Anne Of Green Gables | 9.5+ Hours Sleep | Complete, Part 1

Please enjoy this complete reading of the classic, much-beloved tale of 'Anne of Green Gables', about an 11-year-old orphan girl sent by mistake to the "wrong" household to live...and all of her adventures that unfold from there...

This is a long-form track for sleep, covering Chapters 1-19, the first half of the book (out of 38 Chapters total) and providing more than 9.5 hours of continual sleep story support...

"Anne of Green Gables" is a 1908 novel from Canadian author Lucy Maud Montgomery and was her most famous book - now considered a classic of children's literature!

Transcript

Hello there, Thank you so much for joining me for the beginning of this reading of Anne of Green Gables, A much beloved classic novel from 1908 from the Canadian author Lucy Maud Montgomery. This was her most popular book and is much beloved by people all around the world. So before we get into the book, Let's just take a moment here to really arrive to this moment now. Leaving behind whatever baggage from the day we might be bringing with us. Take a nice, Deep exhale. We can just relax now, Get ourselves comfortable, And enjoy Anne of Green Gables. Chapter one, Mrs. Rachel Lind is surprised. Mrs Rachel Lynde lived just where the Avonlea main road dipped down into a little hollow, Fringed with alders and ladies' eardrops, And traversed by a brook that had its source a way back in the woods of the old Cuthbert place. It was reputed to be an intricate, Headlong brook in its earlier course through those woods with dark secrets of pool and cascade. But by the time it reached Lind's Hollow, It was a quiet, Well-conducted little stream. For not even a brook could run past Mrs Rachel Lind's door without due regard for decency and decorum. It probably was conscious that Mrs. Rachel was sitting at her window, Keeping a sharp eye on everything that passed from brooks and children up, And that if she noticed anything odd or out of place, She would never rest until she had ferreted out the whys and wherefores their old. There are plenty of people in Avonlea and out of it who can attend closely to their neighbour's business by dint of neglecting their own. But Mrs Rachel Lind was one of those capable creatures who can manage their own concerns and those of other folks into the bargain. She was a notable housewife. Her work was always done, And well done. She ran the sewing circle, Helped run the Sunday school, And was the strongest prop of the Church Aid Society and Foreign Missions Auxiliary. Yet, With all this, Mrs. Rachel found abundant time to sit for hours at her kitchen window knitting cotton warp quilts. She had knitted 16 of them, As Avonlea housekeepers were wont to tell in awed voices. And keeping a sharp eye on the main road that crossed the hollow and wound up the steep red hill beyond. Since Avonlea occupied a little triangular peninsula jutting out into the Gulf of St Lawrence with water on two sides of it, Anybody who went out of it or into it had to pass over that hill road and so run the unseen gauntlet of Mrs Rachel's all-seeing eye. She was sitting there one afternoon in early June. The sun was coming in at the window, Warm and bright. The orchard on the slope below the house. Was in a bridal flush of pinky-white bloom, Hummed over by a myriad of bees. Thomas Linde, A meek little man whom Avonlea people called Rachel Linde's husband, Was sowing his late turnip seed on the hill field beyond the barn. And Matthew Cuthbert ought to have been sewing his on the big red brook field away over by Green Gables. Mrs. Rachel knew that he ought because she had heard him tell Peter Morrison the evening before in William J. Blair's store over at Carmody that he meant to sew his turnip seed the next afternoon. Peter had asked him, Of course, For Matthew Cuthbert had never been known to volunteer information about anything in his whole life. And yet, Here was Matthew Cuthbert, At half past three, On the afternoon of a busy day, Placidly driving over the hollow and up the hill. Moreover, He wore a white collar and his best suit of clothes. Which was plain proof that he was going out of Avonlea. And he had the buggy and the sorrel mare. Which betokened that he was going a considerable distance. Now. Where was Matthew Cuthbert going and why was he going there? Had it been any other man in Avonlea, Mrs Rachel, Deftly putting this and that together, Might have given a pretty good guess as to both questions. But Matthew so rarely went from home that It must be something pressing and unusual which was taking him. He was the shyest man alive and hated to have to go among strangers or to any place where he might have to talk. Matthew, Dressed up with a white collar and driving in a buggy. Something that didn't happen often. Mrs Rachel, Ponder as she might, Could make nothing of it. And her afternoon's enjoyment was spoiled. I'll just step over to Green Gables after tea and find out from Marilla where he's gone and why. " The worthy woman finally concluded. He doesn't generally go to town this time of year. And he never visits. If he'd run out of turnip seed, He wouldn't dress up and take the buggy to go for more. He wasn't driving fast enough to be going for a doctor. Yet something must have happened since last night to start him off. I'm clean puzzled, That's what. And I won't know a minute's peace of mind or conscience until I know what has taken Matthew Cuthbert out of Avonlea today. Accordingly, After tea, Mrs Rachel set out. She had not far to go. The big, Rambling, Orchard-empowered house where the Cuthberts lived was a scant quarter of a mile up the road from Lynn's Hollow. To be sure, The long lane made it a good deal further. Matthew Cuthbert's father, As shy and silent as his son after him, Had got as far away as he possibly could from his fellow men without actually retreating into the woods when he founded his homestead. Green Gables was built at the furthest edge of his cleared land, And there it was to this day. Barely visible from the main road along which all the other Avonlea houses were so sociably situated. Mrs Rachel Lynde did not call living in such a place living at all. It's just staying, That's what she said as she stepped along the deep-rutted grassy lane bordered with wild rose bushes. It's no wonder Matthew and Marilla are both a little odd living away back here by themselves. Trees aren't much company, Though dear knows if they were, There'd be enough of them. I'd rather look at people. To be sure, They seem contented enough, But then I suppose they're used to it. A body can get used to anything, Even to being hanged, As the Irishman said. With this, Mrs Rachel stepped out of the lane into the backyard of Green Gables. Very green and neat and precise was that yard, Set about on one side with great patriarchal willows, And the other with prim lombardis. Not a stray stick nor stone was to be seen. For Mrs Rachel would have seen it if there had been. Privately, She was of the opinion that Marilla Cuthbert swept that yard over as often as she swept her house. One could have eaten a meal off the ground without over brimming the proverbial peck of dirt. Mrs Rachel rapped smartly at the kitchen door, And stepped in when bidden to do so. The kitchen at Green Gables was a cheerful apartment, Or would have been cheerful if it had not been so painfully clean as to give it something of the appearance of an unused parlour. Its windows looked east and west. Through the west one, Looking out on the backyard, Came a flood of mellow June sunlight. But the east one, Whence you got a glimpse of the bloom-white cherry trees in the left orchard, And nodding slender birches down in the hollow by the brook, Was greened over by a tangle of vines Here sat Marilla Cuthbert when she sat at all, Always slightly distrustful of sunshine, Which seemed to her too dancing and irresponsible a thing for a world which was meant to be taken seriously. And here she sat now, Knitting, And the table behind her was laid for supper. Mrs. Rachel, Before she had fairly closed the door, Had taken a mental note of everything that was on that table. There were three plates laid, So that Marilla must be expecting someone home with Matthew to tea, But the dishes were everyday dishes. And there was only crab apple preserves and one kind of cake. So that the expected company could not be any particular company. Yet what of Matthew's white collar? And the sorrel mare. Mrs Rachel was getting fairly dizzy with this unusual mystery about quiet, Unmysterious green gables. Good evening Rachel, Marilla said briskly. This is a real fine evening, Isn't it? Won't you sit down? How are all your folks? Something that, For lack of any other name, Might be called friendship? Existed and always had existed between Marilla Cuthbert and Mrs Rachel, In spite of, Or perhaps because of, Their dissimilarity. Marilla was a tall, Thin woman with angles and without curves. Her dark hair showed some grey streaks and was always twisted up in a hard little knot behind, With two wire hairpins stuck aggressively through it. She looked like a woman of narrow experience and rigid conscience. Which she was, But there was a saving something about her mouth which, If it had been ever so slightly developed, Might have been considered indicative of a sense of humour. We're all pretty well said mrs rachel i was kind of afraid you weren't though when i saw matthew starting off today i thought maybe he was going to the doctors Marilla's lips twitched understandingly. She had expected Mrs Rachel up. She had known that the sight of Matthew jaunting off so unaccountably would be too much for her neighbour's curiosity. Oh no, I'm quite well. Although I had a bad headache yesterday, She said. Matthew went to Bright River. We're getting a little boy from an orphan asylum in Nova Scotia, And he's coming on the train tonight. If Marilla had said that Matthew had gone to Bright River to meet a kangaroo from Australia, Mrs Rachel could not have been more astonished. She was actually stricken dumb. For five seconds. It was unsupposable that Marilla was making fun of her, But. . . Mrs Rachel was almost forced to suppose it. Are you in earnest, Marilla? " she demanded, When voice returned to her. Yes, Of course, Said Marilla, As if getting boys from orphan asylums in Nova Scotia were part of the usual spring work of any well-regulated Avonlea farm. Instead of being an unheard of innovation. Mrs Rachel felt that she had received a severe mental jolt. She thought in exclamation points, Marilla and Matthew Cuthbert of all people. Adopting a boy? Orphan asylum? Wow. The world was certainly turning upside down. She would be surprised at that. Nothing after this. Nothing. What on earth put such a notion into your head? She demanded disapprovingly. This had been done without her advice being asked. And must perforce be disapproved. Well, We've been thinking about it for some time. All winter, In fact, Returned Marilla. Mrs Alexander Spencer was up here one day before Christmas and she said she was going to get a little girl from the asylum over in Hopeton in the spring. Her cousin lives there and Mrs Spencer has visited here and knows all about it. So, Matthew and I have talked it over, Off and on, Ever since. We thought we'd get a boy. Matthew is getting up in years, You know, He's sixty, And he isn't so spry as he once was. His heart troubles him a good deal. And you know how desperate hard it's got to be to get hired help. There's never anybody to be had but those who are. Stupid, Half-grown little French boys. And as soon as you do get one broken to your ways and taught something, He's up and off to the lobster canneries or the States. At first, Matthew suggested getting a homeboy, But I said no flat to that. They may be alright, I'm not saying they're not, But no London street Arabs for me, I said. Give me a native-born at least. There'll be a risk no matter who we get, But I'll feel easier in my mind and sleep soundly. At night if we get a born Canadian. So, In the end, We decided to ask Mrs Spencer to pick us out one when she went over to get her little girl. We heard last week she was going, So we sent her word by Richard Spencer's folks at Carmody to bring us a smart, Likely boy of about 10 or 11. We decided that would be the best age. Old enough. To be of some use in doing chores right off and young enough to be trained up proper. We mean to give him a good home and schooling. We had a telegram from Mrs Alexander Spencer today. The mailman brought it from the station, Saying they were coming on the 5. 