you would like the girls best,” said Mrs. Allan hesitatingly. If it had not been for one thing—which I would never in this world have admitted to Mrs. Allan—I might have liked the girls’ class best myself. But the truth was, Anne Shirley was in that class; and Anne Shirley was the one living human being that I was afraid of. Not that I disliked her. But she had such a habit of asking weird, unexpected questions, which a Philadelphia lawyer couldn’t answer. Miss Rogerson had that class once and Anne routed her, horse, foot and artillery. I wasn’t going to undertake a class with a walking interrogation point in it like that. Besides, I thought Mrs. Allan required a slight snub. Ministers’ wives are rather apt to think they can run everything and everybody, if they are not wholesomely corrected now and again. “It is not what I like best that must be considered, Mrs. Allan,” I said rebukingly. “It is what is best for those boys. I feel that I shall be best for THEM.” “Oh, I’ve no doubt of that, Miss MacPherson,” said Mrs. Allan amiably. It was a fib for her, minister’s wife though she was. She HAD doubt. She thought I would be a dismal failure as teacher of a boys’ class. But I was not. I am not often a dismal failure when I make up my mind to do a thing. I am noted for that. “It is wonderful what a reformation you have worked in that class, Miss MacPherson—wonderful,” said the Rev. Mr. Allan some weeks later. He didn’t mean to show how amazing a thing he thought it that an old maid noted for being a man hater should have managed it, but his face betrayed him. “Where does Jimmy Spencer live?” I asked him crisply. “He came one Sunday three weeks ago and hasn’t been back since. I mean to find out why.” Mr. Allan coughed. “I believe he is hired as handy boy with Alexander Abraham Bennett, out on the White Sands road,” he said. “Then I am going out to Alexander Abraham Bennett’s on the White Sands road to see why Jimmy Spencer doesn’t come to Sunday school,” I said firmly. Mr. Allan’s eyes twinkled ever so slightly. I have always insisted that if that man were not a minister he would have a sense of humour. “Possibly Mr. Bennett will not appreciate your kind interest! He has—ah—a singular aversion to your sex, I understand. No woman has ever been known to get inside of Mr. Bennett’s house since his sister died twenty years ago.” “Oh, he is the one, is he?” I said, remembering. “He is the woman hater who threatens that if a woman comes into his yard he’ll chase her out with a pitch-fork. Well, he will not chase ME out!” Mr. Allan gave a chuckle—a ministerial chuckle, but still a chuckle. It irritated me slightly, because it seemed to imply that he thought Alexander Abraham Bennett would be one too many for me. But I did not show Mr. Allan that he annoyed me. It is always a great mistake to let a man see that he can vex you. The next afternoon I harnessed my sorrel pony to the buggy and drove down to Alexander Abraham Bennett’s. As usual, I took William Adolphus with me for company. William Adolphus is my favourite among my six cats. He is black, with a white dicky and beautiful white paws. He sat up on the seat beside me and looked far more like a gentleman than many a man I’ve seen in a similar position. Alexander Abraham’s place was about three miles along the White Sands road. I knew the house as soon as I came to it by its neglected appearance. It needed paint badly; the blinds were crooked and torn; weeds grew up to the very door. Plainly, there was no woman about THAT place. Still, it was a nice house, and the barns were splendid. My father always said that when a man’s barns were bigger than his house it was a sign that his income exceeded his expenditure. So it was all right that they should be bigger; but it was all wrong that they should be trimmer and better painted. Still, thought I, what else could you expect of a woman hater? “But Alexander Abraham evidently knows how to run a farm, even it he is a woman hater,” I remarked to William Adolphus as I got out and tied the pony to the railing. I had driven up to the house from the back way and now I was opposite a side door opening on the veranda. I thought I might as well go to it, so I tucked William Adolphus under my arm and marched up the path. Just as I was half-way up, a dog swooped around the front corner and made straight for me. He was the ugliest dog I had ever seen; and he didn’t even bark—just came silently and speedily on, with a business-like eye. I never stop to argue matters with a dog that doesn’t bark. I know when discretion is the better part of valour. Firmly clasping William Adolphus, I ran—not to the