Jane of Lantern Hill (1937)

Chapter 34

"Let's go uptown and buy our house some presents. Jane."

"A double boiler that won't leak, dad. Booties always did, a little. And a potato-ricer ... can we get a potato-ricer, dad?"

Dad thought the budget would stretch to a potato-ricer. 

It was delightful, all of it. But Jane sparkled when they had left town behind them, going home to all the things they loved.  

"Drive slow, dad. I don't want to miss anything on the road."  

She was feasting her eyes on everything ... spruce-clad hills, bits of gardens full of unsung beauty tucked away here and there, glimpses of sparkling sea, blue rivers ... had those rivers really been so blue last summer? It had been an early spring and all the blossom show was over. Jane was sorry for that. She wondered if she would ever be able to get to the Island in time to see the Titus ladies' famous cherry walk in its spring-blow.  

They called for a moment to see Mrs Meade, who kissed Jane and was sorry Mr Meade couldn't come out to see her, because he was in bed with an abyss in his ear. She gave them a packet of ham sandwiches and cheese to stay their stomachs if they were hungry on the road.  

They heard the ocean before they saw it. Jane loved the sound. It was as if the spirit of the sea called to her. And then the first snuff of salt in the air ... there was one particular hill where they always got the first tang. And from that same hill they caught their first far-away glimpse of Lantern Hill. It was wonderful to be able to see your own home so far off ... to feel that every step the horse took was bringing you nearer to it.  

From there on Jane was on her own stamping ground. It was so exciting to recognize all the spots along the road ... green wood lanes, old beloved farms that held out their arms to her. The single row of spruces was still marching up Little Donald's hill. The dunes ... and the fishing boats sailing in ... and the little blue pond laughing at her ... and Lantern Hill. Home after exile!  

Somebody ... Jane discovered later that it was the Snowbeams ... had made "Welcome" with white stones in the walk. Happy was waiting for them in the yard and nearly ate Jane alive. Bubbles, the new fat white dog, sat apart and looked at her, but he was so cute that Jane forgave him on the spot for being Bubbles.  

The first thing was to visit every room and every room welcomed her back. Nothing was changed. She looked the house over to make sure nothing was missing. The little bronze soldier was still riding on his bronze horse and the green cat kept watch and ward over dad's desk. But the silver needed polishing and the geraniums needed pruning and when had the kitchen floor been scrubbed?

She had been away from Lantern Hill for nine months, but now it seemed to her that she had never been away at all. She had really been living here all along. It was her spirit's home.  

There was a bunch of little surprises ... nice surprises. They had six hens ... there was a small henhouse built below the garden ... there was a peaked porch roof built over the glass-paned door ... and dad had got the telephone in.  

First Peter was sitting on the doorstone when Jane came downstairs, with a big mouse in his mouth, very proud of his prowess as a hunter. Jane pounced on him, mouse and all, and then looked around for Second Peter. Where was Second Peter?

Dad put his arm closely around Jane.

"Second Peter died last week, Jane. I don't know what happened to him ... he got sick. I had the vet for him but he could do nothing."  

Jane felt a stinging in her eyes. She would not cry but she choked.

"I . . . I . . . didn't think anything I loved could die," she whispered into dad's shoulder.  

"Ah, Jane, love can't fence out death. He had a happy life if a short one ... and we buried him in the garden. Come out and see the garden, Jane ... it burst into bloom as  soon as it heard you were coming."

A wind ran through the garden as they entered it and it looked as if every flower and shrub were nodding a head or waving a hand at them. Dad had a corner where vegetables were all up in neat little rows and there were new beds of annuals.

"Miranda got what you wanted from the seedsman ... I think you'll find everything, even the scabious. What do you want with scabious, Jane? It's an abominable name ... sounds like a disease."  

"Oh, the flowers are pretty, dad. And there are so many nicer names for them... . Lady's pincushion and Mourning Bride. Aren't the pansies lovely? I'm so glad I sowed them last August."

"You look like a pansy yourself, Jane ... that red-brown one there with the golden eyes."  

Jane remembered she had wondered if any one would ever compare her to a flower. In spite of the little pile of shore stones under the lilac ... which Young John had piled over the grave of Second Peter ... she was happy. Everything was so lovely. Even Mrs Big Donald's washing, streaming gallantly out against the blue sky on her hill-top, was charming. And away down by the Watch Tower the surf was breaking on the sand. Jane wanted to be out in that turmoil and smother of the waves. But that must wait till morning. Just now there was supper to be gotten.

"How jolly to be in a kitchen again," thought Jane, girding on an apron.  

"I'm glad my cook is back," said dad. "I've practically lived on salt codfish all winter. It was the easiest thing to cook. But I don't deny the neighbours helped the commissariat out. And they've sent in no end of things for our supper."

Jane had found the pantry full of them. A cold chicken from the Jimmy Johns, a pat of butter from Mrs Big Donald, a jug of cream from Mrs Little Donald, some cheese from Mrs Snowbeam, some rose-red early radishes from Min's ma, a pie from Mrs Bell.

"She said she kew you could make as good pies as she can but she thought it would fill in till you'd have time to make some. There's a good bit of jam left yet and practically all the pickles."

Jane and dad talked as they ate supper. They had a whole winter of talk to catch up with. Had he missed her? Well, had he now? What did she think? They regarded each other with great content. Jane saw the new moon, over her right shoulder, through the open door. And dad got up and started the ship's clock. Time had begun once more.  

Jane's friends, having considerately let her have her first rapture over, came to see her in the evening ... the brown, rosy Jimmy Johns and the Snowbeams and Min and Ding-dong. They were all glad to see her. Queen's Shore had kept her in its heart. It was wonderful to be somebody again ... wonderful to be able to laugh all you wanted to without any one resenting it ... wonderful to be among happy people again. All at once Jane realized that nobody was happy at 60 Gay ... except, perhaps, Mary and Frank. Grandmother wasn't ... Aunt Gertrude wasn't ... mother wasn't.  

Step-a-yard whispered to her that he had brought over a wheelbarrow-load of sheep manure for her garden. "You'll find it by the gate ... nothing like well-rotted sheep manure for a garden." Ding-dong had brought her a kitten to replace Second Peter ... a scrap about as big as its mother's paw but which was destined to be a magnificent cat in black with four white paws. Jane and dad tried out all kinds of names on it before they went to bed and finally agreed on Silver Penny because of the round white spot between its ears. 

To go to her own dear room where a young birch was fairly poking an arm in through the window from the steep hill-side ... to hear the sound of the sea in the night ... to waken in the morning and think she would be with dad all day! Jane sang the song of the morning stars as she dressed and got breakfast.  

The first thing Jane did after breakfast was to run with the wind to the shore and take a wild exultant dip in the stormy waves. She fairly flung herself into the arms of the sea.  

And what a forenoon it was, polishing silver and window-panes. Nothing had changed really, though there were surface changes. Step-a-yard had grown a beard because of throat trouble ... Big Donald had repainted his house ... the calves of last summer had grown up ... Little Donald was letting his hill pasture go spruce. It was good to be home.  

"Timothy Salt is going to take me codfishing next Saturday, dad."