L M Montgomery Short Story: The Little Black Doll

Canadian author Lucy Maud Montgomery was born in Prince Edward Island on November 30, 1874. She achieved international fame in her lifetime, putting Prince Edward Island and Canada on the world literary stage. Best known for her "Anne of Green Gables" books, she was also a prolific writer of short stories and poetry.

This collection features those stories.

This episode features Part Two of 'A Strayed Allegiance'.

Transcript

Welcome to Sleep Stories with Steph.

It is time to relax and fully let go.

There is nothing you need to be doing now and nowhere you need to go.

Close your eyes and feel yourself sink into the support beneath you.

And let all the worries of the day drift away.

This is your time and your space.

Take a deep breath in through your nose and let it out with a long sigh.

There is nothing you need to be doing now and nowhere you need to go.

Everybody in the Marshall household was excited on the evening of the concert at the Harbour Light Hotel.

Everybody,

Even to little Joyce,

Who couldn't go to the concert because there wasn't anybody else to stay with her.

Perhaps Denise was the most excited of them all.

Denise,

Who was slowly dying of consumption in the Marshall kitchen chamber because there was no other place in the world for her to die in or anybody to trouble about her.

Mrs.

Roderick Marshall thought it very good of herself to do so much for Denise.

To be sure,

She was not much bother and little Joyce did most of the waiting on her.

At the tea table,

Nothing was talked of but the concert,

For was not Madame Laurine,

The great French-Canadian prima donna at the hotel,

And was she not going to sing?

It was the opportunity of a lifetime.

The Marshalls would not have missed it for anything.

Stately,

Handsome old grandmother Marshall was going and Uncle Roderick and Aunt Isabella and of course Chrissie who was always taken everywhere because she was pretty and graceful and everything little Joyce was not.

Little Joyce would have liked to go to the concert for she was very fond of music and besides she wanted to be able to tell Denise all about it.

But when you were shy and homely and thin and awkward,

Your grandmother never takes you anywhere.

At least such was little Joyce's belief.

Little Joyce knew quite well that grandmother Marshall did not like her.

She thought it was because she was so plain and awkward and in part it was.

Grandmother Marshall cared very little for granddaughters who did not do her credit but little Joyce's mother had married a poor man in the face of her family's disapproval and then both she and her husband had been inconsiderate enough to die and leave a small orphan without a penny to support her.

Grandmother Marshall fed and clothed the child but who could make anything of such a shy creature with no gifts or graces whatsoever?

Grandmother Marshall had no intention of trying.

Chrissie the golden-haired and pink-cheeked was her pet.

Little Joyce knew this.

She did not envy Chrissie but oh how she wished grandmother Marshall would love her a little too.

Nobody loved her but Denise and the little black doll and little Joyce was beginning to understand Denise would not be in the kitchen chamber very much longer and the little black doll couldn't tell you she loved you although she did of course.

Little Joyce had no doubt at all on this point.

Little Joyce sighed so deeply over this thought that Uncle Roderick smiled.

He did smile at her sometimes.

What's the matter little Joyce?

He asked.

I was thinking about my black doll she said timidly.

Oh your black doll.

If Madame Lorraine was to see it she'd likely want it.

She makes a hobby of collecting dolls all over the world but I doubt if she has in her collection a doll that served to amuse a little girl four thousand years ago in the court of the pharaohs.

I think little Joyce's black doll is very ugly said Chrissie.

My wax doll is ever so much prettier.

She isn't ugly cried little Joyce indignantly.

She could endure to be called ugly herself but she could not bear to have her darling doll called ugly.

In her excitement she upset her cup of tea with the tablecloth.

Aunt Isabella looked angry and Grandmother Marshall said sharply Joyce leave the table.

You grow more awkward and careless every day.

Little Joyce on the verge of tears crept away and went up the kitchen stairs to Denise but Denise herself had been crying.

She lay on her little bed by the low window where the glow of the sunset was coming in.

Her hollow cheeks were scarlet with fever.

I want so much to hear Madame Lorraine sing she sobbed.