door, because the dog was between me and it, but to a big, low-branching cherry tree at the back corner of the house. I reached it in time and no more. First thrusting William Adolphus on to a limb above my head, I scrambled up into that blessed tree without stopping to think how it might look to Alexander Abraham if he happened to be watching. My time for reflection came when I found myself perched half way up the tree with William Adolphus beside me. William Adolphus was quite calm and unruffled. I can hardly say with truthfulness what I was. On the contrary, I admit that I felt considerably upset. The dog was sitting on his haunches on the ground below, watching us, and it was quite plain to be seen, from his leisurely manner, that it was not his busy day. He bared his teeth and growled when he caught my eye. “You LOOK like a woman hater’s dog,” I told him. I meant it for an insult; but the beast took it for a compliment. Then I set myself to solving the question, “How am I to get out of this predicament?” It did not seem easy to solve it. “Shall I scream, William Adolphus?” I demanded of that intelligent animal. William Adolphus shook his head. This is a fact. And I agreed with him. “No, I shall not scream, William Adolphus,” I said. “There is probably no one to hear me except Alexander Abraham, and I have my painful doubts about his tender mercies. Now, it is impossible to go down. Is it, then, William Adolphus, possible to go up?” I looked up. Just above my head was an open window with a tolerably stout branch extending right across it. “Shall we try that way, William Adolphus?” I asked. William Adolphus, wasting no words, began to climb the tree. I followed his example. The dog ran in circles about the tree and looked things not lawful to be uttered. It probably would have been a relief to him to bark if it hadn’t been so against his principles. I got in by the window easily enough, and found myself in a bedroom the like of which for disorder and dust and general awfulness I had never seen in all my life. But I did not pause to take in details. With William Adolphus under my arm I marched downstairs, fervently hoping I should meet no one on the way. I did not. The hall below was empty and dusty. I opened the first door I came to and walked boldly in. A man was sitting by the window, looking moodily out. I should have known him for Alexander Abraham anywhere. He had just the same uncared-for, ragged appearance that the house had; and yet, like the house, it seemed that he would not be bad looking if he were trimmed up a little. His hair looked as if it had never been combed, and his whiskers were wild in the extreme. He looked at me with blank amazement in his countenance. “Where is Jimmy Spencer?” I demanded. “I have come to see him.” “How did he ever let you in?” asked the man, staring at me. “He didn’t let me in,” I retorted. “He chased me all over the lawn, and I only saved myself from being torn piecemeal by scrambling up a tree. You ought to be prosecuted for keeping such a dog! Where is Jimmy?” Instead of answering Alexander Abraham began to laugh in a most unpleasant fashion. “Trust a woman for getting into a man’s house if she has made up her mind to,” he said disagreeably. Seeing that it was his intention to vex me I remained cool and collected. “Oh, I wasn’t particular about getting into your house, Mr. Bennett,” I said calmly. “I had but little choice in the matter. It was get in lest a worse fate befall me. It was not you or your house I wanted to see—although I admit that it is worth seeing if a person is anxious to find out how dirty a place CAN be. It was Jimmy. For the third and last time—where is Jimmy?” “Jimmy is not here,” said Mr. Bennett gruffly—but not quite so assuredly. “He left last week and hired with a man over at Newbridge.” “In that case,” I said, picking up William Adolphus, who had been exploring the room with a disdainful air, “I won’t disturb you any longer. I shall go.” “Yes, I think it would be the wisest thing,” said Alexander Abraham—not disagreeably this time, but reflectively, as if there was some doubt about the matter. “I’ll let you out by the back door. Then the—ahem!