Sara's Way Page #2

"Sara's Way" by Lucy Maud Montgomery is a poignant tale that follows the journey of Sara, a spirited and imaginative young girl navigating the challenges of growing up. Set against the backdrop of rural Canada, the story delves into themes of identity, independence, and the complexities of family relationships. Through Sara's experiences, Montgomery explores the struggle between societal expectations and personal desires, ultimately celebrating the resilience of the human spirit. With Montgomery's signature lyrical prose, "Sara's Way" captures the beauty and trials of adolescence, making it a timeless coming-of-age narrative.

• Short story

								

around the quilt, and tongues and fingers flew.  Sara flitted
about, helping her aunt with the supper preparations.  She was in
the room, getting the custard dishes out of the cupboard, when
Mrs. George Pye arrived.

Mrs. George had a genius for being late.  She was later than
usual to-day, and she looked excited.  Every woman around the
"Rising Star" felt that Mrs. George had some news worth listening
to, and there was an expectant silence while she pulled out her
chair and settled herself at the quilt.

She was a tall, thin woman with a long pale face and liquid green
eyes.  As she looked around the circle she had the air of a cat
daintily licking its chops over some titbit.

"I suppose," she said, "that you have heard the news?"

She knew perfectly well that they had not.  Every other woman at
the frame stopped quilting.  Mrs. Eben came to the door with a
pan of puffy, smoking-hot soda biscuits in her hand.  Sara
stopped counting the custard dishes, and turned her
ripely-colored face over her shoulder.  Even the black cat, at
her feet, ceased preening his fur. Mrs. George felt that the
undivided attention of her audience was hers.

"Baxter Brothers have failed," she said, her green eyes shooting
out flashes of light.  "Failed DISGRACEFULLY!"

She paused for a moment; but, since her hearers were as yet
speechless from surprise, she went on.

"George came home from Newbridge, just before I left, with the
news.  You could have knocked me down with a feather.  I should
have thought that firm was as steady as the Rock of Gibraltar!
But they're ruined--absolutely ruined.  Louisa, dear, can you
find me a good needle?"

"Louisa, dear," had set her biscuits down with a sharp thud,
reckless of results.  A sharp, metallic tinkle sounded at the
closet where Sara had struck the edge of her tray against a
shelf.  The sound seemed to loosen the paralyzed tongues, and
everybody began talking and exclaiming at once.  Clear and shrill
above the confusion rose Mrs. George Pye's voice.

"Yes, indeed, you may well say so.  It IS disgraceful.  And to
think how everybody trusted them!  George will lose considerable
by the crash, and so will a good many folks.  Everything will
have to go--Peter Baxter's farm and Lige's grand new house.  Mrs.
Peter won't carry her head so high after this, I'll be bound.
George saw Lige at the Bridge, and he said he looked dreadful cut
up and ashamed."

"Who, or what's to blame for the failure?" asked Mrs. Rachel
Lynde sharply.  She did not like Mrs. George Pye.

"There are a dozen different stories on the go," was the reply.
"As far as George could make out, Peter Baxter has been
speculating with other folks' money, and this is the result.
Everybody always suspected that Peter was crooked; but you'd have
thought that Lige would have kept him straight.  HE had always
such a reputation for saintliness."

"I don't suppose Lige knew anything about it," said Mrs. Rachel
indignantly.

"Well, he'd ought to, then.  If he isn't a knave he's a fool,"
said Mrs. Harmon Andrews, who had formerly been among his
warmest partisans.  "He should have kept watch on Peter and found
out how the business was being run.  Well, Sara, you were the
level-headest of us all--I'll admit that now.  A nice mess it
would be if you were married or engaged to Lige, and him left
without a cent--even if he can clear his character!"

"There is a good deal of talk about Peter, and swindling, and a
lawsuit," said Mrs. George Pye, quilting industriously.  "Most of
the Newbridge folks think it's all Peter's fault, and that Lige
isn't to blame.  But you can't tell.  I dare say Lige is as deep
in the mire as Peter.  He was always a little too good to be
wholesome, I thought."

There was a clink of glass at the cupboard, as Sara set the tray
down.  She came forward and stood behind Mrs. Rachel Lynde's
chair, resting her shapely hands on that lady's broad shoulders.
Her face was very pale, but her flashing eyes sought and faced
defiantly Mrs. George Pye's cat-like orbs.  Her voice quivered
with passion and contempt.

"You'll all have a fling at Lige Baxter, now that he's down.  You
couldn't say enough in his praise, once.  I'll not stand by and
hear it hinted that Lige Baxter is a swindler.  You all know
perfectly well that Lige is as honest as the day, if he IS so
unfortunate as to have an unprincipled brother.  You, Mrs. Pye,
know it better than any one, yet you come here and run him down
the minute he's in trouble.  If there's another word said here
against Lige Baxter I'll leave the room and the house till you're
gone, every one of you."

She flashed a glance around the quilt that cowed the gossips.
Even Mrs. George Pye's eyes flickered and waned and quailed.
Nothing more was said until Sara had picked up her glasses and
marched from the room.  Even then they dared not speak above a
whisper.  Mrs. Pye, alone, smarting from the snub, ventured to
ejaculate, "Pity save us!" as Sara slammed the door.

For the next fortnight gossip and rumor held high carnival in
Avonlea and Newbridge, and Mrs. Eben grew to dread the sight of a
visitor.

"They're bound to talk about the Baxter failure and criticize
Lige," she deplored to Mrs. Jonas.  "And it riles Sara up so
terrible.  She used to declare that she hated Lige, and now she
won't listen to a word against him.  Not that I say any, myself.
I'm sorry for him, and I believe he's done his best.  But I can't
stop other people from talking."

One evening Harmon Andrews came in with a fresh budget of news.

"The Baxter business is pretty near wound up at last," he said,
as he lighted his pipe.  "Peter has got his lawsuits settled and
has hushed up the talk about swindling, somehow.  Trust him for
slipping out of a scrape clean and clever. He don't seem to worry
any, but Lige looks like a walking skeleton.  Some folks pity
him, but I say he should have kept the run of things better and
not have trusted everything to Peter.  I hear he's going out West
in the Spring, to take up land in Alberta and try his hand at
farming.  Best thing he can do, I guess.  Folks hereabouts have
had enough of the Baxter breed.  Newbridge will be well rid of
them."

Sara, who had been sitting in the dark corner by the stove,
suddenly stood up, letting the black cat slip from her lap to the
floor.  Mrs. Eben glanced at her apprehensively, for she was
afraid the girl was going to break out in a tirade against the
complacent Harmon.

But Sara only walked fiercely out of the kitchen, with a sound as
if she were struggling for breath.  In the hall she snatched a
scarf from the wall, flung open the front door, and rushed down
the lane in the chill, pure air of the autumn twilight.  Her
heart was throbbing with the pity she always felt for bruised and
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