30 train tonight. So Matthew went to Bright River to meet him. Mrs Spencer will drop him off there. Of course, She goes on to White Sands station herself. Mrs Rachel prided herself on always speaking her mind. She proceeded to speak it now, Having adjusted her mental attitude to this amazing piece of news. Well, Marilla, I'll just tell you plain that I think you're doing a mighty foolish thing. A risky thing, That's what. You don't know what you're getting. You're bringing a strange child into your house and home and you don't know a single thing about him. Nor what his disposition is like, Nor what sort of parents he had. Nor how he's likely to turn out. Why, It was only last week I read in the paper how a man and his wife, Up west of the island, Took a boy out of an orphan asylum and he set fire to the house at night. Set it on purpose, Marilla. And nearly burnt them to a crisp in their beds. And I know another case where an adopted boy used to suck the eggs. They couldn't break him of it. If you had asked my advice in the matter? Which you didn't do, Marilla, I'd have said, For mercy's sake, Not to think of such a thing. That's what. This job's comforting seemed neither to offend nor to alarm Marilla. She knitted steadily on. I don't deny there's something in what you say, Rachel. I've had some qualms myself, But Matthew was terrible set on it. I could see that, So I gave in. It's so seldom Matthew sets his mind on anything that when he does, I always feel. . . It's my duty to give in. And as for the risk, There's risks in pretty near everything a body does in this world. There's risks in people's having children of their own. If it comes to that, They don't always turn out well. And then Nova Scotia is right close to the island. It isn't as if we were getting him from England or the States. We can't be much different from ourselves. Well i hope it will turn out all right said mrs rachel in a tone that plainly indicated her painful doubts only don't say i didn't warn you if he burns green gables down or puts stricken in in the well i heard of a case over in new brunswick where an orphan asylum child did that, And the whole family died in fearful agonies. Only it was a girl in that instance. Well we're not getting a girl said marilla as if poisoning wells were a purely feminine accomplishment and not to be dreaded in the case of a boy i'd never dream of taking a girl to bring up I wonder at Mrs Alexander Spencer for doing it, But there she wouldn't shrink from adopting a whole orphan asylum if she took it into her head. Mrs Rachel would have liked to stay until Matthew came home with his imported orphan, But reflecting that it would be a good two hours at least before his arrival, She concluded to go up the road to Robert Bell's and tell the news it would certainly make a sensation second to none. And Mrs Rachel dearly loved to make a sensation. So she took herself away, Somewhat to Marilla's relief, For the latter felt her doubts and fears reviving under the influence of Mrs Rachel's pessimism. Well, Of all things that ever were or will be. Ejaculated Mrs. Rachel. When she was safely out in the lane. It does really seem as if I must be dreaming. Well, I'm sorry for that poor young one. And no mistake. Matthew and Marilla. I don't know anything about children. And they'll expect him to be wiser and steadier than his own grandfather. If so be's he ever had a grandfather, Which is doubtful. It seems uncanny to think of a child at Green Gable somehow. There's never been one there. Matthew and Marilla were grown up when the new house was built. If they ever were children, Which is hard to believe when one looks at them. I wouldn't be in that orphan's shoes for anything. My, But I pity him, That's what. So said Mrs Rachel to the wild rose-bushes out of the fullness of her heart. But if she could have seen the child who was waiting patiently at the Bright River Station at that very moment, Her pity would have been still deeper and more profound. Chapter 2 Matthew Cuthbert is surprised. Matthew Cuthbert and the Sorrel mare jogged comfortably over the eight miles to Bright River. It was a pretty road, Running along between snug farmsteads, With now and again a bit of balsam-y fir wood to drive through, Or a hollow where wild plums hung out their filmy bloom. The air was sweet, With the breath of many apple orchards, The meadows sloped away in the distance to horizon mists of pearl and purple, While the little bird sang as if it were the one day of summer in all the year. Matthew enjoyed the drive after his own fashion, Except during the moments when he met women and had to nod to them. For in Prince Edward Island you are supposed to nod to all and sundry you meet on the road, Whether you know them or not. Matthew dreaded all women. Except Marilla and Mrs. Rachel. He had an uncomfortable feeling that the mysterious creatures were secretly laughing at him. He may have been quite right in thinking so, For He was an odd-looking personage. With an ungainly figure and long iron grey hair that touched his stooping shoulders, And a full soft brown beard which he had worn ever since he was 20. In fact, He had looked at 20 very much as he looked at 60, Lacking a little of the greyness. When he reached Bright River, There was no sign of any train. He thought he was too early, So he tied his horse in the yard of the small Bright River Hotel and went over to the station house. The long platform was almost deserted, The only living creature in sight being a girl who was sitting on a pile of shingles at the extreme end. Matthew, Barely noting that it was a girl, Sidled past her as quickly as possible without looking at her. Had he looked, He could hardly have failed to notice the tense rigidity and expectation of her attitude and expression. She was sitting there waiting for something or somebody and since sitting and waiting was the only thing to do just then, She sat and waited with all her might and mane. Matthew encountered the Station Master. Locking up the ticket office, Preparatory to going home for supper. And asked him if the 5. 30 train would soon be along. 5. 30 train has been in and gone half an hour ago, " answered that brisk official. But there was a passenger dropped off for you, A little girl. She's sitting out there on the shingles. I asked her to go into the lady's waiting room but she informed me gravely that she preferred to stay outside. There was more scope for imagination, She said. She's a case, I should say. I'm. . . Not expecting a girl, " said Matthew blankly. It's a boy I've come for. He should be here. Mrs. Alexander Spencer was to bring him over from Nova Scotia for me. The station master whistled. Guess there's some mistake, He said. Mrs. Spencer came off the train with that girl. Gave her into my charge, Said you and your sister were adopting her from an orphan asylum. And that you'd be along for her presently. That's all I know about it. And I haven't got any more orphans concealed hereabouts. I. . . Don't understand, " said Matthew helplessly, Wishing that Marilla was at hand to cope with the situation. Well you'd better question the girl said the station master carelessly i dare say she'll be able to explain she's got a tongue of her own that's certain maybe they were out of boys of the brand you wanted He walked jauntily away, Being hungry, And the unfortunate Matthew. . . Was left to do that which was harder for him bearding a lion in its den, Walk up. To a girl, A strange girl, An orphan girl. And demand of her why she wasn't a boy. Matthew groaned in spirit as he turned about and shuffled gently down the platform towards her. She had been watching him ever since he had passed her, And she had her eyes on him now. Matthew was not looking at her, And would not have seen what she was really like if he had been, But an ordinary observer would have seen this. A child of about 11, Garbed in a very short, Very tight, Very ugly dress of yellowish-gray wincy, She wore a faded brown sailor hat, And beneath the hat, Extending down her back, Were two braids of very thick, Decidedly red hair. Her face was small, White and thin, Also much freckled. Her mouth was large, And so were her eyes, Which looked green in some lights and moods, And grey in others. So far, The ordinary observer. An extraordinary observer might have seen that the chin was very pointed, And pronounced. That the big eyes were full of spirit and vivacity. That the mouth was sweet-lipped and expressive. That the forehead was broad and full. In short, Our discerning, Extraordinary observer might have concluded that no commonplace soul inhabited the body of this stray woman-child, Of whom shy Matthew Cuthbert was so ludicrously afraid. Matthew, However, Was spared the ordeal of speaking first, For as soon as she concluded that he was coming to her, She stood up, Grasping with one thin brown hand the handle of a shabby old-fashioned carpet bag, The other she held out to him. I suppose you are Mr. Matthew Cuthbert of Green Gables, " she said in a peculiarly clear, Sweet voice. I'm very glad to see you. I was beginning to be afraid you weren't coming for me. And I was imagining all the things that might have happened to prevent you. I had made up my mind that if you didn't come for me tonight, I'd go down the track to that big wild cherry tree at the bend and climb up into it to stay all night. I wouldn't be a bit afraid. And it would be lovely to sleep in a wild cherry tree, All white with bloom in the moonshine. Don't you think? You could imagine you were dwelling in marble halls, Couldn't you? And I was quite sure you would come for me in the morning if you didn't tonight. Matthew had taken the scrawny little hand awkwardly in his hand. Then and there, He decided what to do. He could not tell this child with the glowing eyes that there had been a mistake. He would take her home. And let Marilla do that. She couldn't be left at Bright River anyhow, No matter what mistake had been made. So, All questions and explanations. Might as well be deferred until he was safely back at Green Gables. I'm sorry I was late, He said shyly. Come along the horses over in the yard. Give me a bag. Oh, I can carry it, " the child responded cheerfully. It isn't heavy. I've got all my worldly goods in it, But it isn't heavy. And if it isn't carried in just a certain way, The handle pulls out. So I'd better keep it because I know the exact knack of it. It's an extremely old carpet bag. Oh, I'm very glad you've come. Even if it would have been nice to sleep in a wild cherry tree. We've got to drive a long piece, Haven't we? Mrs. Spencer said it was eight miles. I'm glad because I love driving. It seems so wonderful that I'm going to live with you and belong to you. I've never belonged to anybody. Not really. But the asylum was the worst. I've only been in it four months, But that was enough. I don't suppose you ever were an orphan in an asylum, So You can't possibly understand what it is like. It's worse than anything you could imagine. Mrs Spencer said it was wicked of me to talk like that, But I didn't mean to be wicked. It's so easy to be wicked without knowing it, Isn't it? They were. . . Good, You know, The asylum people, But There's so little scope for the imagination in an asylum. Only just in the other orphans. It was pretty interesting to imagine things about them. To imagine that perhaps the girl who sat next to you was really the daughter of a belted earl who had been stolen away from her parents in her infancy by a cruel nurse who died before she could confess. I used to lie awake at night and imagine things like that because I didn't have time in the day. I guess that's why I'm so thin. I am dreadful thin, Ain't I? There isn't a pick on my bones. I do love to imagine I'm nice and plump with dimples in my elbows. With this, Matthew's companion stopped talking, Partly because she was out of breath and partly because they had reached the buggy. Not another word did she say until they had left the village, And were driving down a steep little hill, The road part of which had been cut so deeply into the soft soil that the banks, Fringed with blooming wild cherry trees and slim white birches, Were several feet above their heads. The child put out her hand and broke off a branch of wild plum that brushed against the side of the buggy. Thank you. Isn't that beautiful? What did that tree, Leaning out from the bank, All white and lacy, Make you think of? She asked. Well now. . . I don't know, " said Matthew. Why, A bride, Of course, A bride, All in white, With a lovely misty veil. I've never seen one, But I can imagine what she would look like. I don't ever expect to be a bride myself. I'm so homely, Nobody will ever want to marry me. Unless it might be a foreign missionary. I suppose a foreign missionary mightn't be very particular, But I do hope that someday I shall have a white dress. That is my highest ideal of earth-born. Bliss. I just love pretty clothes and I've never had a pretty dress in my life that I can remember. But of course, It's all the more to look forward to, Isn't it? And then I can imagine that I'm dressed gorgeously. This morning, When I left the asylum, I felt so ashamed. Because I had to wear this horrid old wincey dress. All the orphans had to wear them, You know. A merchant in Hopeton last winter donated 300 yards of wincy to the asylum. Some people said it was because he couldn't sell it, But I'd rather believe that it was out of the kindness of his heart, Wouldn't you? When we got on the train, I felt as if everybody must be looking at me and pitying me. But I just went to work and imagined that I had on the most beautiful pale blue silk dress. Because when you are imagining, You might as well imagine something worthwhile, And a big hat, All flowers and nodding plumes, And a gold watch, And kid gloves and boots. I felt cheered up right away. And I enjoyed my trip to the island with all my