Misty Hollow
Blair Water
September 19, 1931
Dear Woody,
You will be happy to hear that the experiment is going quite well. Young Marigold seemed likely to be miserable at first, but she soon settled in. Much of that, I must admit, is due to Mickey Lewis, our handyman. He's not much older than Marigold, you know, and they took to each other immediately. He's put her to work helping to winterize the place; she seems to enjoy helping him, judging by the laughter that echoes up out of the garden. In the evenings he plays his fiddle for her. Now, there is no need to fret, Woody dear, for there is no impropriety. Mickey is very respectful toward her, and Marigold looks to him almost as an older brother, I do believe. You may well imagine that Mother would not stand for anything inappropriate in this house!
I've undertaken to teach Marigold to sew. My word, but she's a dunce with the needle! I can hardly keep a straight face at her mistakes at times, but I manage, as I don't want to discourage her. She did finally manage to make a skirt to wear while helping Mickey, and was so proud of it that she actually seemed eager to start another project.
Mother decided that another good idea would be to put Marigold in charge of preparing all the meals one day a week. You told us what a good cook she was, and Mother thought the responsibility would be good for her. She thrives on it! She'll spend hours poring over old cookbooks and rifling through my recipe boxes. Some of the meals have been a bit queer, but overall she's done quite nicely. I know Mother wants to teach her how to manage a household as well, but I convinced her to wait until Marigold was a bit more comfortable with all her other new projects. We don't want to overwhelm her.
She is a nice, polite little thing, though a little lacking in…something. Almost as if the pinch of salt was left out. I declare, Woody, when I think of how ignorance is damaging the young people of today, I could almost be as fierce as Mother! You and I know the importance of plenty of fresh air and exercise, as well as the absolute necessity of independent thinking and responsibilities. Now here is a girl, fifteen years old, and she hardly has an original thought in her head! I do not blame you, cousin. Thanks to our correspondence over the years I know just how you feel about Marigold's upbringing. She hasn't been taught responsibility, surrounded as she is by protectors. She hasn't a clue how to run a household, as everything at Cloud of Spruce is left to Lazarre and Salome. She's been coddled by Lorraine until she's spoiled, and dominated over by Marian until she's spineless. I've heard her talking to Mickey about her friend Budge (by the by, what a dreadful nickname), and it seems clear that he runs roughshod over her! If there is anything I can do for Marigold while she's here, I hope it's that I can teach her to think for herself and stand on her own two feet.
Forgive my rant, Woody. I know you and Klondike have done your best for her, but really, what can you do, blocked, as it were, by her mother and grandmother? Your idea of sending her here, using this past summer as an excuse, was brilliant. You can be assured that Mother and I will do everything in our power to heal the damage that's been done, and recover the charming, bright intelligent, spirited girl you described to me almost ten years ago. Mother sends her love. All our best,
Miranda Babcock.
Silver Birches
Harmony Village
September 24, 1931
Dear Mira,
I'm so glad everything is going well for you and Aunt Edna. Mickey seems like a godsend. I do hope Marigold takes whatever lessons she learns from you and keeps them close when she returns. I knew you two would be perfect—you, who've had such tragedy in your life yet never grown bitter, and Aunt Edna, who has such life and spirit even at eighty-three. I've wanted to get Marigold away—away from all her influences here—for such a long time, but never had the opportunity to bring it up. Klon's mother would never forgive me if I hinted that she wasn't doing a good job raising Marigold. If Old Grandmother—Klon's grandmother, you know, the matriarch of the family—had lived, she would have done much for Marigold. Just the memory of her has kept the child from all kinds of vices and errors, but a ghost cannot do much, you know.
I'm sorry this is so brief, but lately I've been easing back into the medical practice, and there's a poor family down at the harbor that desperately needs care. That's one of the beauties of being married. I'm not reliant on patient fees to put food on the table. Klon brings in enough for us to live on, and I am able to help those who truly need it. I must fly,
Marigold Lesley.
