Pat of Silver Bush (21 page)

“It’s a lovely party, isn’t it?” she said. “Your dress is real pretty. Only … do you think yellow goes well with such a brown skin?”

Something happened to Pat, as she looked at herself and Kathie in the mirror … something that had never happened before. It was not jealousy … it was a sudden, dreadful despair. SHE WAS UGLY! Standing beside this fairy girl she was ugly. Pale hair … a brown face … a mouth like a straight line and a much too long straight line … Pat shuddered.

“What’s the matter?” asked Kathie.

“Nothing. I just hit my funny bone,” said Pat valiantly. But everything had burst like a bubble. There was no more fun for her that evening. She even hated Mark Madison. He must have asked her to sit with him only out of pity … or because Aunt Hazel had ordered him to do it. She could not eat Aunt Hazel’s wonderful supper and her recitation fell flat because as Uncle Robert said, she did not put any pep in it. Pep! Pat felt that she would never have pep again. She only wished she could get away home and cry. She did cry, quietly, as they drove home through the sparkling night of windless frost, over shadow-barred moonlit roads, between black velvet trees. All the beauty of the night was wasted on Pat who could see nothing but herself and Kathie side by side in the glass.

When she got home she slipped into the Poet’s room to have another look at herself. Yes, there was no doubt about it. She was ugly. One did not mind not being very pretty. When Uncle Brian the last time he had been down, had said to her on leaving, “Try to be better looking when I come back,” Pat had laughed with the others … all except Judy, who had sent a very black look after Brian.

But to be ugly. The tears welled up in Pat’s eyes. She had never thought she was ugly until she had seen herself beside Kathie. Now she KNEW. What a way for a lovely party to end! Talk about green being unlucky! Nothing worse than this could have happened to her in green. It was she who was unlucky. Nobody would ever love her … Bets couldn’t really care for an ugly friend … Jingle must just have been making fun of her when he told her she had a cute nose and lovely eyes. Eyes … just between yellow and brown … they had looked just like a cat’s beside Kathie’s enormous blue orbs. And her lashes!

“Even if mine were long I couldn’t flicker them like she does,” thought Pat disconsolately, forgetting that Kathie had “flickered” them in vain at Mark Madison.

Pat’s bed was by the window where she could see the sunrise … if she woke early enough. She woke early enough the next morning but the wild red sunrise through the trees and its light falling over the white snow-fields did not thrill her. She had very little to say at breakfast. She told Judy dully that the party had been “very nice.” She went to school, blind to the aerial colouring of the opal winter day and the dance of loose snow over the meadows. She kept aloof from all the girls who had also been at the party. They were raving over Kathleen’s looks. Pat simply couldn’t bear it.

She had never been jealous of a girl’s looks before. Bets was pretty and Pat was proud of her. To be sure she had always hated Norma but that was because Norma was said to be prettier than Winnie. She wondered if Jingle thought her VERY ugly. She remembered the coloured chromo of the pretty little girl in the Gordon parlour which she knew Jingle adored. She did not know he adored it because he had heard some one say it looked like his mother. As Pat remembered it it looked like Kathie. Pat writhed.

Did everybody think her ugly? The old man who called around once a week selling fish always addressed her as “Pretty.” But then he called everybody pretty. She had never thought she was pretty … she had never thought much about her looks at all. And now she could think of nothing else. She was ugly … nobody would ever like her … Sid and Joe would be ashamed of their ugly sister… .

“Patricia, have you finished your composition?”

Patricia hadn’t. How could you write compositions when the heart of you was broken?

There was company for supper at Silver Bush that night and Judy was too busy to pay any attention to Pat, although she watched her out of the tail of her eye. Pat had to wash the supper dishes. Ordinarily she made a saga of doing it. She liked to wash pretty dishes. Pat loved everything about the house but she loved the dishes particularly. It was such fun to make them clean and shining in the hot soapy water. She always washed her favourites first. The dishes she didn’t like had just to wait until she was good and ready for them and it was fun to picture their dumb, glowering wrath as they waited AND waited and saw the others preferred before them. That hideous old brown plate with the chipped edges … how furious it got! “It’s MY turn now … I’m an old family plate … I won’t be treated like this … I’ve been at Silver Bush for fifty years … that stuck-up thing with the forget-me-nots on the rim has only been here for a year.” But it always had to wait until the very last in spite of its howls. Tonight Pat washed it first. Poor thing, it couldn’t help being ugly.

She was glad of bedtime and crept off in mingled moonlight and twilight, while the purple shadows gathered along the lee of the snowdrifts behind the well and the west wind in the silver bush was twisting the birches mercilessly.

And then Judy, who had been out milking, invaded the room with a resolute air.