might. I wasn't a bit sick coming over in the boat. Neither was Mrs Spencer, Although she generally is. She said she hadn't time to get sick. Watching to see that I didn't fall overboard. She said she never saw the beat of me for prowling about. But if it kept her from being seasick, It's a mercy I did prowl, Isn't it? And I wanted to see everything there was to be seen on that boat because I didn't know whether I'd ever have another opportunity. Oh, There are a lot more cherry trees all in bloom. This island is the bloomiest place. I just love it already and I'm so glad I'm going to live here. I've always heard that Prince Edward Island was the prettiest place in the world. I used to imagine I was living here, But I. . . Ever really expected I would. It's delightful when your imaginations come true, Isn't it? But those red roads are so funny. When we got into the train at Charlottetown and the red roads began to flash past, I asked Mrs Spencer what made them red and she said she didn't know and for pity's sake not to ask her any more questions. She said I must have asked her a thousand already. I suppose I had too but How are you going to find out about things if you don't ask questions? What does make the roads red? Well now. . . I don't know, Said Matthew. Well, That is one of the things to find out sometime. Isn't it splendid to think of all the things there are to find out about? It just makes me feel glad to be alive. It's such an interesting world. It wouldn't be half so interesting if we know all about everything, Would it? There'd be no scope for imagination then, Would there? Am I talking too much? People are always telling me I do. Would you rather I didn't talk? If you say so, I'll stop. I can stop when I make up my mind to it, Although it's difficult. Matthew, Much to his own surprise, Was enjoying himself. Like most quiet folks, He liked talkative people when they were willing to do the talking themselves and did not expect him to keep up his end of it. But he had never expected to enjoy the society of a little girl. Women were bad enough in all conscience, But little girls were worse. He detested the way they had of sidling past him timidly with sidewise glances, As if they expected him to gobble them up at a mouthful if they ventured to say a word. That was the Avonlea type of well-bred little girl. But this freckled witch was very different. And although he found it rather difficult for his slower intelligence to keep up with her brisk mental processes, He thought that he kind of liked her chatter. So he said as shyly as usual oh You can talk as much as you like. I don't mind. Oh, I'm so glad. I know you and I are going to get along together fine. It's such a relief to talk when one wants to and not be told that children should be seen and not heard. I've had that said to me a million times if I have once. And people laugh at me because I use big words. But if you have big ideas, You have to use big words to express them, Haven't you? Well, Now? That seems reasonable, Said Matthew. Mrs Spencer said that my tongue must be hung in the middle. But it isn't. It's firmly fastened at one end. Mrs Spencer said your place was named Green Gables. I asked her all about it and she said there were trees all around it. I was gladder than ever. I just love trees. And there weren't any at all about the asylum. Only a few poor weeny teeny things out in front with little whitewashed cagey things about them. They just looked like orphans themselves, Those trees did. It used to make me want to cry to look at them. I used to say to them, Oh, You poor little things. If you were out in a great big woods with other trees all around you and little mosses and June bells growing over your roots and a brook not far away and birds singing in your branches, You could grow, Couldn't you? But you can't where you are. I know just exactly how you feel, Little trees. I felt sorry to leave them behind this morning. You do get so attached to things like that, Don't you? Is there a brook anywhere near Green Gables? I forgot to ask Mrs Spencer that. Well now, Yes. There's one right below the house. Fancy! It's always been one of my dreams to live near a brook. I never expected I would though. Dreams don't often come true, Do they? Wouldn't it be nice if they did? But just now, I feel pretty nearly perfectly happy. I can't feel exactly perfectly happy because, Well, What colour would you call this? She twitched one of her long, Glossy braids over her thin shoulder and held it up before Matthew's eyes. Matthew was not used to deciding on the tints of ladies' tresses. But in this case, There couldn't be much doubt. It's red ain't it he said the girl let the braid drop back with a sigh that seemed to come from her very toes and to exhale forth all the sorrows of the ages yes it's red she said resignedly now you see Why, I can't be perfectly happy. Nobody could who has red hair. I don't mind the other things so much, The freckles and the green eyes and my skinniness. I can imagine them away. I can imagine that I have a beautiful rose leaf complexion and lovely starry violet eyes, But I cannot imagine that red hair away. I do my best. I think to myself, Now my hair is a glory. Black, Black as the raven's wing. But all the time I know it is just plain red and it breaks my heart. It will be my lifelong sorrow. I read of a girl once in a novel who had a lifelong sorrow, But it wasn't red hair. Her hair was pure gold, Rippling back from her alabaster brow. What is an alabaster brow? I never could find out. Can you tell me? Well, Now. I'm afraid I can't, " said Matthew, Who was getting a little dizzy. He felt as he had once felt in his rash youth when another boy had enticed him on the merry-go-round at a picnic. Well, Whatever it was, It must have been something nice because she was divinely beautiful. Have you ever imagined what it must feel like to be divinely beautiful? Well, Now, No, I haven't, Confessed Matthew ingenuously. I have, Often. Which would you rather be if you had the choice, Divinely beautiful or divinely beautiful? Dazzlingly clever or angelically good. Well now, I. . . I don't know exactly. Neither do I. I can never decide, But it doesn't make much real difference, For it isn't likely I'll ever be either. It's certain I'll never be angelically good. Mrs. Spencer says, Oh, Mr. Cuthbert, Oh, Mr. Cuthbert, Mr. Cuthbert. That was not what Mrs Spencer had said. Neither had the child tumbled out of the buggy, Nor had Matthew done anything astonishing, They had simply rounded a curve in the road and found themselves in the avenue. The avenue, So called by the Newbridge people, Was a stretch of road, Four or five hundred yards long, Completely arched over with huge, Widespread apple trees, Planted years ago by an eccentric old farmer. Overhead was one long canopy of snowy, Fragrant bloom. Below the boughs the air was full of a purple twilight, And far ahead a glimpse of painted sunset sky shone like a great rose window at the end of a cathedral aisle. Its beauty seemed to strike the child dumb. She leant back in the buggy, Her thin hands clasped before her, Her face lifted rapturously to the white splendour above. Even when they had passed out and were driving down the long slope to Newbridge, She never moved or spoke. Still with rapt face, She gazed afar into the sunset west. With eyes that saw visions trooping splendidly across that glowing background. Through Newbridge, A bustling little village where dogs barked at them and small boys hooted and curious faces peered from the windows, They drove, Still in silence. When three more miles had dropped away behind them, The child had not spoken. She could keep silence. It was evident. As energetically as she could talk. I. . . Guess you're feeling pretty tired and hungry? " Matthew ventured to say at last, Accounting for her long visitation of dumbness with the only reason he could think of but we haven't very far to go now only another mile She came out of her reverie with a deep sigh. And looked at him with the dreamy gaze of a soul that has been wandering afar, Star-led. Oh. Mr. Cuthbert. She whispered. That place! We came through that door. White place. What was it? Well now? You must mean the avenue. Said Matthew after a few moments profound reflection. It is a kind of. . . Pretty place. Pretty. Pretty doesn't seem the right word to use. Nor beautiful either. They don't go far enough. Ugh. It was. Wonderful. Wonderful! It's the first thing I ever saw. That couldn't be improved upon by imagination. It just satisfies me here. She put one hand on her breast. It made a. . . Queer. Funny, Eh? And yet, It was a pleasant ache. Did you ever have an ache like that, Mr Cuthbert? Well, Now I. . . Just. . . Can't recollect that I ever had. I have it lots of time whenever I see anything royally beautiful. They shouldn't call that lovely place The Avenue. There is no meaning in a name like that. They should call it, Let me see, The White Way of Delight. Isn't that a nice imaginative name? When I don't like the name of a place or a person, I always imagine a new one. And always think of them, So there was a girl at the asylum whose name was Hepzibah Jenkins. But I always imagined her as Rosalia de Ver. Other people may call that place The Avenue, But I shall always call it The White Way of Delight. Have we really only another mile to go before we get home? I'm glad. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry because this drive has been so pleasant. And I'm always sorry when pleasant things end. Something still pleasanter may come after, But you can never be sure. And it's so often the case that it isn't pleasanter. That has been my experience anyhow, But I'm glad to think of getting home. You see, I've never had a real home. Since I can remember. It gives me that pleasant ache again. Just to think of coming to a really, Truly Home. Oh, Isn't that pretty? They had driven over the crest of a hill. Below them was a pond, Looking almost like a river, So long and winding was it. A bridge spanned it midway, And from there to its lower end, Where an amber-hued belt of sand-hills shut it in from the dark blue gulf beyond, The water was a glory of many shifting hues, The most spiritual shadings of crocus and rose and ethereal green, With other elusive tintings for which no name has ever been found. Above the bridge the pond ran up into fringing groves of fir and maple, And lay all darkly translucent in their wavering shadows. Here and there a wild plum lent out from the bank like a white-clad girl tiptoeing to her own reflection. From the marsh at the head of the pond came the clear, Mournfully sweet chorus of the frogs. There was a little grey house peering around a white apple orchard on a slope beyond, And, Although it was not yet quite dark, A light It was shining from one of its windows. I don't like that name either. I shall call it, Let me see, The Lake of Shining Waters. Yes, That is the right name for it. I know because of the thrill. When I hit on a name that suits exactly, It gives me a thrill. Do things ever give you a thrill? Matthew ruminated. Well now. . . Yes. It always kind of gives me a thrill to see them ugly white grubs that spade up in the cucumber beds. I hate the look of them. I don't think that can be exactly the same kind of thrill. Do you think it can? There doesn't seem to be much connection between grubs and lakes of shining waters, Does there? But why do other people call it Barry's Pond? I reckon because Mr. Barry lives up there in that house. Orchard Slopes, The name of his place. If it wasn't for that big bush behind it, You could see Green Gables from here. But we have to go over the bridge and round by the road, So it's near half a mile further. Has Mr Barry any little girls? Well, Not so very little either. About my size? He's got one, About 11. Her name is Diana. Oh! With a long in-drawing of breath, What a. . . Perfectly lovely name. Well now. I don't know. There's something dreadful, Heathen-ish about it. Seems to me. I'd rather Jane or Mary or some sensible name like that. But when Diana was born, There was a schoolmaster boarding there and they gave him the naming of her and he called her Diana I wish there had been a schoolmaster like that around when I was born then. Oh, Here we are at the bridge. I'm going to shut my eyes tight. I'm always afraid going over bridges. I can't help imagining that perhaps just as we get to the middle, They'll crumple up like a jackknife and nip us. So I shut my eyes, But I always have to open them for all when I think we're getting near the middle because you see, If the bridge did crumple up, I'd want to see it crumple. What a jolly rumble it makes. I always like the rumble part of it. Isn't it splendid? There are so many things to like in this world. There, We're over. Now, I'll look back. Good night, Dear lake of shining waters. I always say goodnight to the things I love, Just as I would to people. I think they like it. That water looks as if it was smiling at me. When they had driven up the further hill and around a corner, Matthew said, We're pretty near home now. That's Green Gable's over-" Oh, Don't tell me! She interrupted breathlessly, Catching at his partially raised arm and shutting her eyes that she might not