Chapter 1

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_Title:_ The Matchmaker
_Date of first publication:_ 1919
_Author:_ L. M. (Lucy Maud) Montgomery (1874-1942)
_Date first posted:_ May 31, 2017
_Date last updated:_ May 31, 2017
Faded Page eBook #20170565

This ebook was produced by: Alex White & the online Distributed
Proofreaders Canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net

The Matchmaker
L. M. Montgomery
Illustrations by O’Carter omitted, no bibliographical information
available.
First published _Canadian Home Journal_, September 1919.

“There is not a single baby in Lancaster,” said Mrs. Churchill. “There
is not one young married couple in Lancaster. And, what’s worse, nobody
is getting married or has any notion of getting married. It’s a
disheartening state of affairs.”

Mrs. Churchill was talking to her friend, Mrs. Mildred Burnham, as they
sat on her verandah in the clear, spring twilight. They were both
middle-aged widows and had been chums since they had shared the same
desk at school. Mrs. Burnham was a tall, thin lady, who admitted that
she had a sensitive disposition. Mrs. Churchill, who was a large,
placid, slow-moving person, never jarred on this sensitiveness; so they
were very fond of each other.

“Well,” said Mrs. Burnham, “all the people who have been married in
Lancaster for the last ten years have gone away. Just now there doesn’t
seem to be any candidates. What young folks there are hereabouts are
_too_ young—except Alden Churchill and this new niece of yours—what’s
her name?”

“Stella Chase.”

“Now, if _they_ would take a notion to each other?” suggested Mrs.
Burnham.

* * * * *

Mrs. Churchill gazed earnestly at the rose in her filet crochet. She had
already made up her mind that her nephew Alden should marry her niece
Stella, but matchmaking is something requiring subtlety and discretion,
and there are things you do not tell, even to your intimate friend.

“I don’t suppose there’s much chance of that,” she said, “and if they
did it wouldn’t be any use. Mary will never let Alden marry as long as
she can keep him from it—the property is hers until he marries and then
it goes to him, you know. And as for Richard, he has never let poor
Stella have a beau in her life. All the young men who ever tried to come
to see her he simply terrified out of their senses with sarcasm. He is
the most sarcastic creature you ever heard of. Stella can’t manage
him—her mother before her couldn’t manage him. They didn’t know how. He
goes by contraries, but neither of them ever seemed to catch on to
that.”

“I thought Miss Chase seemed very devoted to her father.”

“Oh, she is. She adores him. He is a most agreeable man when he gets his
own way about everything. He and I get on beautifully. _I_ know the
secret of coming it over him. I’m real glad they’ve moved up here from
Clancy. They’re such company for me. Stella is a very sweet girl. I
always loved her, and her mother was my favorite sister. Poor Lisette!”

“She died young?”

“Yes—when Stella was only eight. Richard brought Stella up himself. I
don’t wonder they’re everything to each other. But he should have more
sense about Stella’s marrying. He must know he can’t live
forever—though to hear him talk you’d think he meant to; he’s an old
man—he wasn’t young when he married. And what is Stella to do after
he’s gone? Just shrivel up, I suppose.”

“It’s a shame,” agreed Mrs. Burnham. “I don’t hold with old folks
spoiling young folks’ lives like that.”

“And Alden’s another whose life is going to be spoiled. Mary is
_determined_ he shan’t marry. Every time he’s gone about with a girl she
puts a stop to it somehow.”

“Do you s’pose it’s all her doings?” queried Mrs. Burnham, rather drily.
“Some folks think Alden is very changeable. I’ve heard him called a
flirt.”

“Alden is handsome and the girls chase him,” cried Mrs. Churchill, up in
arms against any criticism of her favorite. “I don’t blame him for
stringing them along a bit and dropping them when he’s taught them a
lesson. But there’s been one or two nice girls he really liked and Mary
just blocked it every time. She told me so herself—told me she went to
the Bible—she’s always ‘going to the Bible,’ you know—and turned up a
verse, and every time it was a warning against Alden getting married.
I’ve no patience with her and her odd ways. Why can’t she go to church
and be a decent creature like the rest of us in Lancaster? But no, she
must set up a religion for herself, consisting of ‘going to the Bible.’
Last fall, when that valuable horse took sick—worth four hundred if he
was a dollar—instead of sending for the Clancy vet. as we all begged
her to do she ‘went to the Bible’—and turned up a verse, ‘The Lord gave
and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.’ So send for
the vet. she would not—and the horse died. Fancy applying that verse in
such a way! I call it irreverent.”

* * * * *

Mrs. Churchill paused, being rather out of breath. Her sister-in-law’s
vagaries always made her impatient.

“Alden isn’t much like his mother,” said Mrs. Burnham.

“Alden’s like his father—a finer man never stepped. Why he ever married
Mary was something we could never fathom. Of course, she had lots of
money but _that_ wasn’t the reason. George was really in love with her.
I don’t know how Alden stands his mother’s whims. _He_ rather plumes
himself on his liberal views—believes in evolution and that sort of
stuff. Going, are you? What’s your hurry?”

“Well,” sighed Mrs. Burnham. “I find that if I’m out in the dew much my
neuralgia troubles me considerable. We’re getting old, Ellen.”

“To be sure we are,” agreed Mrs. Churchill. “_My_ rheumatism takes hold
this spring, too, if I’m not mighty careful. Good-night—mind the step.”