Misty Hollow
Blair Water
September 29, 1931
Dearest Mother,
I am sorry I haven't written much lately. Mickey and I have been dreadfully busy getting the house all ready for winter. It is utterly fascinating to see how much work goes into running a house smoothly. I had no idea it was so difficult and interesting. Aunt Edna told me yesterday that the dinner I prepared was one of the best she's ever had in her house. I tell you, Mother, I was so proud. I've always been able to cook, you know, but I had a horrible suspicion that you and Salome were always just polite about how good things were. Aunt Edna is never polite, and so I know she was telling the truth. Cousin Mira is helping me sew a skirt. I've made one already. It's dreadful, really, all crooked seams and loose threads, but I only wear it for helping Mickey, so it doesn't matter. Now that I know better what to do, this one will be much nicer. It's the darlingest shade of yellow, just the color that brings out the golden highlights in my hair. Cousin Mira told me that when I wear yellow I'm just like a ray of sunshine brightening up their gloomy house. Wasn't that perfectly sweet of her? Of course, Misty Hollow isn't really gloomy at all, but it was still kind of her to compliment me so. Mickey never pays me compliments, but I feel instinctively that he wouldn't let me spend so much time with him if he didn't like me at least a little. He's so clever, Mother, he can do anything at all, and when he plays his fiddle, it's as if I can see the music. I can't explain it, but I almost feel like it reached down into my soul and brings my hidden thoughts to life. Oh, it sounds too silly when I write it down like that. I'd scratch it out, but then you'd wonder what I'd written, and maybe worry. I know Grandmother doesn't like the idea of me spending so much time with a hired hand, but Mickey's such a superior hired hand, and a perfectly lovely person. I wish I'd had an older brother, Mother. I like to pretend to myself that Mickey really is my older brother sometimes. Isn't it silly? A big girl of fifteen, and I still pretend to myself sometimes. Don't tell Grandmother. She'd think I was going crazy. But that's really how I feel. He's just like an older brother—kind, protective, nice; he teaches me everything he can, and he never told Aunt Edna about the day I fell into the brook and soaked myself! Have you heard anything at all about Budge? He hasn't written me any letters from Queen's. I'm dying to know what it's like. I hope he's doing alright. Likely he's just very busy studying. I still miss you, Mother, and am looking forward to coming home, but I think I'm glad you sent me here. I feel as though I've already grown somehow. I can't explain it. All my love and kisses (and please take some flowers from me to Father's grave next time—I don't want him to think I've forgotten),
Marigold.
Queen's Academy
Charlottetown
September 30, 1931
Dear Marigold,
School is fine. Having lots of fun. You'd be jealous if I told you everything I was doing, so I won't. Classes are boring and the professors dull, but the fellows are fine and I'm a big hit with the girls. Sorry you're still stuck in Blair Water. Must be awful boring. I don't ever want to go back to Harmony. It's city life for me from now on. Oh, and don't call me Budge anymore. It's too babyish. All the fellows call me Sid. Suppose I'll see you this summer, but maybe not. I might stay here. We'll see. Must go, I have a date with Annie Recker. Prettiest girl at Queen's, and she thinks I'm swell. See you,
Sid.
Queen's Academy
Charlottetown
September 30, 1931
Dear Marigold,
It's too mean that you couldn't come to Queen's. Grandmother is so unfair. We could have roomed together and had all sorts of fun. Instead I have pokey old Becky Frye, who wouldn't know fun if it bit her on the nose.
I have a stunning new dress for the dance next month. Nobody has asked me to go yet, but I'll go by myself if I have to—or I'll ask one of the boys! I don't see why a girl can't ask a fellow once in a while. The only one I won't ask is your old friend Budge—or Sid, as he insists on being called now. I call him Budge in front of his friends and he does get mad! He's turned into an awful flirt. I don't know what you ever saw in him. His friend Tad isn't so bad, but he's just dull as ditchwater.
Oh, and Marigold, I finally cut my hair. I insisted and insisted that I wouldn't cut it, just because everyone told me I should. But then I got here and everyone has their hair cut and waved. I looked too provincial beside them. So I got it cut, and it looks so good. Everybody thinks I'm so stylish. Oh Marigold, do you remember the day I got my head stuck in the gate because of my curls? I simply shriek with laughter every time I remember that trip. Do you remember the blueberry wine? And the Weed Man? And dressing up for that costume party and frightening old Mrs. Lawrence nearly to death? Gosh, but that was some fun. And how you wouldn't let me baptize the kittens? You were a squeamish little thing then. Have you got more gizzard now? I guess not, if you're friends with an idiot like Sid Guest. Try to have some fun in Blair Water. After all, you're not under Grandmother's thumb anymore. You can do whatever you want, although I've heard from a girl who's from that area that old Mrs. Babcock is a perfect fiend. Gee, you just don't seem to have much luck, do you? Wish you could be here with me. I'd soon loosen you up a bit, and then we'd show these Charlottetown snobs what Lesleys are really capable of! Take care, darling,
Gwennie.