see his gesture. Let me guess. I'm sure I'll guess right. She opened her eyes and looked about her. They were on the crest of a hill. The sun had set some time since, But the landscape was still clear in the mellow afterlight. To the west, A dark church spire rose up against a marigold sky. Below was a little valley, And beyond a long, Gently rising slope, With snug farmsteads scattered along it. From one to another, The child's eyes darted, Eager and wistful. At last they lingered on one away to the left, Far back from the road, Dimly white, With blossoming trees, In the twilight of the surrounding woods. Over it, In the stainless southwest sky, A great crystal white star was shining like a lamp of guidance and promise. That's it, Isn't it? " she said, Pointing. Matthew slapped the reins on the sorrel's back delightedly. Well now, You've guessed it. But I reckon Mrs Spencer described it, So you could tell. No, She didn't. Really? She didn't? All she said might just as well have been about most of those other places. I hadn't any real idea what it looked like, But just as soon as I saw it, I felt it was home. Oh, It seems as if I must be in a dream. Do you know my arm must be black and blue from the elbow up for I've pinched myself so many times today. Every little while a horrible sickening feeling would come over me and I'd be so afraid it was all a dream. Then I'd pinch myself to see if it was real until suddenly I remembered that even supposing it was only a dream, I'd better go on dreaming as long as I could. So I stopped pinching, But it is real. And we're nearly home. With a sigh of rapture, She relapsed into silence. Matthew stirred uneasily. He felt glad that it would be Marilla and not he who would have to tell this waif of the world that the home she longed for was not to be hers after all. They drove over Lynn's Hollow, Where it was already quite dark, But not so dark that Mrs Rachel could not see them from her window vantage. And up the hill and into the long lane of green gables. By the time they arrived at the house, Matthew was shrinking from the approaching revelation with an energy he did not understand. It was not of Marilla or himself he was thinking. Or of the trouble this mistake was probably going to make for them, But. . . Of the child's disappointment. When he thought of that rapt light being quenched in her eyes. He had an uncomfortable feeling. That he was going to assist at murdering something. Much the same feeling that came over him when he had to kill a lamb or calf or any other innocent little creature. The yard was quite dark as they turned into it, And the poplar leaves were rustling silkily all around it. Listen to the trees talking in their sleep. She whispered as he lifted her to the ground. What nice dreams they must have. Then, Holding tightly to the carpet bag, Which contained all her worldly goods, She followed him into the house. Chapter 3 Marilla Cuthbert is surprised. Marilla came briskly forward as Matthew opened the door. But when her eyes fell on the odd little figure in the stiff ugly dress with the long braids of red hair and the eager luminous eyes, She stopped short in amazement. Matthew Cuthbert. Who's that? She ejaculated. Where is the boy? There. "'Wasn't any boy, ' said Matthew wretchedly. "'There was only her, ' he nodded at the child, Remembering that he had never even asked her name. No? B O Y There must have been a boy, Insisted Marilla. We sent word to Mrs Spencer to bring a boy. Well. . . She didn't. She brought her. I asked the station master and I had to bring her home. She couldn't be left there, No matter where the mistake had come in. Well, This is a pretty piece of business, Ejaculated Marilla. During this dialogue, The child had remained silent. Her eyes roving from one to the other, All the animation fading out of her face. Suddenly, She seemed to grasp the full meaning of what had been said. Dropping her precious carpet bag, She sprang forward a step and clasped her hands You? Don't. "'Want me? ' she cried. " You don't want me. Because I'm not a boy. I might have expected it. Nobody ever did want me. I might have known it was all too beautiful to last. I might have known nobody really did want me. Oh. What shall I do? I'm going to burst into tears. Burst into tears, She did. Sitting down on a chair by the table, Flinging her arms out upon it and burying her face in them. She proceeded to cry stormily. Marilla and Matthew looked at each other deprecatingly across the stove. Neither of them knew what to say or do. Finally, Marilla stepped lamely into the breach. Well, Well, There's. . . No need to cry so about it. Yes, There is need. The child raised her head quickly, Revealing a tear-stained face and trembling lips. You would cry too if you were an orphan and had come to a place you thought was going to be home and found that they didn't want you because you weren't a boy. Oh, This is the most tragical thing that ever happened to me. Something like a reluctant smile? Rather rusty from long disuse, Mellowed Marilla's grim expression. Well, Don't cry anymore. We're not going to turn you out of doors tonight. You'll have to stay here until we investigate this affair. What's your name? The child hesitated for a moment. Will you please call me? Cordelia, She said eagerly. Call you Cordelia? Is that your name? No. It's not exactly my name, But I would love to be called Cordelia. It's such a perfectly elegant name. I don't know what on earth you mean. If Cordelia isn't your name, What is? And Shirley reluctantly faltered forth, The owner of that name. But oh, Please do call me Cordelia. It can't matter much to you what you call me if I'm only going to be here a little while, Can it? And Anne. Is such an unromantic name. Unromantic. Fiddlesticks, Said the unsympathetic Marilla. Anne is a real good, Plain, Sensible name. You've no need to be ashamed of it. Oh, I'm not ashamed of it, Explained Anne, Only I like Cordelia better. I've always imagined that my name was Cordelia. At least, I always have of late years. When I was young, I used to imagine it was Geraldine, But I like Cordelia better now. But if you call me Anne, Please call me Anne spelled with an E. What difference does it make how it's spelled? Asked Marilla with another rusty smile as she picked up the teapot. Oh, It makes such a difference. It looks so much nicer. When you hear a name pronounced, Can't you always see it in your mind, Just as if it was printed out? I can and A N N looks dreadful but A N N E looks so much more distinguished. If you'll only call me Anne, Spelled with an E, I shall try to reconcile myself to not being called Cordelia. Very well then. Anne spelled with an E. Can you tell us how this mistake came to be made? We sent word to Mrs Spencer to bring us a boy. Were there no boys at the asylum? Oh, Yes, There was an abundance of them, But. . . Mrs Spencer said distinctly that you wanted a girl about 11 years old. And the matron said she thought I would do. You don't know how delighted I was. I couldn't sleep all last night for joy. Oh, She added, Reproachfully turning to Matthew, Why didn't you tell me at the station that you didn't want me and leave me there? If I hadn't seen the white way of delight and the lake of shining waters. It wouldn't be so hard. What on earth does she mean? Demanded Marilla, Staring at Matthew. She's just referring to some conversation we had on the road, Said Matthew hastily. I'm going out to put the mare in, Marilla. Have tea ready when I come back. Did Mrs Spencer bring anybody over besides you? Continued Marilla when Matthew had gone out. She brought Lily Jones for herself. Lily is only five years old and she is very beautiful and had nut brown hair. If I was very beautiful and had nut brown hair, Would you keep me? Me? No? We want a boy to help Matthew on the farm. Go. Be of no use to us. Take off your hat. I'll lay it and your bag on the hall table. Anne took off her hat meekly. Matthew came back presently, And they sat down to supper. But Anne could not eat. In vain she nibbled at the bread and butter, And pecked at the crab-apple preserve out of the little scalloped glass dish by her plate. She did not really make any headway at all. "'You're not eating anything, ' said Marilla sharply, Eyeing her as if it were a serious shortcoming. Anne sighed. I can't. I'm in the depths of despair. Can you eat when you are in the depths of despair? I've never been in the depths of despair, So I can't say, Responded Marilla. Weren't you? Well, Did you ever try to imagine you were in the depths of despair? No, I didn't. Then I don't think you can understand what it's like. It's a very uncomfortable feeling indeed. When you try to eat, A lump comes right up in your throat and you can't swallow anything. Not even if it was a chocolate caramel. I had one chocolate caramel once, Two years ago, And it was simply delicious. I've often dreamed since then that I had a lot of chocolate caramels. But I always wake up just when I'm going to eat them. I do hope you won't be offended because I can't eat. Everything is extremely nice, But still, I cannot eat. "'I guess she's tired, ' said Matthew, Who hadn't spoken since his return from the barn. "'Best put her to bed, Marilla. '" Marilla had been wondering where Anne should be put to bed. She had prepared a couch in the kitchen chamber for the desired and expected boy, But although it was neat and clean, It did not seem quite the thing to put a girl there, Somehow. But the spare room was out of the question for such a stray waif. So, There remained only the East Gable Room. Marilla lighted a candle and told Anne to follow her, Which Anne spiritlessly did, Taking her hat and carpet bag from the hall table as she passed. The hall was fearsomely clean. The little gable chamber in which she presently found herself seemed still cleaner. Marilla set the candle on a three-legged, Three-cornered table and turned down the bedclothes. So things are always skimpy, At least in a poor asylum like ours. I hate skimpy nightdresses. But one can dream just as well in them as in lovely trailing ones with frills around the neck. That's one consolation. Well, Undress as quick as you can and go to bed. I'll come back in a few minutes for the candle. I daren't trust you to put it out yourself. You'd likely set the place on fire. When Marilla had gone, Anne looked around her wistfully. The whitewashed walls were so painfully bare and staring. That she thought they must ache over their own bareness. The floor was bare too, Except for a round braided mat in the middle, Such as Anne had never seen before. In one corner was the bed, A high, Old-fashioned one, With four dark, Low-turned posts. In the other corner was the aforesaid three-corner table, Adorned with a fat red velvet pincushion hard enough to turn the point of the most adventurous pin. Above it hung a little 6x8 mirror. Midway between table and bed was the window, With an icy white muslin frill over it. And opposite it was the washstand. The whole apartment was of a rigidity not to be described in words, But which sent a shiver to the very marrow of Anne's bones. With a sob, She hastily discarded her garments, Put on the skimpy nightgown, And sprang into bed, Where she burrowed face downward into the pillow and pulled the clothes over her head. When Marilla came up for the light, Various skimpy articles of Raymond scattered most untidily over the floor, And a certain tempestuous appearance of the bed were the only indications of any presence save her own. She deliberately picked up Anne's clothes, Placed them neatly on a prim yellow chair, And then, Taking up the candle, Went over to the bed. Good night, " she said, A little awkwardly, But not unkindly. Anne's white face and big eyes appeared over the bedclothes with a startling suddenness. How can you call it a good night when you know it must be the very worst night I've ever had? She said reproachfully. Then she dived down into invisibility again. Marilla went slowly down to the kitchen. And proceeded to wash the supper dishes. Matthew was smoking. A sure sign of perturbation of mind. He seldom smoked, For Marilla set her face against it as a filthy habit. But at certain times and seasons, He felt driven to it. And then Marilla winked at the practice, Realizing that a mere man must have some vent for his emotions. Well, This is a pretty kettle of fish, She said wrathfully. This is what comes of sending word instead of going ourselves. Richard Spencer's folks have twisted that message somehow. One of us will have to drive over and see Mrs Spencer tomorrow. That's certain. This girl will have to be sent back to the asylum. Yes. I suppose so, Said Matthew, Reluctantly. You suppose so? Don't you know it? Well, Now. . . She's a real nice little thing, Marilla. It's kind of a pity to send her back when she's so set on staying here. Matthew Covey! You don't mean to say you think we ought to keep her? Marilla's astonishment could not have been greater if Matthew had expressed a predilection for standing on his head. No i suppose not not exactly stammered matthew uncomfortably driven into a corner for his precise meaning i suppose We could hardly be expected to keep her. I should say not. What good would she be to us? We might be