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 man's 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 can't be dead-I'd have seen their deaths in the paper if they
was. And I'd athought if they'd moved away it'd been printed too. They
can't 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 I've been
tramping all the way from the station, athinking how good it would be to
see Aunt Sally's sweet old face again, and hear Uncle Tom's laugh, and
all I find is a boarded-up house going to seed.S'pose I might as well
toddle over to Stetsons' and inquire if they haven't 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?
Don't you remember Lovell Stevens and how you used to give him plum
tarts when he'd bring your turkeys home?" Mrs. Stetson caught both his
hands in a hearty clasp. "I guess I haven't forgotten!" she declared.
"Well, well, and you're Lovell! I think I ought to know your face,
though you've 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. "Ain't likely to forget some of the capers you
used to be cutting up. You've 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." Lovell's face clouded. "I know I ought
to have written,"