“What do be ailing ye, Pat? Sure and if ye’re faling the way ye’ve been looking all day there’s something sarious the matter. Wandering around widout a word to throw to a dog and peering into the looking-glass be times as if ye was after seeing if the wrinkles was coming. Make a clane breast av it, darlint.”

Pat sat up.

“Oh, Judy, it’s such a terrible thing to be ugly, isn’t it, Judy? AM I so very ugly, Judy?”

“So THAT’S it? Oh, oh, and who’s been telling ye ye was ugly if a body may ask?”

“Nobody. But at the party Kathie Madison stood beside me in front of the glass … and I saw it for myself.”

“Oh, oh, there’s not minny girls but wud look a bit plainer than common beside me fine Kathleen. I’m not denying she’s handsome. And so was her mother afore her. But she wasn’t after getting any more husbands than her homely sister for all av that … only one and that one no great shakes I’m telling ye. Wid all her looks she tuk her pigs to a poor market. It isn’t the beauties that make the good marriages as a rule, Patsy darlint. There was Cora Davidson now at the Bay Shore. She was that good-looking the min were said to be crazy over her. But it’s the fact, Patsy darlint, and her own mother it was that tould me, there niver was but one axed her to marry him. He axed her on Widnesday and on Thursday they took him to a lunatic asylum. Oh, I’m telling ye. And have ye iver heard what happened at her sister Annie’s widding supper? They had the cake made in Charlottetown a wake before be way of being more stylish than their neighbours and whin the bride made a jab at it to cut it didn’t a bunch av mice rin out and scamper all over the table? Oh, oh, the scraming and jumping! More like a wake than a widding! The Davidsons niver hilt up their heads agin for minny a long day I’m telling you.”

It was no use. Pat was not to be side-tracked by any of Judy’s tales tonight.

“Oh, Judy, I hate to think I’m so ugly my family will be ashamed of me … people will call me ‘that plain Gardiner girl.’ Last week at the pie social at Silverbridge nobody would buy Minnie Fraser’s pie because she was so ugly …”

Pat’s voice broke on a sob. Judy perceived that skilful handling was required. She sat down on Pat’s bed and looked very lovingly at her. The dear liddle thing wid her wide, frindly smile, as if she did be imbracing all the world, and the golden-brown swateness of her eyes! Thinking she was ugly! Setting off in such high cockalorum for her first liddle party and coming home wid her bit av a heart half bruk in two!

“I’m not saying ye’re handsome, Patsy, but I AM saying it’s distinguished looking ye are. Ye haven’t come into yer looks yet. Wait ye a few years till ye’ve outgrown yer arms and legs. Wid yer eyes and a bit av luck ye’ll get a finer husband than minny av thim.”

“Oh, Judy, it’s not husbands I’m thinking of,” sobbed Pat impatiently. “And I don’t want to be terribly handsome. Bets and I read a story last week about a girl who was so beautiful crowds rushed out to see her and a king died for love of her. I wouldn’t want that. I just want to be pretty enough so that people wouldn’t mind looking at me.”

“And who’s been minding looking at ye, I’d like to know,” said Judy fiercely. “If that stuck-up puss av a Kathie Madison said innything to hurt yer liddle falings …”

“It wasn’t what she said, Judy, so much as the way she said it. ‘Such a brown skin’ … as if I was an Indian. Oh, Judy, I can’t outgrow my skin, can I?”

“There’s thim that thinks a brown skin handsomer than all yer Miss Pink-and-whites. She’ll freckle in summer, that one.”

“And I’m not even clever, Judy. I can only love people … and things.”

“Oh, oh, ‘tis a great gift that … and it’s not ivery one that has it, me jewel. Now, we’ll just be seeing where ye are for looks, rale calm and judicial like. Ye’ve got the fine eyes, as Jingle told ye …”

“And a cute nose, he said, Judy. HAVE I?”

“Ye have that … and the dainty liddle eyebrows … oh, oh, but ye’ve got no ind av good p’ints … and the nice ears like liddle pink shells. I warrant ye that Kathie one hasn’t much to brag av in ears … not if she’s a Madison.”

“Her hair hid them mostly but I got a glimpse of one … It DID stick out,” confessed Pat.

“I’m telling ye! Yer mouth may be a bit wide but ye’re not seeing the way it curls up at the corners whin ye laugh, darlint. Oh, oh, ye’ve got a way av laughing, Patsy. And the ‘ristocratic ankles av ye! I’ll be bound that Kathie one has a bit too much beef on hers.”

“Yes, Kathie HAS fat ankles,” Pat recalled to her comforting. “But she has such lovely hair. Look at mine … straight as a string and just the colour of ginger.”