—the dog will not interfere with you. Please go away quietly and quickly.” I wondered if Alexander Abraham thought I would go away with a whoop. But I said nothing, thinking this the most dignified course of conduct, and I followed him out to the kitchen as quickly and quietly as he could have wished. Such a kitchen! Alexander Abraham opened the door—which was locked—just as a buggy containing two men drove into the yard. “Too late!” he exclaimed in a tragic tone. I understood that something dreadful must have happened, but I did not care, since, as I fondly supposed, it did not concern me. I pushed out past Alexander Abraham—who was looking as guilty as if he had been caught burglarizing—and came face to face with the man who had sprung from the buggy. It was old Dr. Blair, from Carmody, and he was looking at me as if he had found me shoplifting. “My dear Peter,” he said gravely, “I am VERY sorry to see you here—very sorry indeed.” I admit that this exasperated me. Besides, no man on earth, not even my own family doctor, has any right to “My dear Peter” me! “There is no loud call for sorrow, doctor,” I said loftily. “If a woman, forty-eight years of age, a member of the Presbyterian church in good and regular standing, cannot call upon one of her Sunday School scholars without wrecking all the proprieties, how old must she be before she can?” The doctor did not answer my question. Instead, he looked reproachfully at Alexander Abraham. “Is this how you keep your word, Mr. Bennett?” he said. “I thought that you promised me that you would not let anyone into the house.” “I didn’t let her in,” growled Mr. Bennett. “Good heavens, man, she climbed in at an upstairs window, despite the presence on my grounds of a policeman and a dog! What is to be done with a woman like that?” “I do not understand what all this means,” I said addressing myself to the doctor and ignoring Alexander Abraham entirely, “but if my presence here is so extremely inconvenient to all concerned, you can soon be relieved of it. I am going at once.” “I am very sorry, my dear Peter,” said the doctor impressively, “but that is just what I cannot allow you to do. This house is under quarantine for smallpox. You will have to stay here.” Smallpox! For the first and last time in my life, I openly lost my temper with a man. I wheeled furiously upon Alexander Abraham. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I cried. “Tell you!” he said, glaring at me. “When I first saw you it was too late to tell you. I thought the kindest thing I could do was to hold my tongue and let you get away in happy ignorance. This will teach you to take a man’s house by storm, madam!” “Now, now, don’t quarrel, my good people,” interposed the doctor seriously—but I saw a twinkle in his eye. “You’ll have to spend some time together under the same roof and you won’t improve the situation by disagreeing. You see, Peter, it was this way. Mr. Bennett was in town yesterday—where, as you are aware, there is a bad outbreak of smallpox—and took dinner in a boarding-house where one of the maids was ill. Last night she developed unmistakable symptoms of smallpox. The Board of Health at once got after all the people who were in the house yesterday, so far as they could locate them, and put them under quarantine. I came down here this morning and explained the matter to Mr. Bennett. I brought Jeremiah Jeffries to guard the front of the house and Mr. Bennett gave me his word of honour that he would not let anyone in by the back way while I went to get another policeman and make all the necessary arrangements. I have brought Thomas Wright and have secured the services of another man to attend to Mr. Bennett’s barn work and bring provisions to the house. Jacob Green and Cleophas Lee will watch at night. I don’t think there is much danger of Mr. Bennett’s taking the smallpox, but until we are sure you must remain here, Peter.” While listening to the doctor I had been thinking. It was the most distressing predicament I had ever got into in my life, but there was no sense in making it worse. “Very well, doctor,” I said calmly. “Yes, I was vaccinated a month ago, when the news of the smallpox first came. When you go back through Avonlea kindly go to Sarah Pye and ask her to live in my house during my absence and look after things, especially the cats. Tell her to give them new milk twice a day and a square inch of butter apiece once a week. Get her to put my two dark print wrappers, some aprons, and some changes of underclothing in my third best valise and have it sent down to me. My pony is tied out there to the fence. Please take him home. That is all, I think.” “No, it isn’t all,” said Alexander Abraham grumpily. “Send that cat home, too. I won’t have a cat around the place—I’d rather have smallpox.” I looked Alexander Abraham over gradually, in a way I have, beginning at his feet and traveling up to his head. I took my time over it; and then I said, very quietly. “You may have both. Anyway, you’ll have to have William Adolphus. He is under quarantine as well as you and I. Do you suppose I am going to have my cat