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Updated: June 13, 2025
I like your spunk. Most girls nowadays are such timid, skeery creeturs. When I was a girl I wasn't afraid of nothing nor nobody. Mind you take good care of that boy. He ain't any common child. And make Robert drive round all the puddles in the road. I won't have that new buggy splashed." As they drove away Jims threw kisses at Mrs. Matilda Pitman as long as he could see her, and Mrs.
James Anderson had written to her not long before this; he was wounded and in the hospital; he would not be able to go back to the front and as soon as he was able he would be coming home for Jims. Rilla was heavy-hearted over this, and worried also.
"He may be getting stronger but he's getting naughtier, too," said Aunt Augusta, grimly. "I am sorry to say, Walter, that he behaves very badly." "We were all young once," said Uncle Walter indulgently. "Were you?" asked Jims in blank amazement. Uncle Walter laughed. "Do you think me an antediluvian, Jims?" "I don't know what that is.
On this particular night Rilla was tired and cold and very thankful to creep into her warm nest and cuddle down between her blankets, though as usual with a sorrowful wonder how Jem and Jerry were faring. She was just getting warm and drowsy when Jims suddenly began to cry and kept on crying. Rilla curled herself up in her bed and determined she would let him cry.
There was no one in the living-room, save Jims, who had fallen asleep on the sofa, and Doc, who sat "hushed in grim repose" on the hearth-rug, looking very Hydeish indeed. No one was in the dining-room either and, stranger still, no dinner was on the table, which was not even set. Where was Susan? "Can she have taken ill?" exclaimed Mrs. Blythe anxiously.
"I'm fond of children, miss," she said heartily. "I'm used to them I've left six little brothers and sisters behind me. Jims is a dear child and I must say you've done wonders in bringing him up so healthy and handsome. I'll be as good to him as if he was my own, miss. And I'll make Jim toe the line all right.
Shyness was no fault of Jims. "I came from the house over the wall," he said. "My name is James Brander Churchill. Aunt Augusta shut me up in the blue room because I spilled my pudding at dinner. I hate to be shut up. And I was to have had a ride this afternoon and ice cream and maybe a movie. So I was mad. And when your Very Handsome Cat came and looked at me I just got out and climbed down."
He gasped so horribly for breath the poor little soul and his face turned a dreadful bluish colour and had such an agonized expression, and he kept struggling with his little hands, as if he were appealing to us to help him somehow. I found myself thinking that the boys who had been gassed at the front must have looked like that, and the thought haunted me amid all my dread and misery over Jims.
"She sprinkled a spoonful of sulphur over the coals; and then she picked up Jims, turned him over, and held him face downward, right over those choking, blinding fumes. I don't know why I didn't spring forward and snatch him away. Susan says it was because it was fore-ordained that I shouldn't, and I think she is right, because it did really seem that I was powerless to move.
"Will you come here and sit down?" she added, pulling a chair out from the table. "Thank you. I'd rather sit here," said Jims, plumping down on the grass at her feet. "Then maybe your cat will come to me." The cat came over promptly and rubbed his head against Jims' knee. Jims stroked him delightedly; how lovely his soft fur felt and his round velvety head.
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