Susan."
"Why cannot you put in the evening as you want to?" broke in Susan, who thought Mrs. Dr. was really going a little wild.
"Because the doctor wants me to go for a drive with him. He is going to see poor old Mrs. John Paxton. She is dying … he can't do her any good … he has done everything he can … but she does like to have him drop in."
"Oh, well, Mrs. Dr. dear, we all know that nobody can die or be born without him hereabouts and it is a nice evening for a drive. I think I will take a walk down to the village myself and replenish our pantry after I put the twins and Shirley to bed and manure Mrs. Aaron Ward. She isn't blooming as she ought to. Miss Blythe has just gone upstairs, sighing at every step, saying one of her headaches is coming on, so there will be a little peace and quiet for the evening at least."
"See that Jem goes to bed in good time, will you, Susan?" said Anne as she went away through the evening that was like a cup of fragrance that has spilled over. "He's really much tireder than he thinks he is. And he never wants to go to bed. Walter is not coming home tonight, Leslie asked if he might stay there."
Jem was sitting on the steps of the side door, one bare foot hooked over his knee, scowling viciously at things in general and at an enormous moon behind the Glen church spire in particular. Jem didn't like such big moons.
"Take care your face doesn't freeze like that," Aunt Mary Maria had said as she passed him on her way into the house.
Jem scowled more blackly than ever. He didn't care if his face did freeze like that. He hoped it would. "Go 'way and don't come tagging after me all the time," he told Nan, who had crept out to him after Father and Mother had driven away.
"Cross-patch!" said Nan. But before she trotted off she laid down on the step beside him the red candy lion she had brought out to him.
Jem ignored it. He felt more abused than ever. He wasn't being used right. Everybody picked on him. Hadn't Nan that very morning said, "You weren't born at Ingleside like the rest of us." Di had et his chocolate rabbit that forenoon though she knew it was his rabbit. Even Walter had deserted him, going away to dig wells in the sand with Ken and Persis Ford. Great fun that! And he wanted so much to go with Bertie to see the tattooing. Jem was sure he had never wanted anything so much in his life before. He wanted to see the wonderful, full-rigged ship that Bertie said was always on Captain Bill's mantelpiece. It was a mean shame, that's what it was.
Susan brought him out a big slice of cake covered with maple frosting and nuts, but, "No, thank you," said Jem stonily. Why hadn't she saved some of the gingerbread and cream for him? S'pose the rest of them had et it all. Pigs! He plunged into a deeper gulf of gloom. The gang would be on their way to the Harbour Mouth by now. He just couldn't bear the thought. He'd got to do something to get square with folks. S'posin' he sliced Di's sawdust giraffe open on the living-room rug? That would make old Susan mad … Susan with her nuts, when she knew he hated nuts in frosting. S'posin' he went and drew a moustache on that picture of the cherub on the calendar in her room? He had always hated that fat, pink, smiling cherub because it looked just like Sissy Flagg who had told round school that Jem Blythe was her beau. Hers! Sissy Flagg! But Susan thought that cherub lovely.
S'posin' he scalped Nan's doll? S'posin' he whacked the nose off Gog or Magog … or both of them? Maybe that would make Mother see he wasn't a baby any longer. Just wait till next spring! He had brought her mayflowers for years and years and years … ever since he was four … but he wouldn't do it next spring. No, sir!
S'posin' he et a lot of the little green apples on the early tree and got nice and sick? Maybe that would scare them. S'posin' he never washed behind his ears again? S'posin' he made faces at everybody in church next Sunday? S'posin' he put a caterpillar on Aunt Mary Maria … a big, striped, woolly caterpillar? S'posin' he ran away to the harbour and hid in Captain David Reese's ship and sailed out of the harbour in the morning on his way to South America? Would they be sorry then? S'posin' he never came back? S'posin' he went hunting jaggers in Brazil? Would they be sorry then? No, he bet they wouldn't. Nobody loved him. There was a hole in his pants pocket. Nobody had mended it. Well, he didn't care. He'd just show that hole to everybody in the Glen and let people see how neglected he was. His wrongs surged up and overwhelmed him.
Tick-tack … tick-tack … tick-tack … went the old grandfather clock in the hall that had been brought to Ingleside after Grandfather Blythe's death … a deliberate old clock dating from the days when there was such a thing as time. Generally Jem loved it … now he hated it. It seemed to be laughing at him. "Ha, ha, bedtime is coming. The other fellows can go to the Harbour Mouth but you go to bed. Ha, ha … ha, ha … ha, ha!"
Why did he have to go to bed every night? Yes, why?
Susan came out on her way to the Glen and looked tenderly at the small, rebellious figure.
"You needn't go to bed till I get back, Little Jem," she said indulgently.
"I ain't going to bed tonight!" said Jem fiercely. "I'm going to run away, that's what I'm going to do, old Susan Baker. I'm going to go and jump into the pond, old Susan Baker."
Susan did not enjoy being called old, even by Little Jem. She stalked away in a grim silence. He did need a bit of disciplining. The Shrimp, who had followed her out, feeling a yearning for companionship, squatted down on his black haunches before Jem, but got only a glare for his pains. "Clear out! Sitting there on your bottom, staring like Aunt Mary Maria! Scat! Oh, you won't, won't you! Then take that!"
Jem shied Shirley's little tin wheelbarrow that was lying handily near, and the Shrimp fled with a plaintive yowl to the sanctuary of the sweetbriar hedge. Look at that! Even the family cat hated him! What was the use of going on living?
He picked up the candy lion. Nan had eaten the tail and most of the hindquarters but it was still quite a lion. Might as well eat it. It might be the last lion he'd ever eat. By the time Jem had finished the lion and licked his fingers he had made up his mind what he was going to do. It was the only thing a fellow could do when a fellow wasn't allowed to do anything.
CHAPTER VI.
"Why in the world is the house lighted up like that?" exclaimed Anne, when she and Gilbert turned in at the gate at eleven o'clock. "Company must have come."
But there was no company visible when Anne hurried into the house. Nor was anyone else visible. There was a light in the kitchen … in the living-room … in the library … in the dining-room … in Susan's room and the upstairs hall … but no sign of an occupant.
"What do you suppose," began Anne … but she was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. Gilbert answered … listened for a moment, … uttered an ejaculation of horror … and tore out without even a glance at Anne. Evidently something dreadful had happened and there was no time to be wasted in explanations.
Anne was used to this … as the wife of a man who waits on life and death must be. With a philosophical shrug she removed her hat and coat. She felt a trifle annoyed with Susan, who really shouldn't have gone out and left all the lights blazing and all the doors wide open.
"Mrs. … Dr. … dear," said a voice that could not possibly be Susan's … but was.
Anne stared at Susan. Such as Susan … hatless … her grey hair full of bits of hay … her print dress shockingly stained and discoloured. And her face!
"Susan! What has happened? Susan!"
"Little