ranging at large through Avonlea, scattering smallpox germs among innocent people? I’ll have to put up with that dog of yours. You will have to endure William Adolphus.” Alexander Abraham groaned, but I could see that the way I had looked him over had chastened him considerably. The doctor drove away, and I went into the house, not choosing to linger outside and be grinned at by Thomas Wright. I hung my coat up in the hall and laid my bonnet carefully on the sitting-room table, having first dusted a clean place for it with my handkerchief. I longed to fall upon that house at once and clean it up, but I had to wait until the doctor came back with my wrapper. I could not clean house in my new suit and a silk shirtwaist. Alexander Abraham was sitting on a chair looking at me. Presently he said, “I am NOT curious—but will you kindly tell me why the doctor called you Peter?” “Because that is my name, I suppose,” I answered, shaking up a cushion for William Adolphus and thereby disturbing the dust of years. Alexander Abraham coughed gently. “Isn’t that—ahem!—rather a peculiar name for a woman?” “It is,” I said, wondering how much soap, if any, there was in the house. “I am NOT curious,” said Alexander Abraham, “but would you mind telling me how you came to be called Peter?” “If I had been a boy my parents intended to call me Peter in honour of a rich uncle. When I—fortunately—turned out to be a girl my mother insisted that I should be called Angelina. They gave me both names and called me Angelina, but as soon as I grew old enough I decided to be called Peter. It was bad enough, but not so bad as Angelina.” “I should say it was more appropriate,” said Alexander Abraham, intending, as I perceived, to be disagreeable. “Precisely,” I agreed calmly. “My last name is MacPherson, and I live in Avonlea. As you are NOT curious, that will be all the information you will need about me.” “Oh!” Alexander Abraham looked as if a light had broken in on him. “I’ve heard of you. You—ah—pretend to dislike men.” Pretend! Goodness only knows what would have happened to Alexander Abraham just then if a diversion had not taken place. But the door opened and a dog came in—THE dog. I suppose he had got tired waiting under the cherry tree for William Adolphus and me to come down. He was even uglier indoors than out. “Oh, Mr. Riley, Mr. Riley, see what you have let me in for,” said Alexander Abraham reproachfully. But Mr. Riley—since that was the brute’s name—paid no attention to Alexander Abraham. He had caught sight of William Adolphus curled up on the cushion, and he started across the room to investigate him. William Adolphus sat up and began to take notice. “Call off that dog,” I said warningly to Alexander Abraham. “Call him off yourself,” he retorted. “Since you’ve brought that cat here you can protect him.” “Oh, it wasn’t for William Adolphus’ sake I spoke,” I said pleasantly. “William Adolphus can protect himself.” William Adolphus could and did. He humped his back, flattened his ears, swore once, and then made a flying leap for Mr. Riley. William Adolphus landed squarely on Mr. Riley’s brindled back and promptly took fast hold, spitting and clawing and caterwauling. You never saw a more astonished dog than Mr. Riley. With a yell of terror he bolted out to the kitchen, out of the kitchen into the hall, through the hall into the room, and so into the kitchen and round again. With each circuit he went faster and faster, until he looked like a brindled streak with a dash of black and white on top. Such a racket and commotion I never heard, and I laughed until the tears came into my eyes. Mr. Riley flew around and around, and William Adolphus held on grimly and clawed. Alexander Abraham turned purple with rage. “Woman, call off that infernal cat before he kills my dog,” he shouted above the din of yelps and yowls. “Oh, he won’t kill him,” I said reassuringly, “and he’s going too fast to hear me if I did call him. If you can stop the dog, Mr. Bennett, I’ll guarantee to make William Adolphus listen to reason, but there’s no use trying to argue with a lightning flash.” Alexander Abraham made a frantic lunge at the brindled streak as it whirled past him, with the result that he overbalanced himself and went sprawling on the floor with a crash. I ran to help him up, which only seemed to enrage him further. “Woman,” he spluttered viciously, “I wish you and your fiend of a cat were in—in—” “In Avonlea,” I finished quickly, to save Alexander Abraham from committing profanity. “So do I, Mr. Bennett, with all my heart. But since we are not, let us make the best of it like sensible people. And in future you will kindly