Over the next few weeks, whenever Miss Gordon asked Maud about the assignments, she changed the subject, ignoring the teacher’s disappointed expression.
While she continued to help Miss Gordon, Maud spent her weekends in October visiting her father’s family in Park Corner and attending Uncle Cuthbert’s wedding. It was lovely connecting with her Montgomery cousins. While she was there, Grandpa Montgomery had reminded her about her travel essay. Maud had worked on it some, but when she returned to Cavendish, she finished it and was feeling quite jubilant over sending “From Prince Albert to P.E. Island” to the Charlottetown Patriot. She felt that it was rather good, with lush descriptions of the Canadian landscape.
Then, halfway through October, Mrs. Spurr caught Maud on the way out of the Cavendish Hall. Her organ teacher still looked the same, with her gray eyes that reminded Maud too much of Nate’s. After exchanging formal greetings, Mrs. Spurr asked Maud to come for tea. On one hand, there was no way she could have politely declined, and on the other, she was very curious about what her old teacher could possibly have to say to her.
It was a golden November morning when Maud took the familiar path through the Haunted Woods for her visit to Mrs. Spurr. Maud stopped at the road, looking back over the well-traveled path behind her. It felt so familiar cutting through Lover’s Lane to Cavendish Road, up the steep hill to the Baptist minister’s gray-bricked manse, which—despite her bittersweet parting from Nate—welcomed her.
Mrs. Spurr brought Maud into the familiar parlor, where she half expected to find Nate sitting in his favorite chair reading a book and waiting to walk her home. Mrs. Spurr was wearing a dark woven skirt and a lace blouse with very fine stitching along the neck and wrists. Most Baptist minister’s wives were dowdy in comparison to her old organ teacher, who always added a bit of tasteful finery to what she wore.
As Mrs. Spurr gracefully moved around pouring the tea, she asked Maud all the typical questions about her year in Prince Albert. By now, Maud had well-rehearsed answers, often referring to her essay about Saskatchewan, “A Western Eden.” She carefully avoided mentioning Mr. Mustard or Will because this often led to questions about romance. That was the last thing she needed. Not when she was trying to prove to Grandfather how serious she was about school.
When Maud and Mrs. Spurr had settled themselves in front of a warm, friendly fire and had drunk enough tea, Mrs. Spurr began to talk about Nate and how well his studies were going at Acadia: he was top of his class and president of the sophomore class. The chair dug into Maud’s back. And it was difficult balancing the saucer in one hand, and the teacup in the other. Placing them carefully down on the dark wooden table, she picked up a ginger snap, delicately chewing each bite.
When Maud was through her third ginger snap, Mrs. Spurr went over to the mantel, picked up a photograph, and brought it over. “He had this photograph done in Halifax this past spring.” She handed it to Maud. “Isn’t it well-taken?”
Maud stared at the image of the first boy who had told her he loved her. His haircut made his ears stick out, something she still found endearing; the memory made her smile. He wasn’t smiling, though. There was an air of confidence she didn’t like one bit.
“Yes, it is well-taken,” Maud lied, and placed it on the table beside them.
“It’s so important for a boy to get a good education,” Mrs. Spurr said. “It sets him out into the world on the right foot.”
It was important for a woman to get one too, Maud thought to herself.
“I think if a person can prepare himself through education and good service, he will make a good show of it,” Mrs. Spurr continued, and then took a sip of tea. “I couldn’t ask better for Nate. My husband has indeed been generous.”
Maud couldn’t help thinking that Mrs. Montgomery could have taken a lesson or two from Reverend Spurr.
“He’s very fortunate,” Maud said.
“Weren’t you continuing your studies in Prince Albert?” Mrs. Spurr said. “You were one of the top scholars here in Cavendish.”
“That’s kind of you to say. I was merely adequate—especially at the organ,” Maud said.
Mrs. Spurr laughed. “In truth, you were more than adequate—if I could get you to focus. Oh, don’t give me that horrified look. I was a young girl too, once.” She took a sip of tea. “Never tell my son this, but I think you were good for Nate.”
Maud would never admit it, but he had been good for her too.
“You inspired him to take his studies a little more seriously. And you also got him interested in my brother-in-law Pastor Felix, the writer.”
“I do admire his work,” Maud said, and took another bite of ginger snap.
“Do you?” Mrs. Spurr leaned back in her chair. “Would you perhaps be interested in speaking with him? I shall write him on your behalf.”
“Oh, that isn’t necessary, Mrs. Spurr.” What if he never wrote back? “I’m sure he is very busy.”
“Ridiculous. He’s family and will certainly respond if I ask him to.” The gesture was so kind, so genuine. Maud turned to the fire in an effort to stop her eyes prickling. When she composed herself, she said, “I must ask: Why are you being so kind, after—”
“After things went a bit sour between you and my son?”
Maud was mortified. Of course Mrs. Spurr would have at least suspected what happened.
“When Nate’s father died, I didn’t have money of my own. As you know, he was lost at sea.” Mrs. Spurr’s somber expression told Maud how much her old organ teacher had loved Nate’s father. “It was certainly respectable for me to live with my parents, but after Nathaniel’s death, I needed to become more resourceful.”
“Is that when you started teaching?”
“I had been teaching before, but needed more work, so I asked Reverend Spurr to recommend me as a teacher for lessons. Little did I know He”—she pointed up—“had other plans.” She poured herself some more tea. “Do you mind if I give you a bit of unsolicited advice?”
“Of course not,” Maud said.
“If you reapplied yourself to learning the organ, I think you could be an organ teacher yourself.”
“Really?” It was something she had never considered.
“Yes,” Mrs. Spurr said. “You can make a nice living for yourself—as I did—until such time as you find a husband.”
While the tea tasted bitter at the mention of a husband, Maud knew that, unlike many of the women who had given her advice about marriage, Mrs. Spurr was being both kind and practical.
“It is a fine idea, Mrs. Spurr.” Maud remembered Grandfather’s thoughts on teaching. “But you know some people don’t hold the same philosophy about women teachers.”
“Think on it,” Mrs. Spurr said. “Just because people don’t share one’s philosophy doesn’t mean they cannot find some common ground.” She smiled. “Look at you and me.”