Disclaimer: The characters in this work belong to L. M. Montgomery, not to me. No profit is being made from this work of fanfiction.
"Teddy cut my initials and his together on the Monark of the Forest, but somebody has cut them out. I don't know whether it was Perry or Ilse."
~Emily of New Moon, Chapter 17, "Living Epistles"
It was one of those days in early spring that should have seemed almost perfect to a child, but the rebellious soul of Ilse Burnley would have no part in it. A mild altercation with Emily over whether or not it was permissible to dress Mike up in Aunt Laura's old bonnet had ensued that morning, with Ilse taking the affirmative and Emily defending her poor puss from the onslaught.
"Do you truly think that Mike would look appropriate in a bonnet?" Emily had asked in her most dignified and Murray-esque manner.
"Mike would look far more appropriate in a bonnet than most of the women in Blair Water church, you querulous egret," Ilse had retorted.
"How would you know?" Emily had asked in a bland tone. "You never go to church."
"Go jump in the pond!" had been Ilse's dignified response, as she spun on her heel and left the New Moon dairy where Emily had been finishing her morning chores.
"Perhaps you should take your own advice. It might cool you off a mite," Emily had suggested helpfully to Ilse's retreating back.
Ilse had ignored the remark and headed for Lofty John's bush, planning to relieve her feelings by pulling up the violets that delighted Emily by growing so thickly in their playhouse that they almost served as a carpet. Upon entering the bush, however, she was met by the most unwelcome sight of Perry Miller standing underneath the tree that Emily had named the Monarch of the Forest. He looked almost as irate as she was
"Will you look at that!" Perry snapped, glaring at the tree.
"It's a tree," Ilse said, unimpressed. "I've seen plenty of trees before. I've seen that tree before."
"It's that Teddy Kent," Perry went on in a tone that bore no good for the aforementioned Teddy Kent. "He knows that Emily's going to be my girl when we grow up."
"I don't believe that Emily knows that," Ilse said, borrowing Emily's dignified manner. "I didn't know that. And I certainly don't see what any of that has to do with this tree."
"Look at it then, why don't you," Perry said, stepping aside.
Ilse looked and saw that someone had been busy with a small pocket-knife on the trunk of the tree, where FK + EBS were carved very neatly and artistically.
"I'll knock his head off," Perry suggested violently.
"I'll help," said Ilse, still feeling out of temper about Emily and the cat. Besides, Teddy was her friend just as much as he was Emily's. What right had he to carve his initials with Emily's?
"I suppose I can't knock his head off for real—the Murrays might be mad at me then—'specially Emily. But," he continued on in a conspiratorial tone, "I'll tell you what I am going to do. I'm going to cut those initials out. Teddy Kent's not the only person who can go around cutting up trees."
"Let me do it," Ilse said quickly. This seemed a much better way of getting back at Emily than tearing up the violets—besides, Ilse had enjoyed having a purple carpet in their playhouse herself.
"You can help, I suppose," Perry said. "We'll both hold the knife and cut together." He dug his knife out of his ragged trouser pocket and placed it in Ilse's hand, putting his own hand over hers. "Carefully, now—don't cut yourself."
"Don't you hurt yourself," Ilse replied snappishly. She was suddenly aware of how close she was to Perry, and she felt herself begin to blush. Ilse was not accustomed to blushing, and she took refuge in sarcasm.
"Don't you think that for Stovepipe Town to aspire to a Murray of New Moon is aiming rather high?" she asked haughtily.
"It ain't that high," Perry said. He inspected their work and found it good. "Besides, I aim to be Premier of Canada some day. Is that high enough for you, Miss Ilse?"
"If you keep using 'ain't' you'll never get anywhere, you pulchritudinous eel," Ilse retorted, jerking her hand away from his and storming off. For the second time that morning, she found herself ending a conversation on a bad note.
No one was home when she reached her house, Dr. Burnley being out on a case, so Ilse tore up the stairs and into the garret, where she flopped down on an old sofa.
"The very idea of him thinking that he was anywhere near good enough for Emily! Besides, she's too dreamy for him—he needs someone with more snap to her. Someone like…"
Ilse slumped down and buried her head in the cushions. "Oh, blast…"
Author's Note: This plot bunny has been hopping around in my head ever since I read the quote at the beginning of the story and wondered if perhaps both Ilse and Perry had been responsible for the defacement of Teddy's carving.