remember that my name is Miss MacPherson, NOT Woman!” With this the end came and I was thankful, for the noise those two animals made was so terrific that I expected the policeman would be rushing in, smallpox or no smallpox, to see if Alexander Abraham and I were trying to murder each other. Mr. Riley suddenly veered in his mad career and bolted into a dark corner between the stove and the wood-box, William Adolphus let go just in time. There never was any more trouble with Mr. Riley after that. A meeker, more thoroughly chastened dog you could not find. William Adolphus had the best of it and he kept it. Seeing that things had calmed down and that it was five o’clock I decided to get tea. I told Alexander Abraham that I would prepare it, if he would show me where the eatables were. “You needn’t mind,” said Alexander Abraham. “I’ve been in the habit of getting my own tea for twenty years.” “I daresay. But you haven’t been in the habit of getting mine,” I said firmly. “I wouldn’t eat anything you cooked if I starved to death. If you want some occupation, you’d better get some salve and anoint the scratches on that poor dog’s back.” Alexander Abraham said something that I prudently did not hear. Seeing that he had no information to hand out I went on an exploring expedition into the pantry. The place was awful beyond description, and for the first time a vague sentiment of pity for Alexander Abraham glimmered in my breast. When a man had to live in such surroundings the wonder was, not that he hated women, but that he didn’t hate the whole human race. But I got up a supper somehow. I am noted for getting up suppers. The bread was from the Carmody bakery and I made good tea and excellent toast; besides, I found a can of peaches in the pantry which, as they were bought, I wasn’t afraid to eat. That tea and toast mellowed Alexander Abraham in spite of himself. He ate the last crust, and didn’t growl when I gave William Adolphus all the cream that was left. Mr. Riley did not seem to want anything. He had no appetite. By this time the doctor’s boy had arrived with my valise. Alexander Abraham gave me quite civilly to understand that there was a spare room across the hall and that I might take possession of it. I went to it and put on a wrapper. There was a set of fine furniture in the room, and a comfortable bed. But the dust! William Adolphus had followed me in and his paws left marks everywhere he walked. “Now,” I said briskly, returning to the kitchen, “I’m going to clean up and I shall begin with this kitchen. You’d better betake yourself to the sitting-room, Mr. Bennett, so as to be out of the way.” Alexander Abraham glared at me. “I’m not going to have my house meddled with,” he snapped. “It suits me. If you don’t like it you can leave it.” “No, I can’t. That is just the trouble,” I said pleasantly. “If I could leave it I shouldn’t be here for a minute. Since I can’t, it simply has to be cleaned. I can tolerate men and dogs when I am compelled to, but I cannot and will not tolerate dirt and disorder. Go into the sitting-room.” Alexander Abraham went. As he closed the door, I heard him say, in capitals, “WHAT AN AWFUL WOMAN!” I cleared that kitchen and the pantry adjoining. It was ten o’clock when I got through, and Alexander Abraham had gone to bed without deigning further speech. I locked Mr. Riley in one room and William Adolphus in another and went to bed, too. I had never felt so dead tired in my life before. It had been a hard day. But I got up bright and early the next morning and got a tiptop breakfast, which Alexander Abraham condescended to eat. When the provision man came into the yard I called to him from the window to bring me a box of soap in the afternoon, and then I tackled the sitting-room. It took me the best part of a week to get that house in order, but I did it thoroughly. I am noted for doing things thoroughly. At the end of the time it was clean from garret to cellar. Alexander Abraham made no comments on my operations, though he groaned loud and often, and said caustic things to poor Mr. Riley, who hadn’t the spirit to answer back after his drubbing by William Adolphus. I made allowances for Alexander Abraham because his vaccination had taken and his arm was real sore; and I cooked elegant meals, not having much else to do, once I had got things scoured up. The house was full of provisions—Alexander Abraham wasn’t mean about such things, I will say that for him. Altogether, I was more comfortable than I had expected to be. When Alexander Abraham wouldn’t talk I let him alone; and when he would I just said as sarcastic things as he did, only I said them