some good to her. Said Matthew suddenly and unexpectedly. Matthew Cuthbert! I believe that child has bewitched you. I can see as plain as plain that you want to keep her. Well, Now. . . She's a real interesting little thing, Persisted Matthew. You should have heard her talk coming from the station. Oh, She can talk fast enough. I saw that at once. It's nothing in her favour either. I don't like children who have so much to say. I don't want an orphan girl. And if I did, She isn't the style I'd pick out. Something I don't understand about her. No. She's got to be dispatched straight way back to where she came from. I could hire a French boy to help me, Said Matthew, And she'd be company for you. I'm not suffering for company, Said Marilla shortly, And I'm not going to keep her. Well now, It's just as you say, Of course, Marilla. Said Matthew, Rising and putting his pipe away. I'm Going to bed. To bed went Matthew, And to bed, When she had put her dishes away, Went Marilla, Frowning most resolutely. And upstairs, In the east gable, A lonely, Heart-hungry, Friendless child cried herself to sleep. Chapter 4 Mourning at Green Gables It was broad daylight when Anne awoke and sat up in bed, Staring confusedly at the window through which a flood of cheery sunshine was pouring, And outside of which something white and feathery waved across glimpses of blue sky. For a moment, She could not remember where she was. First came a delightful thrill as something very pleasant, Then a horrible remembrance. This was Green Gables, And they didn't want her because she wasn't a boy. But it was morning and yes, It was a cherry tree in full bloom outside of her window. With a bound, She was out of bed and across the floor. She pushed up the sash. It went up stiffly and creakily, As if it hadn't been opened for a long time, Which was the case. And it stuck so tight that nothing was needed to hold it up. Anne dropped on her knees and gazed out into the June morning. Her eyes glistening with delight. Wasn't it beautiful? Wasn't it a lovely place? Suppose she wasn't really going to stay here. She would imagine. She was. There was scope for imagination here. A huge cherry tree grew outside, So close that its boughs tapped against the house. And it was so thick-set with blossoms that hardly a leaf was to be seen. On both sides of the house was a big orchard, One of apple trees and one of cherry trees, Also showered over with blossoms. And their grass was all sprinkled with dandelions. In the garden below were lilac trees, Purple with flowers, And their dizzily sweet fragrance drifted up to the window on the morning wind. Below the garden, A green field, Lush with clover, Sloped down to the hollow where the brook ran and where scores of white birches grew, Upspringing, Arily, Out of an undergrowth suggestive of delightful possibilities in ferns and mosses and woodsy things, Generally. Beyond it was a hill, Green and feathery with spruce and fir. There was a gap in it where the grey gable end of the little house she had seen from the other side of the Lake of Shining Waters was visible. Off to the left were the big barns, And beyond them, A way down over green, Low-sloping fields, Was a sparkling blue glimpse of sea. Anne's beauty-loving eyes lingered on it all. Taking everything greedily in. She had looked on so many unlovely places in her life, Poor child, But this was as lovely as anything she had ever dreamed. She knelt there, Lost to everything but the loveliness around her, Until she was startled by a hand on her shoulder. Marilla had come in unheard by the small dreamer. It's time you were dressed, She said curtly. Marilla really did not know how to talk to the child, And her uncomfortable ignorance made her crisp and curt when she did not mean to be. Anne stood up and drew a long breath. Oh, Isn't it wonderful, She said, Waving her hand comprehensively at the good world outside. It's a big tree, Said Marilla, And it blooms great, But the fruit don't amount to much, Never small and wormy. Oh, I don't mean just the tree. Of course, It's lovely. Yes, It's radiantly lovely. It blooms as if it meant it. But I meant everything, The garden and the orchard and the brook and the woods. The whole big Dear world. Don't you feel as if you just loved the world on a morning like this? And I can hear the brook laughing all the way up here. Have you ever noticed what cheerful things brooks are? They're always laughing. Even in wintertime, I've heard them under the ice. I'm so glad there's a brook near Green Gables. Perhaps you think it doesn't make any difference to me when you're not going to keep me. But it does. I shall always like to remember that there is a brook at Green Gables, Even if I never see it again. If there wasn't a Brooke, I'd be haunted by the uncomfortable feeling that there ought to be one. I'm not in the depths of despair this morning. I never can be in the morning. Isn't it a splendid thing that there are mornings? But. I feel very sad. I've just been imagining that it was really me you wanted, After all, And that I was to stay here forever and ever. It was a great comfort while it lasted. But the worst of imagining things is that the time comes when. . . You have to stop. And that hurts. You'd better get dressed and come downstairs and never mind your imaginings, Said Marilla as soon as she could get a word in edgewise. Breakfast is waiting. Wash your face and comb your hair. Leave the window up and turn your bedclothes back over the foot of the bed. Be as smart as you can. Anne could evidently be smart to some purpose, For she was downstairs in 10 minutes time, With her clothes neatly on, Her hair brushed and braided, Her face washed, And a comfortable consciousness pervading her soul that she had fulfilled all Marilla's requirements. As a matter of fact, However, She had forgotten to turn back the bedclothes. I'm pretty hungry this morning, " she announced as she slipped into the chair Marilla had placed for her. The world doesn't seem such a howling wilderness as it did last night. I'm so glad it's a sunshiny morning. But I like rainy mornings real well too. All sorts of mornings are interesting, Don't you think? You don't know what's going to happen through the day and there's so much scope for imagination. But I'm glad it's not rainy today because it's easier to be cheerful and bear up under affliction on a sunshiny day. I feel that I have a good deal to bear up under It's all very well to read about sorrows and imagine yourself living through them heroically, But it's not so nice when you really come to have them, Is it? Pity's sake, Hold your tongue, " said Marilla. You talk entirely too much for a little girl. Thereupon, Anne held her tongue so obediently and thoroughly that her continued silence made Marilla rather nervous, As if in the presence of something not exactly natural. Matthew also held his tongue, But this was natural. So that the meal was a very silent one. As it progressed, Anne became more and more abstracted, Eating mechanically, With her big eyes fixed unswervingly and unseeingly on the sky outside the window. This made Marilla more nervous than ever. She had an uncomfortable feeling that while this odd child's body might be there at the table, Her spirit was far away in some remote, Airy cloud land, Born aloft on the wings of imagination. Who would want such a child about the place? Yet Matthew wished to keep her. Of all unaccountable things. Marilla felt that he wanted it just as much this morning as he had the night before. And that he would go on wanting it. That was Matthew's way. Take a whim into his head and cling to it with the most amazing silent persistency. A persistency ten times more potent and effectual in its very silence than if he had talked it out. When the meal was ended, Anne came out of her reverie and offered to wash the dishes. Can you wash dishes right? Asked Marilla distrustfully. Pretty well. I'm better at looking after children though. I've had so much experience at that. It's such a pity you haven't any here for me to look after. I don't feel as if I wanted any more children to look after than I've got at present. You're problem enough in all conscience. What's to be done with you? I don't know. Matthew is a most ridiculous man. I think he's lovely, Said Anne reproachfully. He is so very sympathetic. He didn't mind how much I talked. He seemed to like it. I felt that he was a kindred spirit. As soon as ever I saw him. You're both queer enough, If that's what you mean by kindred spirits, " said Marilla with a sniff. Yes, You may wash the dishes. Take plenty of hot water and be sure you dry them well. I've got enough to attend to this morning, For I'll have to drive over to White Sands in the afternoon and see Mrs Spencer. You'll come with me and we'll settle what's to be done with you. After you've finished the dishes, Go upstairs and make your bed. Anne washed the dishes deftly enough, As Marilla, Who kept a sharp eye on the process, Discerned. Later on she made her bed, Less successfully, For she had never learned the art of wrestling with a feather tick, But it was done somehow and smoothed down, And then Marilla to get rid of her, Told her she might go out of doors and amuse herself until dinner time. Anne flew to the door, Face alight, Eyes glowing, On the very threshold. She stopped short, Wheeled about, Came back. And sat down by the table. Light and glow as effectually blotted out as if someone had clapped an extinguisher on her. What's the matter now? Demanded Marilla. I don't dare go out, Said Anne, In the tone of a martyr relinquishing all earthly joys, If I can't stay here. There is no use in my loving green gables. And if I go out there and get acquainted with all those trees and flowers and the orchard and the brook. I'll not be able to help loving it. It's hard enough now, So. . . I won't make it any harder. I want to go out so much. Everything seems to be calling to me. Anne, Anne, Come out to us. Anne, Anne, We want a playmate. But it's better not. There is no use in loving things if you have to be torn from them, Is there? And it's so hard to keep from loving things, Isn't it? That was why I was so glad when I thought I was going to live here. I thought I'd have so many things to love and nothing to hinder me. But that brief dream is over. I am resigned to my fate now, So I don't think I'll go out. For fear I'll get un-resigned again. What is the name of that geranium on the windowsill, Please? That's the apple-scented geranium. Oh, I don't mean that sort of a name. I mean just a name you gave it yourself. Didn't you give it a name? May I give it one then? May I call it? Let me see. Bonnie would do. May I call it Bonnie while I'm here? Oh, Do let me. Goodness. I don't care. But where on earth is the sense of naming a geranium? Oh, I like things to have handles even if they are only geraniums. It makes them seem more like people. How do you know but that it hurts a geranium's feelings? Just to be called a geranium and nothing else. You wouldn't like to be called nothing but a woman all the time. Yes, I shall call it Bonnie. I named that cherry tree outside my bedroom window this morning. I called it Snow Queen because it was so white. Of course, It won't always be in blossom, But one can imagine that it is, Can't one? I never in all my life saw or heard anything to equal her, " muttered Marilla, Beating a retreat down to the cellar after potatoes. She is kind of interesting, As Matthew says. I can feel already that I'm wondering what on earth she'll say next. She'll be casting a spell over me too. She's cast it over Matthew. That look he gave me when he went out said. Everything he said or hinted last night over again. I wish he was like other men and would talk things out. A body could answer back then and argue him into reason. But what's to be done with a man who just. . . Looks. Anne had relapsed into reverie, With her chin in her hands and her eyes on the sky, When Marilla returned from her cellar pilgrimage. There, Marilla left her until the early dinner was on the table. I suppose I can have the mare and buggy this afternoon, Matthew, " said Marilla. Matthew nodded. And looked wistfully at Anne. Marilla intercepted the look and said grimly, I'm going to drive over to White Sands and settle this thing. I'll take Anne with me and Mrs Spencer will probably make arrangements to send her back to Nova Scotia at once. I'll set your tea out for you and I'll be home in time to milk the cows. Still, Matthew said nothing. And Marilla had a sense of having wasted words and breath. There is nothing more aggravating than a man who won't talk back. Unless it is a woman who won't. Matthew hitched the sorrel into the buggy in due time. And Marilla and Anne set off. Matthew opened the yard gate for them, And as they drove slowly through, He said to nobody in particular, As it seemed, Little Jerry Buott from the creek was here this morning. And I told him I guessed I'd hire him for the summer. Marilla made no reply. But she hit the unlucky Sorrel such a vicious clip with the whip that the fat mare, Unused to such treatment, Whizzed indignantly down the lane at an alarming pace. Marilla looked back once as the buggy bounced along. And saw that aggravating Matthew leaning