The Books: Against the Odds: ‘Dorinda’s Desperate Deed’ (L.M. Montgomery)

Daily Book Excerpt: YA/Children’s books:

Against the Odds: Tales of Achievement – ‘Dorinda’s Desperate Deed’ – by L.M. Montgomery

Against the Odds is yet another one of Rea Wilmhurst’s edited collections. The focus of this book is “tales of achievement” – each story has something to do with bucking the odds, going for what you want despite difficulties, etc. Lucy Maud made a nice little living from selling short stories – to magazines in Canada, but also in the States. She would sometimes write stories to order. If she knew a certain magazine liked Sunday School morals, then she’d write in a Sunday school moral. If a magazine was read only by women, she’d go for the romance. If a magazine focused on ghost stories and paranormal stories, she’d write that. It’s amazing the variety within these stories. Yes, she keeps coming back to some of the same characters, the archetypes, but still – reading them all, as a whole, I am just left with admiration at how much she actually DID. And this is along with being married to a bozo, having 2 kids, and having a role as a busy (busy busy) minister’s wife. She didn’t just sit in a garret and write all day long. She had other obligations. So it’s amazing.

The first story I want to excerpt in this collection is called ‘Dorinda’s Desperate Deed’ – it was written in 1906, and I think it’s charming.

Dorinda Page is 15 years old. She has spent a couple of years away with her Aunt Mary – but she is now back with her mother and her 5 siblings. Her father is dead, and her mother has had a helluva time going it alone. Money troubles torment her. There are mouths to feed, schooling to consider … clothes, etc. It’s overwhelming. Dorinda has been out of the fray for a couple of years so she comes home and is kind of shocked at the change in her mother, how worn out she is, how worried. Dorinda is a young woman with a very good attitude, you can tell – she talks to her mother one day and says, “Okay – so let’s talk about our priorities. What is the main list of things we have to pay for? And we’ll figure something out … but let’s list them first.” So Mrs. Page lists what she thinks is most important: Leicester Page’s college tuition, Jean Page’s music lessons, roof needs to be shingled … and Dorinda also says that her mother needs a new coat. During this conversation, it comes up that they have a rich uncle Eugene – and Dorinda asks her mother why don’t they borrow the money from him? Turns out that Eugene apparently hates this branch of the family – some old feud (you know, Lucy Maud is big on those) and has not spoken to Mrs. Page in a bazillion years. He’s stubborn, he’s scary, and apparently he hates the Pages. So that settles that. But Dorinda, determined to help her mother, decides to do the unthinkable – she decides to go to her Uncle Eugene’s, and ask him to lend them the money. This is a terrifying prospect, but Dorinda is (as the title says) “desperate”.

This is one of Lucy Maud’s show-pieces: a young girl going to confront a supposedly terrifying crotchety old man. She uses it often to great effect.

Here’s what happens.

Excerpt from Against the Odds: Tales of Achievement – ‘Dorinda’s Desperate Deed’ – by L.M. Montgomery

Oaklawn, where Uncle Eugene lived, was two miles away. It was a fine old place in beautiful grounds. But Dorinda did not quail before its splendours, nor did her heart fail her, even after she had rung the bell and had been shown by a maid inot a very handsome parlour, but it still continued to beat in that queer fashion halfway up her throat.

Presently Uncle Eugene came in, a tall, black-eyed old man, with a fine head of silver hair that should have framed a ruddy, benevolent face, instead of Uncle Eugene’s hard-lipped, bushy-browed countenance.

Dorinda stood up, dusky and crimson, with brave, glowing eyes. Uncle Eugene looked at her sharply.

“Who are you?” he said bluntly.

“I am your niece, Dorinda Page,” said Dorinda steadily.

“And what does my niece, Dorinda Page, want with me?” demanded Uncle Eugene, motioning to her to sit down and sitting down himself. But Dorinda remained standing. It is easier to fight on your feet.

“I want you to do four things, Uncle Eugene,” she said, as calmly as if she were making the most natural and ordinary request in the world. “I want you to lend us the money to send Leicester to Blue Hill Academy, he will pay it back to you when he gets through college. I want you to lend Jean the money for music lessons, she will pay you back when she gets far enough along to give lessons herself. And I want you to lend me the money to shingle our house and get Mother a new dress and fur coat for the winter. I’ll pay you back sometime for that, because I am going to set up as a dressmaker pretty soon.”

“Anything more?” said Uncle Eugene, when Dorinda stopped.

“Nothing more just now, I think,” said Dorinda reflectively.

“Why don’t you ask for something for yourself?” said Uncle Eugene.

“I don’t want anything for myself,” said Dorinda promptly. “Or – yes, I do, too. I want your friendship, Uncle Eugene.”

“Be kind enough to sit down,” said Uncle Eugene.

Dorinda sat.

“You are a Page,” said Uncle Eugene. “I saw that as soon as I came in. I will send Leicester to college and I shall not ask or expect to be paid back. Jean shall have her music lessons, and a piano to practise them on as well. The house shall be shingled, and the money for the new dress and coat shall be forthcoming. You and I will be friends.”

“Thank you,” gasped Dorinda, wondering if, after all, it wasn’t a dream.

“I would have gladly assisted your mother before,” said Uncle Eugene, “if she had asked me. I had determined that she must ask me first. I knew that half the money should have been your father’s by rights. I was prepared to hand it over to him or his family, if I were asked for it. But I wished to humble his pride, and the Carter pride, to the point of asking for it. Not a very amiable temper, you will say? I admit it. I am not amiable and I never have been amiable. You must be prepared to find me very unamiable. I see that you are waiting for a chance to say something polite and pleasant on that score, but you may save yourself the trouble. I shall hope and expect to have you visit me often. If your mother and your brothers and sisters see fit to come with you, I shall welcome them also. I think that this is all it is necessary to say just now. Will you stay to tea with me this eveing?”

Dorinda stayed to tea, since she knew that Jean was at home to attend to matters there. She and Uncle Eugene got on famously. When she left, Uncle Eugene, grim and hard-lipped as ever, saw her to the door.

“Good evening, Niece Dorinda. You are a Page and I am proud of you. Tell your mother that many things in this life are lost through not asking for them. I don’t think you are in need of the information for yourself.”