A Fortunate Mistake

"A Fortunate Mistake" is a charming short story by Lucy Maud Montgomery that explores themes of serendipity and personal growth. The narrative follows a young protagonist who, through a seemingly simple error, finds herself in a series of unintended yet fortuitous circumstances. As she navigates the repercussions of her mistake, she discovers new perspectives on life, love, and the importance of embracing the unexpected. Montgomery's signature style blends humor and poignancy, showcasing her deep understanding of human emotions and relationships. This delightful tale ultimately illustrates how mistakes can lead to unexpected and positive outcomes.

• Short story

								
"Oh, dear! oh, dear!" fretted Nan Wallace, twisting herself about
uneasily on the sofa in her pretty room. "I never thought before that
the days could be so long as they are now."

"Poor you!" said her sister Maude sympathetically. Maude was moving
briskly about the room, putting it into the beautiful order that
Mother insisted on. It was Nan's week to care for their room, but Nan
had sprained her ankle three days ago and could do nothing but lie on
the sofa ever since. And very tired of it, too, was wide-awake, active
Nan.

"And the picnic this afternoon, too!" she sighed. "I've looked forward
to it all summer. And it's a perfect day--and I've got to stay here
and nurse this foot."

Nan looked vindictively at the bandaged member, while Maude leaned out
of the window to pull a pink climbing rose. As she did so she nodded
to someone in the village street below.

"Who is passing?" asked Nan.

"Florrie Hamilton."

"Is she going to the picnic?" asked Nan indifferently.

"No. She wasn't asked. Of course, I don't suppose she expected to be.
She knows she isn't in our set. She must feel horribly out of place at
school. A lot of the girls say it is ridiculous of her father to send
her to Miss Braxton's private school--a factory overseer's daughter."

"She ought to have been asked to the picnic all the same," said Nan
shortly. "She is in our class if she isn't in our set. Of course I
don't suppose she would have enjoyed herself--or even gone at all, for
that matter. She certainly doesn't push herself in among us. One would
think she hadn't a tongue in her head."

"She is the best student in the class," admitted Maude, arranging her
roses in a vase and putting them on the table at Nan's elbow. "But
Patty Morrison and Wilhelmina Patterson had the most to say about the
invitations, and they wouldn't have her. There, Nannie dear, aren't
those lovely? I'll leave them here to be company for you."

"I'm going to have more company than that," said Nan, thumping her
pillow energetically. "I'm not going to mope here alone all the
afternoon, with you off having a jolly time at the picnic. Write a
little note for me to Florrie Hastings, will you? I'll do as much for
you when you sprain your foot."

"What shall I put in it?" said Maude, rummaging out her portfolio
obligingly.

"Oh, just ask her if she will come down and cheer a poor invalid up
this afternoon. She'll come, I know. And she is such good company. Get
Dickie to run right out and mail it."

"I do wonder if Florrie Hamilton will feel hurt over not being asked
to the picnic," speculated Maude absently as she slipped her note into
an envelope and addressed it.

Florrie Hamilton herself could best have answered that question as she
walked along the street in the fresh morning sunshine. She did feel
hurt--much more keenly than she would acknowledge even to herself. It
was not that she cared about the picnic itself: as Nan Wallace had
said, she would not have been likely to enjoy herself if she had gone
among a crowd of girls many of whom looked down on her and ignored
her. But to be left out when every other girl in the school was
invited! Florrie's lip quivered as she thought of it.

"I'll get Father to let me to go to the public school after vacation,"
she murmured. "I hate going to Miss Braxton's."

Florrie was a newcomer in Winboro. Her father had recently come to
take a position in the largest factory of the small town. For this
reason Florrie was slighted at school by some of the ruder girls and
severely left alone by most of the others. Some, it is true, tried at
the start to be friends, but Florrie, too keenly sensitive to the
atmosphere around her to respond, was believed to be decidedly dull
and mopy. She retreated further and further into herself and was
almost as solitary at Miss Braxton's as if she had been on a desert
island.

"They don't like me because I am plainly dressed and because my father
is not a wealthy man," thought Florrie bitterly. And there was enough
truth in this in regard to many of Miss Braxton's girls to make a very
uncomfortable state of affairs.

"Here's a letter for you, Flo," said her brother Jack at noon. "Got it
at the office on my way home. Who is your swell correspondent?"

Florrie opened the dainty, perfumed note and read it with a face that,
puzzled at first, suddenly grew radiant.

"Listen, Jack," she said excitedly.

    "Dear Florrie:

    "Nan is confined to house, room, and sofa with a sprained
    foot. As she will be all alone this afternoon, won't you come
    down and spend it with her? She very much wants you to
    come--she is so lonesome and thinks you will be just the one
    to cheer her up.

                                 "Yours cordially,
                                    "Maude Wallace."

"Are you going?" asked Jack.

"Yes--I don't know--I'll think about it," said Florrie absently. Then
she hurried upstairs to her room.

"Shall I go?" she thought. "Yes, I will. I dare say Nan has asked me
just out of pity because I was not invited to the picnic. But even so
it was sweet of her. I've always thought I would like those Wallace
girls if I could get really acquainted with them. They've always been
nice to me, too--I don't know why I am always so tongue-tied and
stupid with them. But I'll go anyway."

That afternoon Mrs. Wallace came into Nan's room.

"Nan, dear, Florrie Hamilton is downstairs asking for you."

"Florrie--Hamilton?"

"Yes. She said something about a note you sent her this morning. Shall
I ask her to come up?"

"Yes, of course," said Nan lamely. When her mother had gone out she
fell back on her pillows and thought rapidly.

"Florrie Hamilton! Maude must have addressed that note to her by
mistake. But she mustn't know it was a mistake--mustn't suspect it.
Oh, dear! What shall I ever find to talk to her about? She is so quiet
and shy."

Further reflections were cut short by Florrie's entrance. Nan held out
her hand with a chummy smile.

"It's good of you to give your afternoon up to visiting a cranky
invalid," she said heartily. "You don't know how lonesome I've been
since Maude went away. Take off your hat and pick out the nicest chair
you can find, and let's be comfy."

Somehow, Nan's frank greeting did away with Florrie's embarrassment
and made her feel at home. She sat down in Maude's rocker, then,
glancing over to a vase filled with roses, her eyes kindled with
pleasure. Seeing this, Nan said, "Aren't they lovely? We Wallaces are
very fond of our climbing roses. Our great-grandmother brought the
roots out from England with her sixty years ago, and they grow nowhere
else in this country."

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