Short Stories

Short Stories Lucy Maud MontgomeryThe land dropped abruptly down from the gate and a thick shrubby growth of young apple orchard almost hid the little weather-grey house from the road. This was why the young man who opened the sagging gate could not see that it was boarded up and did not cease his cheerful whistling until he had pressed through the crowding trees and found himself almost on the sunken stone doorstep over which in olden days honeysuckle had been wont to arch. Now only a few straggling uncared-for vines clung forlornly to the shingles and the windows were as has been said all boarded up. The whistle died on the young mans lips and an expression of blank astonishment and dismay settled down on his face-a good kindly honest face it was although perhaps it did not betoken any pronounced mental gifts on the part of its owner. What can have happened? he said to himself. Uncle Tom and Aunt Sally cant be dead-Id have seen their deaths in the paper if they was. And Id athought if theyd moved away itd been printed too. They cant have been gone long-that flower-bed must have been made up last spring. Well this is a kind of setback for a fellow. Here Ive been tramping all the way from the station athinking how good it would be to see Aunt Sallys sweet old face again and hear Uncle Toms laugh and all I find is a boarded-up house going to seed.Spose I might as well toddle over to Stetsons and inquire if they havent disappeared too. He went through the old firs back of the lot and across the field to a rather shabby house beyond. A cheery-faced woman answered his knock and looked at him in a puzzled fashion. Have you forgot me Mrs. Stetson? Dont you remember Lovell Stevens and how you used to give him plum tarts when hed bring your turkeys home? Mrs. Stetson caught both his hands in a hearty clasp. I guess I havent forgotten! she declared. Well well and youre Lovell! I think I ought to know your face though youve changed a lot. Fifteen years have made a big difference in you. Come right in. Pa this is Lovell-you mind Lovell the boy Aunt Sally and Uncle Tom had for years? Reckon I do drawled Jonah Stetson with a friendly grin. Aint likely to forget some of the capers you used to be cutting up. Youve filled out considerable. Where have you been for the last ten years? Aunt Sally fretted a lot over you thinking you was dead or gone to the bad. Lovells face clouded. I know I ought to have written he said repentantly but you know Im a terrible poor scholar and Id do most anything than try to write a letter. But wheres Uncle Tom and Aunt Sally gone? Surely they aint dead? No said Jonah Stetson slowly no-but I guess theyd rather be. Theyre in the poorhouse. The poorhouse! Aunt Sally in the poorhouse! exclaimed Lovell. Yes and its a burning shame declared Mrs. Stetson. Aunt Sallys just breaking her heart from the disgrace of it. But it didnt seem as if it could be helped. Uncle Tom got so crippled with rheumatism he couldnt work and Aunt Sally was too frail to do anything. They hadnt any relations and there was a mortgage on the house. There wasnt any when I went away. No they had to borrow money six years ago when Uncle Tom had his first spell of rheumatic fever. This spring it was clear that there was nothing for them but the poorhouse.