Free Pat of Silver Bush by L. M. Montgomery Page A

shudn’t a poor cat have it, I’m asking. Hasn’t he got to live? I niver said they come ivery night. They’ve other pickings no doubt.”
    â€œJudy, did you ever really see a fairy drinking the milk? Cross your heart?”
    â€œOh, oh, what if I didn’t? Sure the grandmother of me did. Minny’s the time I’ve heard her tell it. A leprechaun wid the liddle ears av him wriggling as he lapped it up. And she had her leg bruk nixt day, that she had. Ye may be thankful if ye niver see any av the Grane Folk. They don’t be liking it and that I’m tellin ye.”
    â€¢ • •
    It was a day curiously compounded of pain and pleasure for Pat. Silver Bush buzzed with excitement, especially when Snicklefritz got stung on the eyelid by a wasp and had to be shut up in the church barn. And then everybody was getting dressed. Oh, weddings were exciting things…Sid was right. Mother wore the loveliest new dress, the color of a golden-brown chrysanthemum, and Pat was so proud of her it hurt.
    â€œIt’s so nice to have a pretty mother,” she exclaimed rapturously.
    She was proud of all her family. Of father, who had had a terrible time finding his necktie and who, in his excitement, had put his left boot on his right foot and laced it up before he discovered his mistake, but now looked every inch a Gardiner. Of darling wee Cuddles with her silk stockings rolled down to show her dear, bare, chubby legs. Of Winnie, who in her yellow dress looked like a great golden pansy. Of Sid and Joe in new suits and white collars. Even of Judy Plum who had blossomed out in truly regal state. The dress-up dress had come out of the brown chest, likewise a rather rusty lace shawl and a bonnet of quilted blue satin of the vintage of last century. Judy would have scorned to be seen in public without a bonnet. No giddy hats for her. Also what she called a “paireen” of glossy, patent leather slippers with high heels. Thus fearsomely arrayed Judy minced about, keeping a watchful eye on everything and greeting arriving friends in what she called her “company voice” and the most perfect English pronunciation you ever heard.
    Aunt Hazel and her bridesmaids were as yet invisible in the Poet’s room. Mother dressed Pat in her pretty green dress and hat. Pat loved it…but she ran upstairs to her closet to tell her old blue voile that she still loved it the best. Then the aunts came over, Aunt Barbara very weddingish in a dress and coat of beige lace which Aunt Edith thought far too young for her. Nobody could call Aunt Edith’s dress young but it was very handsome and Pat nearly burst with pride in her whole clan.
    Uncle Brian from Summerside was going to take the bride and her maids to the church in his new car and it was a wonderful moment when they came floating down the stairs. Pat’s eyes smarted a wee bit. Was this mysterious creature in white satin and misty veil, with the great shower bouquet of roses and lilies of the valley, her dear, jolly Aunt Hazel? Pat felt as if she were already lost to them. But Aunt Hazel lingered to whisper,
    â€œI’ve slipped the pansies you picked for me into my bouquet, darling…they’re the ‘something blue’ the bride must wear, and thanks ever so much.”
    And all was well again for a while.
    Father took mother and Winnie and Judy and Joe in the Silver Bush Lizzie but Pat and Sid went in Uncle Tom’s “span.” No Lizzie or any other such lady for Uncle Tom. He drove a great roomy, double-seated “phaeton” drawn by two satin bay horses with white stars on their foreheads and Pat liked it far better than any car. But why was Uncle Tom so slow in coming? “We’ll be late. There’s a million buggies and cars gone past already,” worried Pat.
    â€œOh, oh, don’t be exaggerating, girleen.”
    â€œWell, there was five anyway,” cried Pat indignantly.
    â€œThere