I feel like I could die easier if I heard her sing just one little song.

She's French woman too and she sing all the old French songs.

My mother sang long ago I want to hear Madame Lorraine sing.

But you can't dear Denise said little Joyce very softly stroking her hot forehead with her cool slender hand.

Little Joyce had very pretty hands.

Nobody else had ever noticed them.

You're not strong enough to go to the concert.

I'll sing for you.

Of course I can't sing very well but I'll do my best.

You sing like a sweet bird but you're not Madame Lorraine said Denise restlessly.

It is great Madame Lorraine I want to hear.

I have not long to live now.

She sing before I die.

I know it's impossible but I long for it.

Just one little song.

Denise put her thin hands over her face and sobbed again.

So little Joyce went and sat down by the window looking out into the white birches.

Her heart ached bitterly.

Dear Denise was going to die.

Little Joyce wise and knowing beyond her years saw that and Denise wanted to hear Madame Lorraine sing too.

It seemed a foolish thing to think of but little Joyce thought hard about it and when she finished thinking she got her little black doll and took it to bed and there she cried herself to sleep.

At the breakfast table next morning the marshals talked about the concert and the wonderful Madame Lorraine.

Little Joyce listened in her usual silence.

Her crying the night before had not improved her looks any.

Never thought handsome Grandmother Marshall had she appeared so sallow and homely.

Really she could not have the patience to look at her.

She decided she would not take Joyce driving and that Chrissie would come this afternoon as she had thought of after all.

In the forenoon it was discovered that Denise was much worse.

The doctor was sent for.

He came and shook his head.

That being really all he could do under the circumstances.

When he went away he was waylaid at the back door by a small gypsy with a big black serious pair of eyes and long black hair.

Is Denise going to die?

Little Joyce asked in the blunt straightforward fashion Grandmother Marshall found so trying.

The doctor looked at her from under his shaggy brows and decided he was one of those people to whom you might as well tell the truth because they're bound to have it anyway.

Yes he said.

Soon?

Very soon I'm afraid.

In a few days at most.

Thank you said Little Joyce gravely.

After dinner Grandmother Marshall and Chrissie drove away and Aunt Roderick and Aunt Isabella went away too.

Little Joyce crept up to the kitchen chamber.

Denise was lying in an uneasy sleep with tear stains on her face.

Then Little Joyce tiptoed down and sped away to the hotel.

She did not know what she would say or what she would do when she got there but she had to go to the hotel.

She thought hard all the way to the end of the shore road and when she came out to the shore there was a lady sitting alone on a big rock.

A lady with a dark beautiful face and wonderful eyes.

Little Joyce stopped before her and looked at her meditatively.

Perhaps it would be well to ask advice.

If you please said Little Joyce who was never shy with strangers for whose opinion she didn't care at all.

I want to see Madame Lorraine at the hotel and ask her to do me a very great favour.

Will you tell me the best way to go about seeing her?

I should be much obliged to you.

What is the favour you want to ask of Madame Lorraine?

Inquired the lady smiling.

I want to ask if she'll come and sing for Denise before she dies.

Denise is our French girl and the doctor says she can't live very long and she wishes with all her heart to hear Madame Lorraine sing.

It's very bitter you know to be dying and want something very much and not be able to get it.

Do you think Madame Lorraine will go?

Asked the lady.

I don't know.

I'm going to offer her my little black doll.

If she will not come for that there's nothing else I can do.

A flash of interest lighted up the lady's brown eyes and she bent forward.

Is that your doll you have in that box?

Will you let me see it?

Little Joyce nodded.

Mutely she opened the box and took out the black doll.

The lady gave an exclamation of amazed delight and almost snatched it from Little Joyce.

It was a very peculiar little doll indeed carved out of some black polished wood.

Where in the world did you get this?

She cried.

Father got it out of a grave in Egypt said Little Joyce.

It was buried with the mummy of a little girl who lived four thousand years ago.

She must have loved her doll very much to have it buried with her mustn't she?

But she could not have loved it any more than I do.

