In light of the fact that today is the first of April, I thought I’d share with you “Cynthia’s” account of being April fooled, appearing in “Around the Table,” L.M. Montgomery’s newspaper column, which she published in the Halifax Daily Echo from September 1901 to May 1902.
Did you get April fooled last week? At our house we all arose on April’s birth morning with a grim determination not to believe a word that our best friends said to us or tamper with anything that looked suspicious the whole day through. And yet, the sorrowful fact remains that—I blush to admit it—I fell into the very first trap with grace and agility.
When I went downstairs Ted was in the hall looking over a morning paper with a very shocked face.
“Cynthia,” he said, with a shudder—oh, it was very well done. In justice to myself I must say that—“this is frightful. There has been a terrible accident up at the north end—nine lives lost.”
“Oh,” I gasped, feeling a dozen thrills of horror. “Oh, Ted, what happened?”
“A street car ran over a cat,” said Ted solemnly.
And there I was! If it had even been a new joke there would have been some excuse for me. But it is old—so old! Why, it has been going the rounds of the funny columns for years.
Well, I tried to take it meekly and all through breakfast I brooded over my revenge. When Ted started to go down town I called to him and asked him if he would mind doing an errand for me. He said no, of course not. So I wrote out a memorandum and told him to get me three yards of sparrowbill purple ribbon.
“Be very careful to get sparrowbill,” I said. “No other shade of purple will do. I want it to match my new suit. I daresay they won’t have it at all the stores. It’s a new shade.”
“I’ll hunt around until I get it,” said Ted so obligingly that I felt a slight pang of remorse—until I remembered that hideous joke.
When Ted came home at night he looked as if he were suffering from that tired feeling.
“I couldn’t get that fiendish shade of ribbon you wanted, Cynthia,” he said wearily. “I’ve been to every dry goods store in Halifax and the clerks all looked at me as if they thought I was crazy. Said they’d never heard of sparrowbill purple.”
“No more did I,” I said maliciously. “You shouldn’t go gunning for new shades on the first of April, Teddy-boy.”
Ted, not being dull of comprehension, understood. He grinned.
“Guess we are square,” he said frankly.
The full text of “Around the Table” appears in A Name for Herself: Selected Writings, 1891–1917, available from the publisher or from your favourite bookseller.