going to school was a commonplace and Pat had even begun to like it. And then one afternoon Judy casually remarked, out of a clear sky so to speak,
“I s’pose ye know that yer Aunt Hazel is going to be married the last wake in September?”
At first Pat wouldn’t believe it … simply couldn’t. Aunt Hazel couldn’t be married and go away from Silver Bush. When she had to believe it she cried night after night for a week. Not even Judy could console her … not even the memory of Weeping Willy shame her.
“Sure and it’s time yer Aunt Hazel was married if she don’t be intinding to be an ould maid.”
“Aunt Barbara and Aunt Edith are old maids and they’re happy,” sobbed Pat.
“Oh, oh, two ould maids is enough for one family. And yer Aunt Hazel is right to be married. Sure and it’s a kind av hard world for women at the bist. I’m not saying but what we’ll miss her. She’s always had a liddle knack av making people happy. But it’s time she made her ch’ice. She’s niver been man-crazy … oh, oh, her worst inimy couldn’t say that av her. But she’s been a bit av a flirt in her day and there’s been a time or two I was afraid she was going to take up wid a crooked stick. ‘Judy,’ she wud a’way be saying to me, ‘I want to try just a few more beaus afore I settle down.’ It’s a bit av good luck that she’s made up her mind for Robert Madison. He’s a rale steady feller. Ye’ll like yer new uncle, darlint.”
“I won’t,” said Pat obstinately, determined to hate him forever. “Do you like him, Judy?”
“To be sure I do. He’s got more in his head than the comb’ll iver take out I warrrant ye. And a store-kaper he is, which is a bit asier than farming for the wife.”
“Do you think he’s goodlooking enough for Aunt Hazel, Judy?”
“Oh, oh, I’ve seen worse. Maybe there’s a bit too much av him turned up for fate and there’s no denying he has flying jibs like all that family. They tuk it from the Callenders. Niver did inny one see such ears as old Hinry Callender had. If ye hadn’t been seeing innything but his head ye cudn’t have told whether he was a man or a bat. Oh, oh, but it’s the lucky thing they’ve got pared down a bit be the Madison mixture! Robert’s got a rale nice face and I’m after telling ye we’re all well satisfied wid yer Aunt Hazel’s match. We’ve had our worries I can be telling ye now. There was Gordon Rhodes back a bit … but I niver belaved she’d take a scut like him. Too crooked to lie straight in bed like all the Rhodeses. And Will Owen … to be sure Long Alec liked him but the man had no more to say for himself than a bump on a log. If the Good Man Above had struck him dumb we’d niver av known it. For me own part I like thim a bit more flippant. At one time we did be thinking she’d take Siddy Taylor. But whin she tould him one night that she cudn’t abide his taste in neckties he went off mad and niver come back. Small blame to him for that. If ye do be wanting a man iver, Pat, don’t be after criticising his neckties until ye’ve landed him afore the minister. And yer mother kind av liked Cal Gibson. Sure and he was the ladylike cratur. But he was one av the Summerside Gibsons and I was afraid he’d always look down on yer Aunt Hazel’s people. Barring the fact that he was as quare-looking as a cross-eyed cat … But this Robert Madison, he kept a-coming and a-coming, always bobbing up whiniver one of the other lads got the mitten on the wrong hand. Whin the Madisons do be wanting a thing they have the habit av getting it in the long run. Rob’s Uncle Jim now … didn’t I iver tell ye the story av how he pickled his brother in rum and brought him home to be buried?”
“Pickled him, Judy?”
“I’m telling ye. Ned Madison died on board Jim’s ship back in 1850 whin they were in the middle av the Indian Ocean. Iverybody said he must be buried at say. But Jim Madison swore till all turned blue that Ned shud be tuk home and buried in the fam’ly plot on the Island. So he got the ship’s carpenter to make a lead coffin and he clapped young Ned in it and filled it up wid rum. And Ned come home fresh as a daisy. I’m not saying that Jim was iver the same man agin though, mind ye. And that’s the Madison for ye. Oh, oh, it’s all for the bist as it is and we must have a rale fine widding for the honour av the fam’ly.”
Pat found it hard to be reconciled to it. She had always been so fond of Aunt Hazel … far fonder than of Aunt Edith or even Aunt Barbara. Aunt Hazel was so jolly and pretty. Her face was as brown as a nut, her eyes and hair were brown, her lips and cheeks scarlet. Aunt Hazel looked her name. Some people didn’t. Lily Wheatley was as black as a crow and Ruby Rhodes was pale and washed out.
The rest of the Silver Bush children took it more philosophically. Sidney thought it would be rather exciting to have a wedding in the family. Winnie thought it must be rather good fun to be married.
“I don’t see the fun of it,” said Pat bitterly.
“Why, everybody has to be married,” said Winnie. “You’ll be married yourself some day.”
Pat rushed to mother in anguish.
“Mother, tell me … I don’t have to get married ever … do I?”
“Not unless you want to,” assured mother.
“Oh, that’s all right,” said relieved Pat. “Because I’ll never want to.”
“The girls all talk that way,” said Judy, winking at Mrs. Gardiner over Pat’s head. “There’s no jidging the minute I might take the notion meself. Sure and didn’t I have the fine proposal the other night. Old Tom Drinkwine shuffled up here and asked me to be his fourth missus, so he did. Sure and I all but dropped the new tay-pot whin he come out wid it. It’s the long time I’ve waited to be axed but me chanct has come at last.”
“Oh, Judy, you wouldn’t marry him?”
“Oh, oh, and why shudn’t I now?”
“And leave us?”
“Oh, oh, there’s the rub,” remarked Judy, who had sent old Tom off to what she called “the tune the ould cow died on.”
“‘Twud be more than the quarter av inny man that’d tempt me to do that same.”
But a whole man might tempt Judy some day and Pat was uneasy. Oh, change was terrible! What a pity people had to get married!
3
“The widding’s to be the last wake av September, D. V.” Judy told her one day.
Pat winced. She knew it must be but to have announced in this indifferent fashion was anguish.
“What does D. V. mean, Judy?”
“Oh, oh, it means if the Good Man Above is willing.”
“And what if He isn’t willing, Judy?”
“Thin it wud niver happen, me jewel.”
Pat wondered if she prayed to God not to be willing if it would do any good.
“What would happen if you prayed for … for a wicked thing, Judy?”
“Oh, oh, you might get it,” said Judy so eerily that Pat was terrified and decided that it was wiser to take no risks.
Eventually she became resigned to it. She
