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Regrettably, however, some disputes linger and are never resolved. Often, it is nothing more than stubborn pride that maintains the detachment. In these cases, a small act of kindness can bridge the divide. To begin the New Year on an encouraging note, here's Uncle Richard's New Year Dinner by Lucy Maud Montgomery. Prissy Baker was in Oscar Miller's store New Year's morning buying matches, for New Year's was not kept as a business holiday in Quincy when her uncle, Richard Baker, came in. He did not look at Prissy, nor did she wish him a Happy New Year. She would not have dared. Uncle Richard had not been on speaking terms with her or her father, his only brother, for eight years. He was a big, ruddy, prosperous-looking man, an uncle to be proud of, Prissy thought wistfully, if only he were like other people's uncles, or indeed, like what he used to be himself. He was the only uncle Prissy had, and when she had been a little girl, they had been great friends. But that was before the quarrel, in which Prissy had had no share, to be sure, although Uncle Richard seemed to include her in his rancor. Richard Baker, so he informed Mr. Miller, was on his way to Navarre with a load of pork. I didn't intend going over until the afternoon, he said, but Joe Hemmings sent word yesterday he wouldn be buying pork after twelve today so I have to tote my hogs over at once I don care about doing business New Year morning Should think New Year would be pretty much the same as any other day to you said Mr Miller for Richard Baker was a bachelor with only old Mrs Janeway to keep house for him Well, I like a good dinner on New Year's, said Richard Baker. It's about the only way I can celebrate. Mrs. Janeway wanted to spend the day with her son's family over at Oriental, so I was laying out to cook my own dinner. I got everything ready in the pantry last night, for I got word about the pork. I won't be able to get back from Navarre before one o'clock, so I reckon I'll have to put up with a cold bite. After her Uncle Richard had driven away, Prissy walked thoughtfully home. She had planned to spend a nice, lazy holiday with the new book her father had given her at Christmas and a box of candy. She did not even mean to cook a dinner, for her father had to go to town that morning to meet a friend and would be gone the whole day. There was nobody else to cook dinner for. Prissy's mother had died when Prissy was a baby. She was her father's housekeeper, and they had jolly times together. But as she walked home, she could not help thinking about Uncle Richard. He would certainly have cold New Year cheer, enough to chill the whole coming year. She felt sorry for him, picturing him returning home from Navarre cold and hungry to find a fireless house and an uncooked dinner in the pantry. Suddenly an idea popped into Prissy's head. Dared she? Oh, she never could. But he would never know. There would be plenty of time. She would. Prissy hurried home, put her matches away, took a regretful peep at her unopened book, then locked the door and started up the road to Uncle Richard's house, half a mile away. She meant to go and cook Uncle Richard's dinner for him, get it all beautifully ready, then slip away before he came home. He would never suspect her of it. Prissy would not have him suspect for the world. She thought he would be more likely to throw a dinner of her cooking out of doors than to eat it. Eight years before this, when Prissy had been only nine years old, Richard and Irving Baker had quarreled over the division of a piece of property. The fault had been mainly on Richard's side, and that very fact made him all the more unrelenting and stubborn. He had never spoken to his brother since, and he declared he never would. Prissy and her father felt badly over it, but Uncle Richard did not seem to feel badly at all. To all appearance, he had completely forgotten that there were such people in the world as his brother Irving and his niece Prissy. Prissy had no trouble in breaking into Uncle Richard's house, for the woodshed door was unfastened. She tripped into the hostile kitchen with rosy cheeks and mischief sparkling in her eyes. This was an adventure. This was fun. She would tell her father all about it when he came home at night, and what a laugh they would have. There was still a good fire in the stove, and in the pantry Prissy found the dinner in its raw state. A fine roast of fresh pork, potatoes, cabbage, turnips, and the ingredients of a raisin pudding. For Richard Baker was fond of raisin puddings and could make them as well as Mrs Janeway could if that was anything to boast of In a short time the kitchen was full of bubbling and hissing and appetizing odors. Prissy enjoyed herself hugely, and the raisin pudding, which