for him. When I protested, she said they were really driven to it for peace’ sake. Rebecca Dew has been constantly complaining about him all summer and there seems to be no other way of satisfying her. Poor Dusty Miller … and he is such a nice, prowly, purry darling!
“Tomorrow, being Saturday, I’m going to look after Mrs. Raymond’s twins while she goes to Charlottetown to the funeral of some relative. Mrs. Raymond is a widow who came to our town last winter. Rebecca Dew and the Windy Poplars widows … really, Summerside is a great place for widows … think her a ‘little too grand’ for Summerside, but she was really a wonderful help to Katherine and me in our Dramatic Club activities. One good turn deserves another.
“Gerald and Geraldine are eight and are a pair of angelic-looking youngsters, but Rebecca Dew ‘pulled a mouth,’ to use one of her own expressions, when I told her what I was going to do.
“‘But I love children, Rebecca.’
“‘Children, yes, but them’s holy terrors, Miss Shirley. Mrs. Raymond doesn’t believe in punishing children no matter what they do. She says she’s determined they’ll have a “natural” life. They take people in by that saintly look of theirs, but I’ve heard what her neighbors have to say of them. The minister’s wife called one afternoon … well, Mrs. Raymond was sweet as sugar pie to her, but when she was leaving a shower of Spanish onions came flying down the stairs and one of them knocked her hat off. “Children always behave so abominably when you ‘specially want them to be good,” was all Mrs. Raymond said … kinder as if she was rather proud of them being so unmanageable. They’re from the States, you know’ … as if that explained everything. Rebecca has about as much use for ‘Yankees’ as Mrs. Lynde has.”
Chapter II
Saturday forenoon Anne betook herself to the pretty, old-fashioned cottage on a street that straggled out into the country, where Mrs. Raymond and her famous twins lived. Mrs. Raymond was all ready to depart … rather gayly dressed for a funeral, perhaps … especially with regard to the beflowered hat perched on top of the smooth brown waves of hair that flowed around her head … but looking very beautiful. The eight-year-old twins, who had inherited her beauty, were sitting on the stairs, their delicate faces wreathed with a quite cherubic expression. They had complexions of pink and white, large China-blue eyes and aureoles of fine, fluffy, pale yellow hair.
They smiled with engaging sweetness when their mother introduced them to Anne and told them that dear Miss Shirley had been so kind as to come and take care of them while Mother was away at dear Aunty Ella’s funeral, and of course they would be good and not give her one teeny-weeny bit of trouble, wouldn’t they, darlings?
The darlings nodded gravely and contrived, though it hadn’t seemed possible, to look more angelic than ever.
Mrs. Raymond took Anne down the walk to the gate with her.
“They’re all I’ve got … now,” she said pathetically. “Perhaps I may have spoiled them a little … I know people say I have … people always know so much better how you ought to bring up your children than you know yourself, haven’t you noticed, Miss Shirley? But I think loving is better than spanking any day, don’t you, Miss Shirley? I’m sure you will have no trouble with them. Children always know whom they can play on and whom they can’t, don’t you think? That poor old Miss Prouty up the street … I had her to stay with them one day, but the poor darlings couldn’t bear her. So of course they teased her a good bit … you know what children are. She has revenged herself by telling the most ridiculous tales about them all over town. But they’ll just love you and I know they’ll be angels. Of course, they have high spirits … but children should have, don’t you think? It’s so pitiful to see children with a cowed appearance, isn’t it? I like them to be natural, don’t you? Too good children don’t seem natural, do they? Don’t let them sail their boats in the bathtub or go wading in the pond, will you? I’m so afraid of them catching cold … their father died of pneumonia.”
Mrs. Raymond’s large blue eyes looked as if they were going to overflow, but she gallantly blinked the tears away.
“Don’t worry if they quarrel a little — children always do quarrel, don’t you think? But if any outsider attacks them … my dear!! They really just worship each other, you know. I could have taken one of them to the funeral, but they simply wouldn’t hear of it. They’ve never been separated a day in their lives. And I couldn’t look after twins at a funeral, could I now?”
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Raymond,” said Anne kindly. “I’m sure Gerald and Geraldine and I will have a beautiful day together. I love children.”
“I know it. I felt sure the minute I saw you that you loved children. One can always tell, don’t you think? There’s something about a person who loves children. Poor old Miss Prouty detests them. She looks for the worst in children and so of course she finds it. You can’t conceive what a comfort it is to me to reflect that my darlings are under the care of one who loves and understands children. I’m sure I’ll quite enjoy the day.”
“You might take us to the funeral,” shrieked Gerald, suddenly sticking his head out of an upstairs window. “We never have any fun like that.”
“Oh, they’re in the bathroom!” exclaimed Mrs. Raymond tragically. “Dear Miss Shirley, please go and take them out. Gerald darling, you know mother couldn’t take you both to the funeral. Oh, Miss Shirley, he’s got that coyote skin from the parlor floor tied round his neck by the paws again. He’ll ruin it. Please make him take it off at once. I must hurry or I’ll miss the train.”
Mrs. Raymond sailed elegantly away and Anne ran upstairs to find that the angelic Geraldine had grasped her brother by the legs and was apparently trying to hurl him bodily out of the window.
“Miss Shirley, make Gerald stop putting out his tongue at me,” she demanded fiercely.
“Does it hurt you?” asked Anne smilingly.
“Well, he’s not going to put out his tongue at me,” retorted Geraldine, darting a baleful look at Gerald, who returned it with interest.
“My tongue’s my own and you can’t stop me from putting it out when I like … can she, Miss Shirley?”
Anne ignored the question.
“Twins dear, it’s just an hour till lunch-time. Shall we go and sit in the garden and play games and tell stories? And, Gerald, won’t you put that coyote skin back on the floor?”
“But I want to play wolf,” said Gerald.
“He wants to play wolf,” cried Geraldine, suddenly aligning herself on her brother’s side.
“We want to play wolf,” they both cried together.
A peal from the doorbell cut the knot of Anne’s dilemma.
“Come on and see who it is,” cried Geraldine. They flew to the stairs and by reason of sliding down the banisters, got to the front door much quicker than Anne, the coyote skin coming unloosed and drifting away in the process.
“We never buy anything from peddlers,” Gerald told the lady standing on the doorstone.