“Yer hair will be getting darker all the time, me jewel. Sure and the wonder is ye girls have inny skin or hair at all, running round in sun and wind bare-headed as ye do. Yer mother and her leddy sisters all wore sunbonnets I’m telling ye.”

“Oh, Judy, that would be horrid. I LOVE the sun and wind.”

“Oh, oh, thin don’t be howling bekase yer skin is brown and yer hair all faded. Ye can’t ate yer cake and have it, too. I’m guessing it’s healthier.”

“Winnie has such lovely curls. I don’t see why I haven’t any.”

“Winnie do be Selby and ye do be Gardiner. Yer mother now … oh, oh, but she had the rale permanent, so she had, that yer Aunt Jessie cudn’t have if she had her head boiled and baked for a year. But ye’ve got a flavour av yer own and a tongue as swate as violets whin ye begin blarneying … and whin ye smile yer eyes twinkle like yer Grandmother Gardiner’s … and she was the prettiest ould leddy I iver laid me eyes on. And ye’ve got a way av looking at a body and dropping yer eyes and thin looking agin that’s going to play havoc some day. I’ve seen me lad Jingle’s face whin ye looked at him so.”

“Judy … have I really?”

“Oh, oh, maybe I shudn’t be telling ye av it … not but what ye’d find it out sooner or later. I’m telling ye, Patsy darlint, a look like that is worth all the blue eyes and liddle red mouths in the world. Yer mother had it. Oh, oh, SHE knew all the tricks in her day.”

“Father says mother was a great belle when she was a girl, Judy.”

“Well may he say it for the hard time he had to get her! Ivery one thought she wud take Fred Taylor. Oh, oh, but he had the silver tongue. He cud wheedle the legs off an iron pot. But whin it came to the last ditch sure and she laped it wid yer dad. Minny was the sore heart at her widding.”

“But she was pretty, Judy.”

“Her own sister … yer Aunt Doris … wasn’t pretty I’m telling ye, and she had more beaus than yer mother aven. Sure and I think it was bekase she always looked so slapy the min wanted to wake her up. She was the lazy one av the Bay Shore girls but ivery one liked her nixt to yer mother. Yer Aunt Evelyn had the prettiest arms and shoulders av the lot … as ye’ll have yersilf some day, darlint, whin ye get a liddle more mate on yer bones. Yer Aunt Flora now … SHE was the flirt. She tried to flirt wid ivery one in sight. Now there’s niver no sinse in that, Patsy dear. A few like to kape yer hand in … but not ivery one. Remimber that whin yer time comes.”

“Kathie told me that Jim Madison climbed to the top of the biggest tree at Silverbridge to see if he could pick a star for her.”

“Oh, oh, but did he get the star, darlint? There’s inny number av ways av showing off. Now just ye be going to slape wid a good heart. Ye’ve got a liddle better opinion of yersilf I be thinking?”

“A whole lot better, Judy. I guess I’ve been pretty silly. But I did look so brown …”

“Sure and I’ll tell ye an ould beauty secret, Patsy dear. Whin the spring comes just ye run out ivery morning and wash yer face in morning dew. I’m not saying it’ll make ye pink and white like Kathleen but it’ll make yer skin like satin.”

“Really, Judy?”

“Sure and isn’t it in me book av Useful Knowledge? I’ll be showing it to ye tomorrow.”

“Why haven’t YOU done that, Judy?”

“Oh, oh, nothing cud make inny diffrunce to me old elephant’s hide. Ye’ve got to begin it young. Georgie Shortreed made a rigular beauty av hersilf that way, so she did, and made a good match in a fam’ly that was as full av ould maids as a pudding av plums. Was I iver telling ye how her sister Kitty lost her one chanct? Sure and didn’t she throw a pan av dish-water over her beau one night, accidental like, whin he was standing on the kitchen dure-step, trying to get up enough spunk to knock … him being a bould young lad av fifty wid a taste for ugly girls and not used to sparking. Away he wint and niver come back, small wonder, for wasn’t his bist suit ruint entirely wid grase? The Shortreeds all had that lazy trick av opening the dure and letting the dish-water fly right and lift widout looking. Was I iver telling ye how their ould dad, Dick Shortreed, quarrelled wid his marching neighbour, Ab Bollinger, over a hin?”

“No.” Pat snuggled down on her pillow, happy again and ready to taste Judy’s yarns.

“They fought over the hin for three years and wint to law about it … to the magistrate innyway … and ‘twas the joke av the country side. And after they had spint more money than wud buy a hundred hins this same Ab Bollinger’s daughter up and married ould Dick Shortreed’s son and the ould folks made up their quarrel and killed the hin for the widding supper. ‘Twas a tough bite I’m thinking be that time.”