Free Magic for Marigold by L. M. Montgomery

flowerstalks. She wanted to whisper to them, “Spring will come.”
    The winter mornings were interesting because they had breakfast by candlelight. The winter evenings were dear when the wind howled outside, determined to get into Cloud of Spruce. It clawed at the doors—shrieked at the windows—gave Marigold delicious little thrills. But it never got in. It was so nice to sit in the warm bright room with the cats toasting their furry flanks before the fire and the pleasant purr of Salome’s spinning-wheel in the kitchen. And then to bed in the little room off Mother’s, with sweet, sleepy kisses, to snuggle down in soft, creamy blankets and hear the storm outside. Yes, the world was a lovely place to be alive in, even if the devil did occasionally carry off people who swore.

CHAPTER 4
    Marigold Goes A-Visiting
    1
    Marigold, for the first time in her small life, was going on what she called a “real” visit. That is, she was going to Uncle Paul’s to stay all night, without Mother or Young Grandmother. In this fact its “realness” consisted for Marigold. Visiting with Grandmother was int’resting and visiting with Mother int’resting and pleasant, but to go somewhere on your own like this made you feel old and adventurous.
    Besides, she had never been at Uncle Paul’s, and there were things there she wanted to see. There was a “water-garden,” which was a hobby of Uncle Paul’s and much talked of in the clan. Marigold hadn’t the least idea what a “water-garden” was. There was a case of stuffed hummingbirds. And, more int’resting than all else, there was a skeleton in the closet. She had heard Uncle Paul speak of it and hoped madly that she might get a glimpse of it.
    Uncle Paul was not an over-the-bear, so was not invested with such romance as they, who lived so near the Hidden Land, were. He lived only at the head of the Bay, but that was six miles away, so it was really “traveling” to go there. She liked Uncle Paul, though she was a little in awe of Aunt Flora; and she liked Frank.
    Frank was Uncle Paul’s young half-brother. He had curly black hair and “romantic” gray eyes. So Marigold had heard Aunt Nina say. She didn’t know what romantic meant, but she liked Frank’s eyes. He had a nice, slow smile and a nice, soft drawling voice. Marigold had heard he was going to marry Hilda Wright. Then that he wasn’t. Then that he had sold his farm and was going to some mysterious region called “the West.” Lazarre told Salome it was because Hilda had jilted him. Marigold didn’t know what jilted was, but whatever it was she hated Hilda for doing it to Frank. She had never liked Hilda much anyway, even if she were some distant kind of a cousin by reason of her great-Grandmother being a Blaisdell. She was a pale pretty girl with russet hair and a mouth that never pleased Marigold. A stubborn mouth and a bitter mouth. Yet very pleasant when she laughed. Marigold almost liked Hilda when she laughed.
    â€œDey’re too stubborn, dat pair,” Lazarre told Salome. “Hilda say Frank he mus’ spik first an’ Frank he say he be dam if he do.”
    Marigold was sorry Frank was going West, which, as far as she was concerned, was something “beyond the bourne of time and space,” but she looked forward to this visit with him. He would show her the humming-birds and the water-garden, and she believed she could coax him to let her have a peep at the skeleton. And he would take her on his knee and tell her funny stories; perhaps he might even take her for a drive in his new buggy behind his little black mare Jenny. Marigold thought this ever so much more fun than riding in a car.
    Of course she was sorry to leave Mother even for a night, and sorry to leave her new kitten. But to go for a real visit! Marigold spent a raptured week looking forward to it and living it in