Free Pat of Silver Bush by Lucy Maud Montgomery Page A

that honked past them. Generally she and Sid walked to church by a short cut across the fields and along a brook scarfed with farewell summers. But the road was lovely, too, with the sunny, golden stubble fields, the glossy black crows sitting on the fences, the loaded apple boughs dragging on the grass of the orchards, the pastures spangled with asters, and the sea far out looking so blue and happy, with great fleets of cloudland sailing over it.
    Then there was the crowded church among its maples and spruces—the arrangement of the procession—the people standing up—Aunt Hazel trailing down the aisle on father’s arm—Jean Madison and Sally Gardiner behind her—Pat bringing up the rear gallantly with her basket of roses in her brown paws—the sudden hush—the minister’s solemn voice—the prayer—the lovely colours that fell on the people through the stained glass windows, turning them from prosaic folks into miracles. At first Pat was too bewildered to analyse her small sensations. She saw a little quivering ruby of light fall on Aunt Hazel’s white veil … she saw Rob Madison’s flying jibs … she saw Sally Gardiner’s night-black hair under her green hat … she saw the ferns and flowers … and suddenly she heard Aunt Hazel saying, “I will,” and saw her looking up at her groom.
    A dreadful thing happened to Pat. She turned frantically to Judy Plum who was sitting just behind her at the end of the front pew.
    “Judy, lend me your hanky. I’m going to cry,” she whispered in a panic.
    Judy fairly came out in gooseflesh. She realised that a desperate situation must be handled desperately. Her hanky was a huge white one which would engulf Pat. Moreover the Binnies were at the back of the church. She bent forward.
    “If there do be one tear out av ye to disgrace Silver Bush I’ll niver fry ye an egg in butter agin as long as I live.”
    Pat took a brace. Perhaps it was the thought of Silver Bush or the fried egg or both combined. She gave a desperate gulp and swallowed the lump in her throat. Savage winking prevented the fall of a single tear. The ceremony was over … nobody had noticed the little by-play … and everybody thought Pat had behaved beautifully. The Silver Bush people were much relieved. They had all been more or less afraid that Pat would break down at the last, just as Cora Gardiner had done at her sister’s wedding, erupting into hysterical howls right in the middle of the prayer and having to be walked out by a humiliated mother.
    “Ye carried yerself off well, darlint,” whispered Judy proudly.
    Pat contrived to get through the reception and the supper but she found she couldn’t eat, not even a chicken slice or the lovely “lily salad” mother had made. She was very near crying again when somebody said to Aunt Hazel,
    “What is it like to be Hazel Madison? Do you realise that you ARE Hazel Madison now?”
    Hazel Gardiner no longer! Oh, it was just too much!

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    Aftermath

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    And then the going away! For the first time in her life Pat found out what it was like to say good-bye to some one who was not coming back. But she could cry then because everybody cried, even Judy, who seldom cried.
    “When I feels like crying,” Judy was accustomed to say, “I just do be sitting down and having a good laugh.”
    She would not let Pat stand too long, looking after Aunt Hazel, tranced in her childish tears.
    “It’s unlucky to watch a parting friend out av sight,” she told her.
    Pat turned away and wandered dismally through the empty rooms. With everything so upset and disarranged upstairs and down Silver Bush wasn’t like home at all. Even the new lace curtains seemed part of the strangeness. The table, that had been so pretty, looked terrible … untidy … crumby … messy … with Aunt Hazel’s chair pushed rakily aside just as she had risen from it. Pat’s brown eyes were drowned again.
    “Come along wid me, darlint, and help me out a bit,” Judy … wise Judy … was