over the gate looking wistfully after them. Chapter 5 Anne's History Do you know, Said Anne confidentially, I've made up my mind to enjoy this drive. It's been my experience that you can nearly always enjoy things if you make up your mind firmly that you will. Of course, You must make it up firmly. I am not going to think about going back to the asylum while we're having our drive. I'm just going to think about the drive. Oh look, There's one little early wild rose out. Isn't it lovely? Don't you think it must be glad to be a rose? Wouldn't it be nice if roses could talk? I'm sure they could tell us such lovely things. And isn't pink the most bewitching colour in the world? I love it. But I can't wear it. Red-headed people can't wear pink. Not even in imagination. Did you ever know of anybody whose hair was red when she was young but got to be another color when she grew up? No, I don't know as I ever did, Said Marilla mercilessly, And I shouldn't think it likely to happen in your case either. And side. Well, That is another hope gone. My life is a perfect graveyard of buried hopes. That's a sentence I read in a book once and I say it over to comfort myself whenever I'm disappointed in anything. I don't see where the comforting comes in, Myself, " said Marilla. Why? Because it sounds so nice and romantic. Just as if I were a heroine in a book, You know? I am so fond of romantic things. And a graveyard full of buried hopes is about as romantic a thing as one can imagine, Isn't it? I'm rather glad I have one. Are we going across the Lake of Shining Waters today? We're not going over Barry's Pond, If that's what you mean by your lake of shining waters. We're going by the shore road. Shore Road. "'Sounds nice, ' said Anne dreamily. "'Is it as nice as it sounds? ' Just when you said Shore Road, I saw it in a picture in my mind. As quick as that. And White Sands is a pretty name too. But I don't like it as well as Avonlea. Avonlea is a lovely name. It just sounds like music. How far is it to White Sands? It's five miles. And as you're evidently bent on talking, You might as well talk to some purpose by telling me what you know about yourself. Oh. What I know about myself isn't really worth telling, Said Anne eagerly. If you'll only let me tell you what I imagine about myself, You'll think it ever so much more interesting. No, I don't want any of your imaginings. Just you stick to bold facts. Begin at the beginning. Where were you born and how old are you? I was eleven last March, " said Anne, Resigning herself to bold facts with a little sigh. And I was born in Bolingbroke, Nova Scotia. My father's name was Walter Shirley and he was a teacher in the Bolingbroke High School. My mother's name was Bertha Shirley. Aren't Walter and Bertha lovely names? I'm so glad my parents had nice names. It would be a real disgrace to have a father named, Well, Say Jedediah, Wouldn't it? I guess it doesn't matter what a person's name is as long as he behaves himself, Said Marilla, Feeling herself called upon to inculcate a good and useful moral. Well, I don't know, Anne looked thoughtful. I read in a book once that a rose by any other name would smell a sweet but. . . I've never been able to believe it. I don't believe a rose would be as nice if it was called a thistle or a skunk cabbage. I suppose my father could have been a good man, Even if he had been called Jedidiah. But I'm sure it would have been a cross. Well, My mother was a teacher in the high school, Too, But when she married father, She gave up teaching, Of course. A husband was enough responsibility. Mrs. Thomas said that they were a pair of babies, And as poor as church mice. They went to live in a weeny teeny little yellow house in Bolingbroke. I've never seen that house but I've imagined it thousands of times. I think it must have had honeysuckle over the parlour window and lilacs in the front yard and lilies of the valley just inside the gate. Yes, And muslin curtains in all the windows. Muslin curtains give a house such an air. I was born in that house. Mrs Thomas said I was the homeliest baby she ever saw. I was so scrawny and tiny and nothing but eyes. But the mother thought I was perfectly beautiful. I should think a mother would be a better judge than a poor woman who came in to scrub, Wouldn't you? I'm glad she was satisfied with me, Anyhow. I would feel so sad if I thought I was a disappointment to her. Because she didn't live very long after that, You see. She died of fever when I was just three months old. I do wish she'd lived long enough for me to remember calling her mother. I think it would be so sweet to say mother, Don't you? And father died four days afterwards from fever too. That left me an orphan. And folks were at their wits' end. So Mrs Thomas said, What to do with me? You see, Nobody wanted me, Even then. It seems to be my fate. Father and mother had both come from places far away. And it was well known they hadn't any relatives living. Finally, Mrs. Thomas said she'd take me, Though she was poor and had a drunken husband. She brought me up by hand. Do you know if there is anything in being brought up by hand that ought to make people who are brought up that way feel better? Better than other people? Because whenever I was naughty, Mrs. Thomas would ask me how I could be such a bad girl when she had brought me up by hand. Reproachful-like. Mr. And Mrs. Thomas moved away from Bolingbroke to Marysville. And I lived with them until I was eight years old. I helped look after the Thomas children. There were four of them, Younger than me. And I can tell you they took a lot of looking after. Then Mr Thomas was killed falling under a train. And his mother offered to take Mrs Thomas and the children, But. . . She didn't want me. Mrs Thomas was at her wits end so she said what to do with me. Then Mrs Hammond from up the river came down and said she'd take me, Seeing I was handy with children. And I went up the river to live with her in a little clearing among the stumps. It was a very lonesome place. I'm sure I could never have lived there if I hadn't had an imagination. Mr. Hammond worked a little sawmill up there and Mrs. Hammond had eight children. She had twins three times. I like babies in moderation, But twins three times in succession. Is too much. I told Mrs Hammond so firmly when the last pair came. I used to get so dreadfully tired carrying them about. I lived upriver with Mrs Hammond. Over two years and then Mr Hammond died and Mrs Hammond broke up housekeeping. She divided her children among her relatives and went to the States. I had to go to the asylum at Hopeton. Because nobody would take me. They didn't want me at the asylum either. They said they were overcrowded as it was, But. . . They had to take me. And I was there for months, Until Mrs Spencer came. And finished up. With another side. Of relief this time. Evidently, She did not like talking about her experiences in a world that had not wanted her. Did you ever go to school? Demanded Marilla, Turning the sorrel mare down the shore road. Not a great deal. I went a little the last year I stayed with Mrs Thomas. When I went up river we were so far from a school that I couldn't walk it in winter and there was a vacation in summer so I could only go in the spring and fall. But of course I went while I was at the asylum. I can read pretty well, And I know ever so many pieces of poetry off by heart. The Battle of Hohenlinden, And Edinburgh after Flodden, And Bingham of the Rhine, And most of The Lady of the Lake, And most of The Seasons by James Thompson. Don't you just love poetry that gives you a crinkly feeling up and down your back? There is a piece in the fifth reader, The Downfall of Poland, That is just full of thrills. Of course, I wasn't in the fifth reader, I was only in the fourth, But the big girls used to lend me theirs to read. Were those women, Mrs Thomas and Mrs Hammond, Good to you? Asked Marilla, Looking at Anne out of the corner of her eye. Oh, Faltered Anne, Her sensitive little face suddenly flushed scarlet, And embarrassment sat on her brow. Oh, They meant to be. I know they meant to be, Just as good and kind as possible. And when people mean to be good to you, You don't mind very much when they're not. Quite always. They had a good deal to worry them, You know? It's very trying to have a drunken husband, You see. And it must be very trying to have twins three times in succession, Don't you think? I feel sure they meant to be good to me. Marilla asked no more questions. Anne gave herself up to a silent rapture over the shore road. And Marilla guided the sorrow abstractedly while she pondered deeply. Pity was suddenly stirring in her heart for the child. What a starved, Unloved life she had had. A life of drudgery and poverty and neglect. For Marilla was shrewd enough to read between the lines of Anne's history and divine the truth. No wonder she had been so delighted at the prospect of a real home. It was. Pity. She had to be sent back. What if she, Marilla, Should indulge Matthew's unaccountable whim and Let her stay. He was set on it. And the child seemed, Uh, Nice. Teachable little thing. She's got too much to say, Thought Marilla, But. . . She might be trained out of that. And there's nothing rude or slangy in what she does say. She's ladylike. It's likely her people were nice folks. The shore road was woodsy and wild and lonesome. On the right hand, Scrub firs, Their spirits quite unbroken by long years of tussle with the gulf winds, Grew thickly. On the left were the steep red sandstone cliffs, So near the track in places that a mare of less steadiness than the sorrel might have tried the nerves of the people behind her. Down at the base of the cliffs were heaps of surf-worn rocks, Or little sandy coves inlaid with pebbles as with ocean jewels. Beyond lay the sea, Shimmering and blue, And over it soared the gulls, Their pinions flashing silvery. In the sunlight. Isn't the sea wonderful? " said Anne, Rousing from a long, Wide-eyed silence. Once, When I lived in Marysville, Mr Thomas hired an express wagon and took us all to spend the day at the shore, Ten miles away. I enjoyed every moment of that day, Even if I had to look after the children all the time. I lived it over in happy dreams for years. But this shore is nicer than the Marysville shore. Aren't those gulls splendid? Would you like to be a gull? I think I would. That is, If I couldn't be a human girl. Don't you think it would be nice to wake up at sunrise and swoop down? Over the water and away out over that lovely blue all day and then at night to fly back to one's nest. Ugh. I can just imagine myself doing it. What big house is that just ahead please? That's the White Sands Hotel. Mr Kirk runs it. But the season hasn't begun yet. There are heaps of Americans come there for the summer. They think this shore is just about right. I was afraid it might be Mrs Spencer's place, Said Anne mournfully. I. . . I don't want to get there. Somehow, It will seem. Like the end of everything. Chapter six, Marilla makes up her mind. Get there. They did, However, In due season. Mrs Spencer lived in a big yellow house at White Sands Cove. And she came to the door with surprise and welcome mingled on her benevolent face. "'Dear, Dear! ' she exclaimed. "'You're the last folks I was looking for today, "'but I'm real glad to see you. "'You'll put your horse in? ' And how are you, Anne? I'm as well as can be expected. Thank you, Said Anne, Smile-lessly. A blight seemed to have descended on her. I suppose we'll stay a little while to rest the mare, Said Marilla, But I promised Matthew I'd be home early. The fact is, Mrs Spencer, There's been a queer mistake somewhere and I've come over to see where it is. We send word, Matthew and I, For you to bring us a boy from the asylum. We told your brother Robert to tell you we wanted a boy, 10 or 11 years old. Marilla Cuthbert? "'You don't say so, ' said Mrs Spencer, In distress. "'Why, Robert sent word down by his daughter Nancy, And she said you wanted a girl, Didn't she, Flora Jane? ' appealing to her daughter, Who had come out to the steps. "'She certainly did, Miss Cuthbert, ' corroborated Flora Jane, Earnestly. "'I'm dreadful sorry, ' said Mrs. Spencer. "'It's too bad. ' "'But it certainly wasn't my fault, You see, Miss Cuthbert. "'I did the best I could, "'and I thought I was following your instructions. ' Nancy is a terrible, Flighty thing. I've often had to scold her well for her heedlessness. It. Was our own fault, " said Marilla resignedly. We should have come to you ourselves and not left an important message to be passed along by word of mouth in that fashion. Anyhow, The mistake has been made and the only thing to do is to set it right. Can we send the child back to the asylum? I suppose they'll take her back, Won't they? I suppose so, Said Mrs Spencer thoughtfully, But. . . I don't think it will be necessary to send her back. Mrs. Peter Blewett was up here yesterday and she was saying to me how much she wished she'd sent by me for a little girl to help her. Mrs. Peter has a large family, You know, And she finds it hard to get help. Anne will be the very girl for you. I call it positively providential. Marilla did not look as if she thought Providence had much to do with