she rather doubtfully mixed up, behaved itself beautifully. Uncle Richard said he'd be home by one, said Prissy to herself as the clock struck twelve. So I'll set the table now, dish up the dinner, and leave it where it will keep warm until he gets here. Then I'll slip away home. I'd like to see his face when he steps in. I suppose he'll think one of the Jenner girls across the street has cooked his dinner. Prissy soon had the table set, and she was just peppering the turnips when a gruff voice behind her said, Well, well, what does this mean? Prissy whirled around as if she'd been shot, and there stood Uncle Richard in the woodshed door. Poor Prissy. She could not have looked or felt more guilty if Uncle Richard had caught her robbing his desk. She did not drop the turnips for a wonder, but she was too confused to set them down, so she stood there holding them, her face crimson, her heart thumping, and a horrible choking in her throat. I came up to cook your dinner for you, Uncle Richard, she stammered. I heard you say in the store that Mrs. Janeway had gone home and that you had nobody to cook your New Year's dinner for you, so I thought I'd come and do it, but I meant to slip away before you came home. Poor Prissy felt that she would never get to the end of her explanation. Would Uncle Richard be angry? Would he order her from the house? It was very kind of you, said Uncle Richard dryly. It's a wonder your father let you come. Father was not home, but I am sure he would not have prevented me if he had been. Father has no hard feelings against you, Uncle Richard. Hmph, said Uncle Richard. Well, since you cooked the dinner, you must stop and help me eat it. It smells good, I must say. Mrs. Janeway always burns pork when she roasts it. Sit down, Brissy. I'm hungry. They sat down. Prissy felt quite giddy and breathless, and could hardly eat for excitement. But Uncle Richard had evidently brought home a good appetite from Navarre, and he did full justice to his New Year's dinner. He talked to Prissy, too, quite kindly and politely. And when the meal was over, he said slowly, I'm much obliged to you, Prissy, and I don't mind owning to you that I'm sorry for my share in the quarrel. "'and have wanted for a long time to be friends with your father again, "'but I was too ashamed and proud to make the first advance. "'You can tell him so for me if you like, "'and if he's willing to let bygones be bygones, "'tell him I'd like him to come up here with you tonight "'when he gets home and spend the evening with me.' "'Oh, he will come, I know!' cried Prissy joyfully. "'He has felt so badly about not being friendly with you, Uncle Richard. "'I'm as glad as can be. prissy ran impulsively around the table and kissed uncle richard he looked up at his tall girlish niece with a smile of pleasure You a good girl Prissy You're a good girl, Prissy, and a kind-hearted one, too. Or you'd have never come up here to cook a dinner for a crabbed old uncle who deserved to eat cold dinners for his stubbornness. It made me cross today when folks wish me a happy new year. It seemed like mockery when I hadn't a soul belonging to me to make it happy. But it has brought me happiness already, and I believe it will be a happy year all the way through. Indeed it will, laughed Prissy. I am so happy now I could sing. I believe it was an inspiration, my idea coming here to cook your dinner for you. You must promise to come back and cook my New Year's dinner for me every new year we live near enough together, said Uncle Richard. And Prissy promised. Best known for her popular book, Anne of Green Gables, Lucy Maud Montgomery was a prolific author of 20 novels and over 1,000 short stories and poems. After the death of her mother at an early age, she spent much of her childhood alone in the care of her grandparents. It was this alone time that she credited for her ability to create believable characters. Haunted by depression for much of her life, some believe her death in 1942 at age 67 was a suicide. But her work lives eternally. Thanks so much for listening. If you like what you hear, please leave a 5-star review on Apple Podcasts or a 5-star rating on Spotify. And if you love short stories, check out all of our short story podcasts at shortstoryverses.com. Thanks again for listening. I'm Don McDonald. Thanks for listening. I hope you enjoyed the story. If you like being accompanied by short stories now and then, I invite you to check out my many universes of classic and original short stories at shortstoryverses.com. And if you get a chance, please share Seasons Readings with a friend, either personally or through social media. And while you're here, I'd really appreciate a five-star rating or review. If you celebrate Christmas, Merry Christmas and warm wishes for the season. I'm Don McDonald.