And yet you will give it away said the lady looking at her keenly.

For Denise's sake explained Little Joyce I'd do anything for Denise because I love her and she loves me.

We're the only person in the world who loves who's going to die.

There's nothing you would not do for her if you could.

Denise was so good to me before she took sick.

She used to kiss me and play with me and make little cakes for me and tell me beautiful stories.

The lady put the little black doll back in the box.

Then she stood up and held out her hand.

Come she said I am Madame Ruin and I will go and sing for Denise.

Into the kitchen they both went and back up the back stairs to the kitchen chamber.

A proceeding which would have filled Aunt Isabella with horror if she had known.

But Madame Ruin did not seem to mind and Little Joyce never thought about it at all.

It was Little Joyce's awkward un-martial like fashion to go to a place by the shortest way even if it was up the back kitchen stairs.

Madame Ruin stood in the bare little room and looked pityingly at the wasted wistful face on the pillow.

This is Madame Ruin and she's going to sing for you Denise whispered Little Joyce.

Denise's face lit up and she clasped her hands.

If you please she said faintly a French song Madame.

How beautifully did Madame Ruin sing.

Never had that kitchen chamber been so filled with glorious melody.

Song after song she sang the old folklore songs of Habiton.

The songs perhaps Evangeline listened to in her childhood.

Little Joyce knelt by the bed her eyes on the singer like one entranced.

Denise lay with her face full of joy and rapture.

Little Joyce did not regret the sacrifice of her black doll.

Never could she regret it as long as she remembered Denise's look.

Thank you Madame said Denise brokenly when Madame ceased.

It was so beautiful.

Now Little Joyce must sing for me said Madame smiling she sat down by the window.

I always like to hear fresh childish voices.

I will sing as well as I can for you said Little Joyce of course but I can't sing very well and I don't know anything but hymns.

I always sing those for Denise although she's a Catholic and the hymns are Protestant but her priest told her it was all right.

Then she began slipping her hand into Denise's.

At the first note Madame Lorraine who'd been gazing out of the window with a rather listless smile turned quickly and looked at her with amazed eyes.

Then she rose impulsively her face and eyes glowing.

She stepped swiftly to Little Joyce and took the thin dark face between her hands.

What a wonderful voice you have he said.

What a marvellous voice.

I never heard such a voice in a child of your age.

You will be a great singer someday far greater than I but you must have training.

Where are your parents?

I must see them.

I have no parents said the bewildered Little Joyce.

I belong to Grandmother Marshall and she's out driving.

Then I shall wait until your Grandmother Marshall comes home from her drive.

Half an hour later a very much surprised old lady was listening to Madame Lorraine's enthusiastic statements.

How is it I have never heard you sing if you can sing so well asked Grandmother Marshall looking at Little Joyce with something in her eyes that she had never seen in them before.

Little Joyce hung her head.

It had never occurred to her to sing in her Grandmother's presence.

This little girl must be trained by and by said Madame Lorraine.

If you cannot afford it I will see to it.

Such a voice must not be wasted.

Thank you said Grandmother Marshall but I am quite able to give my granddaughter all the necessary advantages for the development of her gift.

Madame Lorraine bent and kissed Little Joyce's brown cheek.

Little gypsy goodbye but come every day to this hotel to see me and next summer I shall be back.

Someday you will be a great singer because today you are a loving unselfish baby.

But you have forgotten the little black doll Madame said Little Joyce gravely.

Madame threw up her hands laughing.

No no I shall not take your little black doll of the 4,

000 years.

Keep it for a mascot.

A great singer always needs a mascot.

When Madame Lorraine had gone Grandmother Marshall looked at Little Joyce.

Come to my room Joyce she said.

I want to see if we cannot find a more becoming way of arranging your hair.

It has grown so thick and long I had no idea how thick and long it really was.

We'd certainly find a better way than that stiff braid can't we?

Then Little Joyce taking Grandmother Marshall's extended hand felt very happy.

This strange stately old lady who never liked little girls unless they were pretty or graceful or clever was beginning to love her at last.