smiling and pleasant. I could see he had a wholesome awe for me. But now and then he seemed to forget his disposition and talked like a human being. We had one or two real interesting conversations. Alexander Abraham was an intelligent man, though he had got terribly warped. I told him once I thought he must have been nice when he was a boy. One day he astonished me by appearing at the dinner table with his hair brushed and a white collar on. We had a tiptop dinner that day, and I had made a pudding that was far too good for a woman hater. When Alexander Abraham had disposed of two large platefuls of it, he sighed and said, “You can certainly cook. It’s a pity you are such a detestable crank in other respects.” “It’s kind of convenient being a crank,” I said. “People are careful how they meddle with you. Haven’t you found that out in your own experience?” “I am NOT a crank,” growled Alexander Abraham resentfully. “All I ask is to be let alone.” “That’s the very crankiest kind of crank,” I said. “A person who wants to be let alone flies in the face of Providence, who decreed that folks for their own good were not to be let alone. But cheer up, Mr. Bennett. The quarantine will be up on Tuesday and then you’ll certainly be let alone for the rest of your natural life, as far as William Adolphus and I are concerned. You may then return to your wallowing in the mire and be as dirty and comfortable as of yore.” Alexander Abraham growled again. The prospect didn’t seem to cheer him up as much as I should have expected. Then he did an amazing thing. He poured some cream into a saucer and set it down before William Adolphus. William Adolphus lapped it up, keeping one eye on Alexander Abraham lest the latter should change his mind. Not to be outdone, I handed Mr. Riley a bone. Neither Alexander Abraham nor I had worried much about the smallpox. We didn’t believe he would take it, for he hadn’t even seen the girl who was sick. But the very next morning I heard him calling me from the upstairs landing. “Miss MacPherson,” he said in a voice so uncommonly mild that it gave me an uncanny feeling, “what are the symptoms of smallpox?” “Chills and flushes, pain in the limbs and back, nausea and vomiting,” I answered promptly, for I had been reading them up in a patent medicine almanac. “I’ve got them all,” said Alexander Abraham hollowly. I didn’t feel as much scared as I should have expected. After enduring a woman hater and a brindled dog and the early disorder of that house—and coming off best with all three—smallpox seemed rather insignificant. I went to the window and called to Thomas Wright to send for the doctor. The doctor came down from Alexander Abraham’s room looking grave. “It’s impossible to pronounce on the disease yet,” he said. “There is no certainty until the eruption appears. But, of course, there is every likelihood that it is the smallpox. It is very unfortunate. I am afraid that it will be difficult to get a nurse. All the nurses in town who will take smallpox cases are overbusy now, for the epidemic is still raging there. However, I’ll go into town to-night and do my best. Meanwhile, at present, you must not go near him, Peter.” I wasn’t going to take orders from any man, and as soon as the doctor had gone I marched straight up to Alexander Abraham’s room with some dinner for him on a tray. There was a lemon cream I thought he could eat even if he had the smallpox. “You shouldn’t come near me,” he growled. “You are risking your life.” “I am not going to see a fellow creature starve to death, even if he is a man,” I retorted. “The worst of it all,” groaned Alexander Abraham, between mouthfuls of lemon cream, “is that the doctor says I’ve got to have a nurse. I’ve got so kind of used to you being in the house that I don’t mind you, but the thought of another woman coming here is too much. Did you give my poor dog anything to eat?” “He has had a better dinner than many a Christian,” I said severely. Alexander Abraham need not have worried about another woman coming in. The doctor came back that night with care on his brow. “I don’t know what is to be done,” he said. “I can’t get a soul to come here.” “I shall nurse Mr. Bennett,” I said with dignity. “It is my duty and I never shirk my duty. I am noted for that. He is a man, and he has smallpox, and he keeps a vile dog; but I am not going to see him die for lack of care for all that.” “You’re a good soul, Peter,” said the doctor, looking relieved, manlike, as soon as he found a woman to shoulder the responsibility. I nursed Alexander Abraham through the smallpox, and I didn’t mind it much. He was much more amiable sick than