The Wedding Quilt – Episode 41

That afternoon Beasie bitterly regretted having teased the spoiled visitor from Toronto, for when Paddy arrived to take her driving she was quickly upstaged by Stella.

“Oh, can’t I come?” the girl simpered, addressing her plea to Paddy rather than Beasie. “Do say you’ll take me. Don’t leave me here all on my own. That would be just too cruel!”

Beasie waited for Paddy to explain that he was committed to her, but he seemed to be enjoying Stella’s posturing, grinning at her as she stared up at him from beneath her long eyelashes.

“You’d better not come dressed like that,” he said. “The mosquitoes will eat you alive. Can’t you cover yourself up?”

“Wait there. I won’t be a minute!” Stella assured him as she darted off.

Beasie frowned at Mamie, who shrugged, shaking her head slightly.

Beasie knew what that meant. Stella was a guest in their home and allowances had to be made. But they might have known what the girl had in mind, for why else had she gone upstairs, leaving them alone with the dirty dinner dishes, only to reappear dressed as if for a garden party?

That blue frock was pretty enough, but the church ladies had better not catch a glimpse of it or they’d be organising a bee to take down the hems of all her garments!

When Stella reappeared she scrambled into the buggy ahead of Beasie, making sure she would be sitting next to Paddy.

Fuming, Beasie clambered in after her. The roads had become rutted after the frost had left the ground and every time the buggy rocked or jolted Stella squealed and clung to Paddy, who seemed to be enjoying it.

Worst of all, the promised jaunt to Lookout Point did not materialise, because their delayed start had left them too short of time when they had to get back to greet their supper guests.

Beasie had meant to beg her mother to let Paddy join them, but now she changed her mind. She simply could not sit through a meal with Stella Foster flirting with him at the table.


Aware that it might be a wild goose chase, Donald Stewart took the train to Ararat.

The case seemed hopeless, but having come all this way he felt he owed it to himself to make one last effort to trace his Canadian kin before returning to Scotland. Besides, Robbie and Jessie were depending on him.

If he failed in the task he could still earn a comfortable living from the family firm, but the Clarks’ prospects looked bleak.

Robbie was deputising while he was away, but once he’d returned home there would be nothing for the man to do.

On arrival at Ararat he quickly established himself in the station hotel. It was a modest frame building, not a patch on the King Eddy, as Torontonians referred to the luxury accommodation he had just left, but that didn’t bother him. All he needed was a bed for the night.

The room he was allocated contained a bed, a chair and a washstand holding a plain china jug and basin. A row of hooks on the back of the door did duty as a wardrobe.

However, the sheets and towels were spotless, so what else could he want?

Having received directions to the local cemetery, Donald set off at once. The sky looked threatening and he was keen to get the job done before the heavens opened.

He soon found that the graveyard was the last resting place of people who had come here from Scotland and Ireland in the pioneer days, which was encouraging.

Many of the stones were beautifully carved, showing weeping willows, praying hands or open books.

Many tiny stones were adorned with sculptured lambs or little angels. He wished he knew the history of the families here for undoubtedly their stories were carved in stone.

His heart leapt when he came across what he had been hoping to find. Could it be?

Abigail Phillips

Abbie is the newest member of the fiction team at the "Friend." She loves how varied the role is - every day is different and there is always a new story to read. She is keen to work closely with established writers and discover new writers, too.