Bertie's New Year Page #2

"Bertie's New Year" is a charming short story by Lucy Maud Montgomery that captures the essence of youthful hope and the bittersweet joy of new beginnings. The narrative follows Bertie, a young boy navigating the wonders and challenges that come with the turn of the year. Through heartwarming interactions and introspective moments, the story explores themes of friendship, family, and the promise of change. Montgomery's lyrical prose evokes a sense of nostalgia and the universal desire for renewal, making it a delightful read for those who appreciate the magic of storytelling.

• Short story

								


The doctor laughed. "Write him a nice little note of invitation--you
are the lady of the house, you know--and I'll see that he gets it
tomorrow."

And this was how it came to pass that Bertie received the next day his
first invitation to dine out. He read the little note through three
times in order fully to take in its contents, and then went around the
rest of the day in deep abstraction as though he was trying to decide
some very important question. It was with the same expression that he
opened the door at home in the evening. His aunt was stirring some
oatmeal mush on the stove.

"Is that you, Bert?" She spoke sharply. She always spoke sharply, even
when not intending it; it had grown to be a habit.

"Yes'm," said Bertie meekly, as he hung up his cap.

"I s'pose you've only got one day more at the store," said Mrs. Ross.
"Sampson didn't say anything about keeping you longer, did he?"

"No. He said he couldn't--I asked him."

"Well, I didn't expect he would. You'll have a holiday on New Year's
anyhow; whether you'll have anything to eat or not is a different
question."

"I've an invitation to dinner," said Bertie timidly, "me and William
John. It's from Doctor Forbes's little girls--the ones that gave me
the mittens."

He handed her the little note, and Mrs. Ross stooped down and read it
by the fitful gleam of light which came from the cracked stove.

"Well, you can please yourself," she said as she handed it back, "but
William John couldn't go if he had ten invitations. He caught cold
coasting yesterday. I told him he would, but he was bound to go, and
now he's laid up for a week. Listen to him barking in the bedroom
there."

"Well, then, I won't go either," said Bertie with a sigh, it might be
of relief, or it might be of disappointment. "I wouldn't go there all
alone."

"You're a goose!" said his aunt. "They wouldn't eat you. But as I
said, please yourself. Anyhow, hold your tongue about it to William
John, or you'll have him crying and bawling to go too."

The caution came too late. William John had already heard it, and when
his mother went in to rub his chest with liniment, she found him with
the ragged quilt over his head crying.

"Come, William John, I want to rub you."

"I don't want to be rubbed--g'way," sobbed William John. "I heard you
out there--you needn't think I didn't. Bertie's going to Doctor
Forbes's to dinner and I can't go."

"Well, you've only yourself to thank for it," returned his mother. "If
you hadn't persisted in going out coasting yesterday when I wanted you
to stay in, you'd have been able to go to Doctor Forbes's. Little boys
who won't do as they're told always get into trouble. Stop crying,
now. I dare say if Bertie goes they'll send you some candy, or
something."

But William John refused to be comforted. He cried himself to sleep
that night, and when Bertie went in to see him next morning, he found
him sitting up in bed with his eyes red and swollen and the faded
quilt drawn up around his pinched face.

"Well, William John, how are you?"

"I ain't any better," replied William John mournfully. "I s'pose
you'll have a great time tomorrow night, Bertie?"

"Oh, I'm not going since you can't," said Bertie cheerily. He thought
this would comfort William John, but it had exactly the opposite
effect. William John had cried until he could cry no more, but he
turned around and sobbed.

"There now!" he said in tearless despair. "That's just what I
expected. I did s'pose if I couldn't go you would, and tell me about
it. You're mean as mean can be."

"Come now, William John, don't be so cross. I thought you'd rather
have me home, but I'll go, if you want me to."

"Honest, now?"

"Yes, honest. I'll go anywhere to please you. I must be off to the
store now. Goodbye."

Thus committed, Bertie took his courage in both hands and went. The
next evening at dusk found him standing at Doctor Forbes's door with
a very violently beating heart. He was carefully dressed in his
well-worn best suit and a neat white collar. The frosty air had
crimsoned his cheeks and his hair was curling round his face.

Caroline opened the door and showed him into the parlour, where Edith
and Amy were eagerly awaiting him.

"Happy New Year, Bertie," cried Amy. "And--but, why, where is William
John?"

"He couldn't come," answered Bertie anxiously--he was afraid he might
not be welcome without William John. "He's real sick. He caught cold
and has to stay in bed; but he wanted to come awful bad."

"Oh, dear me! Poor William John!" said Amy in a disappointed tone. But
all further remarks were cut short by the entrance of Doctor Forbes.

"How do you do?" he said, giving Bertie's hand a hearty shake. "But
where is the other little fellow my girls were expecting?"

Bertie patiently reaccounted for William John's non-appearance.

"It's a bad time for colds," said the doctor, sitting down and
attacking the fire. "I dare say, though, you have to run so fast these
days that a cold couldn't catch you. I suppose you'll soon be leaving
Sampson's. He told me he didn't need you after the holiday season was
over. What are you going at next? Have you anything in view?"

Bertie shook his head sorrowfully.

"No, sir; but," he added more cheerfully, "I guess I'll find something
if I hunt around lively. I almost always do."

He forgot his shyness; his face flushed hopefully, and he looked
straight at the doctor with his bright, earnest eyes. The doctor poked
the fire energetically and looked very wise. But just then the girls
came up and carried Bertie off to display their holiday gifts. And
there was a fur cap and a pair of mittens for him! He wondered whether
he was dreaming.

"And here's a picture-book for William John," said Amy, "and there is
a sled out in the kitchen for him. Oh, there's the dinner-bell. I'm
awfully hungry. Papa says that is my 'normal condition,' but I don't
know what that means."

As for that dinner--Bertie might sometimes have seen such a repast in
delightful dreams, but certainly never out of them. It was a feast to
be dated from.

When the plum pudding came on, the doctor, who had been notably
silent, leaned back in his chair, placed his finger-tips together, and
looked critically at Bertie.

"So Mr. Sampson can't keep you?"

Bertie's face sobered at once. He had almost forgotten his
responsibilities.

"No, sir. He says I'm too small for the heavy work."

"Well, you are rather small--but no doubt you will grow. Boys have a
queer habit of doing that. I think you know how to make yourself
useful. I need a boy here to run errands and look after my horse. If
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