well, and he had the disease in a very mild form. Below stairs I reigned supreme and Mr. Riley and William Adolphus lay down together like the lion and the lamb. I fed Mr. Riley regularly, and once, seeing him looking lonesome, I patted him gingerly. It was nicer than I thought it would be. Mr. Riley lifted his head and looked at me with an expression in his eyes which cured me of wondering why on earth Alexander Abraham was so fond of the beast. When Alexander Abraham was able to sit up, he began to make up for the time he’d lost being pleasant. Anything more sarcastic than that man in his convalescence you couldn’t imagine. I just laughed at him, having found out that that could be depended on to irritate him. To irritate him still further I cleaned the house all over again. But what vexed him most of all was that Mr. Riley took to following me about and wagging what he had of a tail at me. “It wasn’t enough that you should come into my peaceful home and turn it upside down, but you have to alienate the affections of my dog,” complained Alexander Abraham. “He’ll get fond of you again when I go home,” I said comfortingly. “Dogs aren’t very particular that way. What they want is bones. Cats now, they love disinterestedly. William Adolphus has never swerved in his allegiance to me, although you do give him cream in the pantry on the sly.” Alexander Abraham looked foolish. He hadn’t thought I knew that. I didn’t take the smallpox and in another week the doctor came out and sent the policeman home. I was disinfected and William Adolphus was fumigated, and then we were free to go. “Good-bye, Mr. Bennett,” I said, offering to shake hands in a forgiving spirit. “I’ve no doubt that you are glad to be rid of me, but you are no gladder than I am to go. I suppose this house will be dirtier than ever in a month’s time, and Mr. Riley will have discarded the little polish his manners have taken on. Reformation with men and dogs never goes very deep.” With this Parthian shaft I walked out of the house, supposing that I had seen the last of it and Alexander Abraham. I was glad to get back home, of course; but it did seem queer and lonesome. The cats hardly knew me, and William Adolphus roamed about forlornly and appeared to feel like an exile. I didn’t take as much pleasure in cooking as usual, for it seemed kind of foolish to be fussing over oneself. The sight of a bone made me think of poor Mr. Riley. The neighbours avoided me pointedly, for they couldn’t get rid of the fear that I might erupt into smallpox at any moment. My Sunday School class had been given to another woman, and altogether I felt as if I didn’t belong anywhere. I had existed like this for a fortnight when Alexander Abraham suddenly appeared. He walked in one evening at dusk, but at first sight I didn’t know him he was so spruced and barbered up. But William Adolphus knew him. Will you believe it, William Adolphus, my own William Adolphus, rubbed up against that man’s trouser leg with an undisguised purr of satisfaction. “I had to come, Angelina,” said Alexander Abraham. “I couldn’t stand it any longer.” “My name is Peter,” I said coldly, although I was feeling ridiculously glad about something. “It isn’t,” said Alexander Abraham stubbornly. “It is Angelina for me, and always will be. I shall never call you Peter. Angelina just suits you exactly; and Angelina Bennett would suit you still better. You must come back, Angelina. Mr. Riley is moping for you, and I can’t get along without somebody to appreciate my sarcasms, now that you have accustomed me to the luxury.” “What about the other five cats?” I demanded. Alexander Abraham sighed. “I suppose they’ll have to come too,” he sighed, “though no doubt they’ll chase poor Mr. Riley clean off the premises. But I can live without him, and I can’t without you. How soon can you be ready to marry me?” “I haven’t said that I was going to marry you at all, have I?” I said tartly, just to be consistent. For I wasn’t feeling tart. “No, but you will, won’t you?” said Alexander Abraham anxiously. “Because if you won’t, I wish you’d let me die of the smallpox. Do, dear Angelina.” To think that a man should dare to call me his “dear Angelina!” And to think that I shouldn’t mind! “Where I go, William Adolphus goes,” I said, “but I shall give away the other five cats for—for the sake of Mr. Riley.” About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. L. M. Montgomery (1998). Chronicles of Avonlea. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/1354/pg1354-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org , located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html .