Daily Book Excerpt: YA/Children’s books:
At the Altar
At the Altar is another one of the collections put together by Rea Wilmhurst in the 90s of Lucy Maud’s work – her short stories, published throughout her life … but never before compiled. Rea Wilmhurst put different stories together thematically – and all of these have to do with (obviously) getting married.
“Aunt Philippa and the Men” is a very funny story – a Lucy Maud romance with that tone of COMEDY that I love so much – none of that sentimental stuff. She’s more interested in the absurdity. “Aunt Philippa” was published in Redbook in 1915 … and Aunt Philippa is a clear rehearsal for Miss Cornelia in Anne’s House of Dreams (which came out in 1917). They are very nearly the same character. The man-hating thing, the Methodist-hating thing, and also the good heart, the no-nonsense heart.
Ursula Goodwin is her niece and she has come to stay with Aunt Philippa for the summer. Ursula is in a bit of a crisis. She’s in love with someone – and her father does not approve of the match because of some age-old feud with the guy’s family. At least that’s what I think it is. She has been forbidden to marry him. Meanwhile, she has quarreled with him as well … so she thinks the whole thing might be off anyway … but her parents are terrified that she will make up with this person whom they do NOT want her to marry … so they ship her off to PEI and Aunt Philippa for the summer. Philippa picks her up at the ferry in her buggy and as they drive home, Philippa chats and rants and raves about the things that bug her. She gossips about the neighbor and the new minister (“I am of the opinion that he smokes”). She says that there are no good Methodists. Ursula protests: “My stepmother is a Methodist!” Philippa replies, “I would believe anything of a stepmother.” You know, it’s pure Lucy Maud comedy. Great stuff. So the summer goes by – and Ursula settles in to the slow PEI life … but she misses Mark (her guy) and wonders what will happen with them. Oh, and Philippa has NO sympathy for romantic problems of any kind because she hates men and thinks they are all despicable and are not worth ONE DROP of your tears. So Ursula can’t really confide in Philippa. She suffers in silence. But then – one day – Mark shows up at Aunt Philippa’s door. His firm is going to send him to South Africa in a month. He will be gone indefinitely. Will Ursula marry him? Now?? Ursula hesitates … she hates the thought of a quickie wedding like this … it feels like running away … and suddenly Aunt Philippa, the man-hater, swoops in and takes care of everything. Surprising everybody. There WILL be a wedding, and she will have it at her house … and everything will be fine.
I’ll post an excerpt from the wedding itself just because Philippa’s one comment after they become man and wife is so hilarious. Just great stuff.
Excerpt from At the Altar
For the next three weeks she was a blissfully excited, busy woman. I was allowed to choose the material and fashion of my wedding suit and hat myself, but almost everything else was settled by Aunt Philippa. I didn’t mind; it was a relief to be rid of all responsibility; I did protest when she declared her intention of having a big wedding and asking all the cousins and semi-cousins on the island, but Aunt Philippa swept by objections lightly aside.
“I’m bound to have one good wedding in this house,” she said. “Not likely I’ll ever have another chance.”
She found time amid all the baking and concocting to warn me frequently not to take it too much to heart if Mark failed to come after all.
“I know a man who jilted a girl on her wedding day. That’s the men for you. It’s best to be prepared.”
But Mark did come, getting there the evening before our wedding day. And then a severe blow fell on Aunt Philippa. Word came from the manse that Mr. Bentwell had been suddenly summoned to Nova Scotia to his mother’s deathbed; he had started that night.
“That’s the men for you,” said Aunt Philippa bitterly. “Never can depend on one of them, not even on a minister. What’s to be done down?”
“Get another minister,” said Mark easily.
“Where’ll you get him?” demanded Aunt Philippa. “The minister at Cliftonville is away on his vacation, and Mercer is vacant, and that leaves none nearer than town. It won’t do to depend on a town minister being able to come. No, there’s no help for it. You’ll have to have that Methodist man.”
Aunt Philippa’s tone was tragic. Plainly she thought the ceremony would scarcely be legal if that Methodist man married us. But neither Mark nor I cared. We were too happy to be disturbed by any such trifles.
The young Methodist minister married us the next day in the presence of many beaming guests. Aunt Philippa, splendid in black silk and point-lace collar, neither of which lost a whit of dignity or lustre by being made ten years before, was composure itself while the ceremony was going on. But no sooner had the minister pronounced us man and wife than she spoke up.
“Now that’s over I want someone to go right out and put out the fire on the kitchen roof. It’s been on fire for the last ten minutes.”
Minister and bridegroom headed the emergency brigade, and Aunt Philippa pumped the water for them. In a short time the fire was out, all was safe, and we were receiving our deferred congratulations.
That’s Aunt Philippa for you.
I just love the image of her sitting patiently through the ceremony, keeping an eye on the raging fire on her roof the whole time.
agreed. i was rerererere….rerereading this book when i was home for thanksgiving. a good collection!