the matter. Here was an unexpectedly good chance to get this unwelcome orphan off her hands and She did not even feel grateful for it. She knew Mrs. Peter Blewett only by sight as a small, Shrewish-faced woman without an ounce of superfluous flesh on her bones, But she had heard of her, A terrible worker and driver, Mrs. Peter was said to be. And discharged servant girls told fearsome tales of her temper and stinginess, And her family of pert, Quarrelsome children. Marilla felt a qualm of conscience. At the thought of handing Anne over to her tender mercies. Well. . . I'll go in and we'll talk. Talk the matter over, She said. And if there isn't mrs peter coming up the lane this blessed minute exclaimed mrs spencer bustling her guests through the hall into the parlor where A deadly chill struck on them, As if the air had been strained so long through dark green, Closely drawn blinds that it had lost every particle of warmth it had ever possessed. That is real lucky, For we can settle the matter right away. Take the armchair, Miss Cuthbert. Anne, You sit here on the ottoman and don't wiggle. Let me take your hats. Flora Jane, Go out and put the kettle on. Good afternoon, Mrs Blewett. We were just saying how fortunate it was you happened along. Let me introduce you two ladies. Mrs Blewett, Miss Cuthbert. Please excuse me for just a moment. I forgot to tell Flora Jane to take the buns out of the oven. Mrs Spencer whisked away after pulling up the blinds. Anne, Sitting mutely on the ottoman, With her hands clasped tightly in her lap, Stared at Mrs Blewett as one fascinated. Was she to be given into the keeping of this sharp-faced, Sharp-eyed woman? She felt a lump coming up in her throat. And her eyes smarted painfully. She was beginning to be afraid, She couldn't keep the tears back, When Mrs Spencer returned, Flushed and beaming, Quite capable of taking any and every difficulty, Physical, Mental or spiritual, Into consideration and settling it out of hand It seems there's been a mistake about this little girl, Mrs. Blewett, She said. I was under the impression that Mr. And Miss Cuthbert wanted a little girl to adopt. I was certainly told so, But it seems it was a boy they wanted. So, If you're still of the same mind you were yesterday. I think she'll be just the thing for you. Mrs Blewett darted her eyes over Anne from head to foot. How old are you? And what's your name? She demanded. Anne Shirley faltered the shrinking child, Not daring to make any stipulations regarding the spelling thereof. And I'm eleven years old. You don't look as if there was much to you, But you're wiry. I don't know, But the wiry ones are the best, After all. Well, If I take you, You'll have to be a good girl, You know? Good and smart and respectful. I'll expect you to earn your keep. And no mistake about that. Yes, I suppose I might as well take her off your hands, Miss Cuthbert. The baby's awful fractures, And I'm clean worn out attending to him. If you like, I can take her right home now. Marilla looked at Anne. And softened. At sight of the child's pale face, With its look of mute misery. The misery of a helpless little creature who finds itself once more caught in the trap from which it had escaped. Marilla felt an uncomfortable conviction that if she denied the appeal of that look It would haunt her to her dying day. Moreover, She did not fancy Mrs Blewitt. To hand a sensitive, High-strung child over to such a woman. No. She could not take the responsibility of doing that. Well. . . I don't know. She said slowly. I didn't say. That Matthew and I had absolutely decided that we wouldn't keep her. In fact, I may say that Matthew is disposed to keep her. I just came over to find out how the mistake had occurred. I think I'd better take her home again and Talk it over with Matthew. I feel that I oughtn't to decide on anything without consulting him. If we make up our mind not to keep her. Will bring or send her over to you tomorrow night. If we don't, You may know that She is going to stay with us. Will that suit you, Mrs Blewett? I suppose it'll have to, " said Mrs Blewett ungraciously. During Marilla's speech, A sunrise had been dawning on Anne's face. First, The look of despair faded out. Then came a faint flush of hope. Her eyes grew deep and bright as morning stars. The child was quite transfigured. And a moment later, When Mrs. Spencer and Mrs. Blewett went out in quest of a recipe the latter had come to borrow, She sprang up and flew across the room to Marilla. Ow. Miss Cuthbert! Did you really say that perhaps you would let me stay at Green Gate Pools? She said in a breathless whisper, As if speaking aloud might shatter the glorious possibility. Did you really say it? Or did I only imagine that you did? I think you'd better learn to control that imagination of yours, Anne. If you can't distinguish between what is real and what isn't, " said Marilla crossly. Yes, You did hear me say just that, And no more. It isn't decided yet. And perhaps we will conclude to let Mrs Blewett take you after all. She certainly needs you much more than I do. Rather go back to the asylum than go to live with her, Said Anne passionately. She looks exactly like a. . . Like a Gimlet. Marilla smothered a smile under the conviction that Anne must be reproved for such a speech. A little girl like you should be ashamed. Of talking so about a lady and a stranger. She said severely. Go back and sit down quietly and hold your tongue. And behave as a good girl should. I'll try to do and be anything you want me, If you'll only keep me, " said Anne, Returning meekly to her ottoman. When they arrived back at Green Gables that evening, Matthew met them in the lane. Marilla, From afar, Had noted him prowling along it, And guessed his motive. She was prepared for the relief, She read in his face, When he saw that she had at least brought back Anne back with her. But she said nothing to him, Relative to the affair, Until they were both out in the yard, Behind the barn, Milking the cows. Then, She briefly told him Anne's history and the result of the interview with Mrs Spencer. I wouldn't give a dog I liked to that blue-wit woman, Said Matthew with unusual vim. I don't fancy her style myself, Admitted Marilla, But it's that or keeping her ourselves, Matthew. And since you seem to want her, I suppose I'm willing, Or have to be. I've been thinking over the idea until I've got kind of used to it. It seems a sort of duty. I've never brought up a child, Especially a girl. And I dare say, I'll make a terrible mess of it. I'll do my best. So far, As I'm concerned, Matthew. She may stay. Matthew's shy face was a glow of delight. Well now. . . I reckoned you'd come to see it in that light, Marilla, " he said. She's such an interesting little thing. It'd be more to the point if you could say she was a useful little thing, Retorted Marilla, But I'll make it my business to see she's trained to be that. And mind, Matthew, You're not to go interfering with my methods. Perhaps an old maid doesn't know much about bringing up a child, But I guess she knows more than an old bachelor. So, You just leave me to manage her. When I fail, It'll be time enough to put your oar in. There, There, Marilla. You can have your own way, Said Matthew, Reassuringly. Only Be as good and kind to her as you can. Without spoiling her. I kind of think she's one of the sort you can do anything with. If you only get her to love you. Marilla sniffed to express her contempt for Matthew's opinions concerning anything feminine. And walked off to the dairy with the pails. I won't tell her tonight that she can stay, She reflected as she strained the milk into the creamers. She'd be so excited that she wouldn't sleep a wink. Marilla Cuthbert, You're fairly in for it. Did you ever suppose you'd see the day when you'd be adopting an orphan girl? It's surprising enough. But not so surprising as that Matthew should be at the bottom of it. Him that always seemed to have such a mortal dread of little girls. Anyhow. . . We've decided on the experiment. And goodness only knows what will come of it. Chapter Seven Anne Says Her Prayers When Marilla took Anne up to bed that night, She said stiffly, And place it on the chair. I haven't any use at all for little girls who aren't neat. I was so harrowed up in my mind last night that I didn't think about my clothes at all, " said Anne. I'll fold them nicely tonight. They always made us do that at the asylum. Half the time, Though, I'd forget. I'd be in such a hurry to get into bed, Nice and quiet and imagine things. You'll have to remember a little better if you stay here, Admonished Marilla. There, That looks something like. Say your prayers now and get into bed. I never say any prayers, Announced Anne. Marilla looked horrified astonishment. What do you mean? Were you never taught to say your prayers? God always wants little girls to say their prayers. Don't you know who God is, Anne? God is a spirit, Infinite, Eternal and unchangeable, In his being, Wisdom, Power, Holiness, Justice, Goodness and truth, Responded Anne promptly and glibly. Marilla looked rather relieved. So, You do know something then. Thank goodness, You're not quite a heathen. Where did you learn that? At the Asylum Sunday School. They made us learn the whole catechism. I. . . Liked it. Pretty well. There's something splendid about some of the words. Infinite, Eternal and unchangeable. Isn't that grand? It has such a roll to it. Just like a big organ playing. You couldn't quite call it poetry, I suppose, But It sounds a lot like it, Doesn't it? We're not talking about poetry, Anne. We are talking about saying your prayers. Don't you know it's a terrible, Wicked thing not to say your prayers every night? I'm afraid you are a very bad little girl. You'd find it easier to be bad than good if you had red hair, Said Anne reproachfully. People who haven't red hair don't know what trouble is. Mrs Thomas told me that God made my hair red on purpose. And I've never cared about him since. And anyway, I'd always be too tired at night to bother saying prayers. People who have to look after twins can't be expected to say their prayers. Now, Do you honestly think they can? Marilla decided that Anne's religious training must be begun at once. Plainly, There was no time to be lost. You must say your prayers while you are under my roof, Anne. Why, Of course, If you want me to, " assented Anne cheerfully, I'd do anything to oblige you. But you'll have to tell me what to say for this once. After I get into bed, I'll imagine out a real nice prayer to say always. I believe that it will be quite interesting now that I come to think of it. You must kneel down, Said Marilla in embarrassment. Anne knelt at Marilla's knee and looked up gravely. Why must people kneel down to pray? If I really wanted to pray. I'd tell you what I'd do. I'd go out into a great big field all alone. Or into the deep, Deep woods, And I'd look up into the sky, Up, Up, Up. Into that lovely blue sky that looks as if there was no end to its blueness and then I'd just. . . Feel a prayer. Well, I'm ready. What am I to say? Marilla felt more embarrassed than ever. She had intended to teach Anne the childish classic, Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep. But she had, As I have told you, The glimmerings of a sense of humour. Which is simply another name for a sense of fitness of things. And it suddenly occurred to her that that simple little prayer, Sacred to white-robed childhood, Lisping at motherly knees, Was entirely unsuited to this freckled witch of a girl who knew and cared nothing about God's love. Since she had never had it translated to her through the medium of human love. You're old enough to. . . Pray for yourself, Anne, She said finally. Just thank God for your blessings and ask him humbly for the things you want. Well. . . I'll do my best, Promised Anne, Burying her face in Marilla's lap. Gracious Heavenly Father, That's the way the ministers say it in church, So I suppose it's all right in private prayer, Isn't it? She interjected, Lifting her head for a moment. Gracious Heavenly Father, I thank thee for the white way of delight, And the lake of shining waters, And Bonnie, And the Snow Queen. I'm really extremely grateful for them. And. . . That's all the blessings I can think of just now to thank thee for. As for the things I want, They're so numerous that it would take a great deal of time to name them all, So I will only mention the two most important. Please let me stay at Green Gables. Please let me be good looking when I grow up. I remain yours respectfully, Anne Shirley. There. Did I do all right? She asked eagerly, Getting up. I could have made it much more flowery if I'd had a little more time to think it over. Poor Marilla, Was only preserved from complete collapse by remembering that it was not irreverence, But simply spiritual ignorance on the part of Anne that was responsible for this Extraordinary petition. She tucked the child up in bed, Mentally vowing that she should be taught a prayer the very next day, And was leaving the room with the light when Anne called her back. I've just thought of it now. I should have said amen. In place of yours respectfully, Shouldn't I? The way the ministers do? I'd forgotten it. But I felt a prayer should be finished off in some way, So I put in the other. Do you suppose it will make any difference? I. . . I don't suppose it will, Said Marilla. Go to sleep now, Like a good child. Good night. I can only say goodnight tonight with a clear conscience, Said Anne, Cuddling luxuriously down among her pillows. Marilla retreated to the kitchen, Set the candle firmly on the table, And glared at Matthew. Matthew Cuthbert. It's about time somebody adopted that child and taught her something. She's next door to a Perfect! Heathen! Will you believe that she never said a prayer in her life? Till tonight. I'll send her to the manse tomorrow and borrow the peep of the day series. That's what I'll do. And she shall go to Sunday school just as soon as I can get some suitable clothes made for her. I foresee that I shall have my hands full. Well, Well, We can't get through this world without our share of trouble. I've had a pretty easy life of it so far but my time has come at last and I suppose I'll just have to make the best of it. Chapter 8 Anne's bringing up is begun. For reasons best known to herself, Marilla did not tell Anne that she was to stay at Green Gables until the next afternoon. During the forenoon, She kept the child busy with various tasks and watched over her with a keen eye while she did them. By noon, She had concluded that Anne was smart and obedient, Willing to work and quick to learn. Her most serious shortcoming seemed to be a tendency to fall into daydreams in the middle of a task and forget all about it until such time as she was sharply recalled to earth by a reprimand or a catastrophe. When Anne had finished washing the dinner dishes, She suddenly confronted Marilla with the air and expression of one desperately determined to learn the worst. Her thin little body trembled. From head to foot. Her face flushed and her eyes dilated until they were almost black. She clasped her hands tightly. And said in an imploring voice. Oh, Please, Miss Cuthbert. Won't you tell me if you are going to send me away or not? I've tried to be patient all the morning, But. . . I really feel that I cannot bear not knowing any longer. It's a dreadful feeling. Please. Tell me. You haven't scalded the dishcloth in clean hot water, As I told you to do, " said Marilla immovably. Just go and do it before you ask any more questions, Anne. Anne went and attended to the dishcloth. Then she returned to Marilla and fastened imploring eyes of the latter's face. Well, Said Marilla. Unable to find any excuse for deferring her explanation longer. I suppose. I might as well tell you. Matthew and I have decided. . . To keep you. That is, If you will try to be a good little girl and show yourself grateful, Why, Child, Whatever is the matter? I'm. . . Crying said anne in a tone of bewilderment i can't think why i'm glad as glad can be oh glad doesn't seem the right word at all I was glad about the white whey and the cherry blossoms but Thanks! Oh! It's something more than glad. I'm so happy. I'll try to be so good. It will be uphill work, I expect, For Mrs Thomas often told me I was desperately wicked. However, I'll do my very best. Pest. Can you tell me why I'm crying? I suppose it's because you're all. . . Excited and worked up, Said Marilla disapprovingly. Sit down on that chair and try to calm yourself. I'm afraid you both cry and laugh far too easily. Yes, You can stay here and we will try to do right by you. You must go to school. But it's only a fortnight till vacation, So it isn't worthwhile for you to start before it opens again in September. What am I? Call you? " asked Anne. Shall I always say Miss Cuthbert? Can I call you? Aunt Marilla. No. You'll call me just plain Marilla. I'm not used to being called Miss Cuthbert and it would make me nervous. It sounds awfully disrespectful. So just say Marilla, Protested Anne. I guess there'll be nothing disrespectful in it if you're careful to speak respectfully. Everybody, Young and old, In Avonlea calls me Marilla. Except the minister. He says Miss Cuthbert when he thinks of it. I'd love to call you Aunt Marilla, " said Anne wistfully. I've never had an aunt. Or any relation at all. Not even a grandmother. It would make me feel as if I really belonged to you. Can't I call you Aunt Marilla? No! I'm not your aunt. And I don't believe in calling people names that don't belong to them. But we could imagine you were my aunt. I couldn't, Said Marilla grimly. Do you never imagine things different from what they really are? Asked Anne, Wide-eyed. No. And drew a long breath. Oh, Miss. . . Marilla! How much you miss. I don't believe in imagining things different from what they really are, Retorted Marilla. When the Lord puts us in certain circumstances, He doesn't mean for us to imagine them away. And that reminds me. Go into the sitting room and Be sure your feet are clean and don't let any flies in. And bring me out the illustrated card that's on the mantelpiece. The Lord's Prayer is on it and you'll devote your spare time this afternoon to learning it off by heart. There's to be no more of such praying as I heard last night. I suppose I was very awkward, Said Anne apologetically. But then, You see, I've never had any practice. You couldn't really expect a person to pray very well the first time she tried, Could you? I thought out a splendid prayer after I went to bed, Just as I promised you I would. It was nearly as long as a minister's and so poetical. But would you believe it? I couldn't remember one word when I woke up this morning. And I'm afraid I'll never be able to think out another one as good. Somehow, Things never are so good when they're thought out a second time. Have you noticed that? Here is something for you to notice, Anne. When I tell you to do a thing, I want you to obey me at once, And not stand stock still and discourse about it. Just you go and do as I bid you. Anne promptly departed for the sitting room across the hall. She failed to return. After waiting 10 minutes, Marilla laid down her knitting. And marched after her with a grim expression. She found Anne standing motionless before a picture hanging on the wall between the two windows, With her eyes a star with dreams. The white and green light, Strained through apple trees and clustering vines outside, Fell over the wrapped little figure with a half-unearthly radiance. "'Anne, Whatever are you thinking of? ' demanded Marilla sharply. Anne came back to earth with a start. Fat. She said, Pointing to the picture. A rather vivid chromo entitled Christ Blessing Little Children. And I was just imagining. I was one of them. That I was the little girl in the blue dress standing off by herself in the corner as if she didn't belong to anybody like me. She looks. Lonely and sad, Don't you think? I guess she hadn't any father or mother of her own, But she wanted to be blessed too, So she just crept shyly up on the outside of the crowd, Hoping nobody would notice her, Except him. I'm sure I know just how she felt. Her heart must have beat and her hands must have got cold like mine did when I asked you if I could stay. She was afraid he mightn't notice her. But it's likely he did, Don't you think? I've been trying to imagine it all out, Her edging a little nearer all the time until she was quite close to him and then he would look at her and put his hand on her hair and oh such a thrill of joy as would run over her. But I wish the artist hadn't painted him so sorrowful looking. All his pictures are like that, If you've noticed. But I don't believe he could really have looked so sad. Or the children would have been afraid of him. "'Anne, ' said Marilla, Wondering why she had not broken into this speech long before, "'you shouldn't talk that way. '" It's irreverent. Positively irreverent. Anne's eyes marveled. Why, I felt just as reverent as could be. I'm sure I didn't mean to be irreverent. I don't suppose you did, But it doesn't sound right. To talk. So familiarly about such things. And another thing, Anne, When I send you after something, You're to bring it at once. And not fall into mooning and imagining before pictures. Remember that. Take that card and come right to the kitchen. Now, Sit down in the corner and learn that prayer off by heart. Ann set the card up against the jug full of apple blossoms she had brought in to decorate the dinner table. Marilla had eyed that decoration askance but had said nothing. Propped her chin on her hands and fell to studying it intently for several silent minutes. I like this, She announced at length. It's beautiful. I've heard it before. I heard the superintendent of the Asylum Sunday School say it over once. But I didn't like it then. He had such a cracked voice and he prayed it so mournfully. I really felt sure he thought praying was a disagreeable duty. Bis. Isn't poetry, But it makes me feel just the same way poetry does. Our Father, Who art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name. That is just like a line of music. I'm so glad you thought of making me learn this, Mr. . . Marilla. Well, Learn it, And hold your tongue, " said Marilla shortly. Anne tipped the vase of apple blossoms near enough to bestow a soft kiss on a pink-cupped bud, And then studied diligently for some moments longer. Marilla, She demanded presently, Do you think that I shall ever have a bosom friend in Avonlea? A what kind of friend? A bosom friend. An intimate friend, You know? A really kindred spirit to whom I can confide my inmost soul. I've dreamed of meeting her all my life. I never really supposed I would, But so many of my loveliest dreams have come true all at once that. . . Perhaps this one will too. Do you think it's possible? Diana Barry lives over at Orchard Slope and she's about your age. She's a very nice little girl and perhaps she will be a playmate for you when she comes home. She's visiting her aunt over at Kalmadi just now. You'll have to be careful. How you behave yourself though. Mrs Barry is a very particular woman. She won't let Diana play with any little girl who isn't nice and good. Anne looked at Marilla through the apple blossoms. Her eyes aglow with interest. What is Diana like? Her hair isn't red, Is it? Oh, I hope not. It's bad enough to have red hair myself, But I. . . Positively couldn't endure it. In a bosom friend. Diana is a very pretty little girl. She has black eyes and hair and rosy cheeks. And she is good and smart, Which is better than being pretty. Marilla was as fond of morals as the Duchess in Wonderland, And was firmly convinced that one should be tacked on to every remark made to a child who was being brought up. But Anne waved the moral inconsequently aside and seized only on the delightful possibilities before it. Oh, I'm so glad she's pretty. Next to being beautiful oneself, And that's impossible in my case, It would be best to have a beautiful bosom friend. When I lived with Mrs. Thomas, She had a bookcase in her sitting room with glass doors. There weren't any books in it. Mrs. Thomas kept her best china and her preserves there when she had any preserves to keep. One of the doors was broken. Mr. Thomas smashed it one night when he was slightly intoxicated, But the other was whole, And I used to pretend that my reflection in it was another little girl who lived in it. I called her Katie Maurice, And we were very intimate. I used to talk to her by the hour, Especially on Sunday and tell her everything. Katie was the comfort and consolation of my life. We used to pretend that the bookcase was enchanted and that if I only knew the spell, I could open the door and step right into the room where Katie Maurice lived, Instead of into Mrs. Thomas's shelves of preserves in China. And then Katie Maurice would have taken me by the hand and led me out into a wonderful place, All flowers and sunshine and fairies, And we would have lived there, Happy, Forever after, When I went to live with Mrs Hammond. It just broke my heart to leave Katie Maurice. She felt it dreadfully too. I know she did for she was crying when she kissed me goodbye through the bookcase door. There was no bookcase at Mrs Hammond's. But just up the river, A little way from the house, There was a long green little valley, And the loveliest Echo lived there. It echoed back every word you said, Even if you didn't talk a bit loud. So. . . I imagined that It was a little girl called Violetta. And we were great friends. I loved her almost as well as I loved Katie Maurice. Not quite, But almost, You know. The night before I went to the asylum, I said goodbye to be a letter. And oh, Her goodbye came back to me in such sad, Sad tones. I had become so attached to her, I hadn't the heart to imagine a bosom friend at the asylum, Even if there had been any scope for imagination there. I think it's just as well there wasn't, Said Marilla dryly. I don't approve of such goings-on. You seem to half-believe your own imaginations. It will be well for you to have a real live friend to put such nonsense out of your head. But don't let Mrs Barry hear you talking about your Katie Maurice's and your Violetta's or she'll think you tell stories. Oh, I won't. I couldn't talk of them to everybody. Their memories are. Too sacred for that, But. . . I thought I'd like to have you know about them. Oh! Look, Here's a big bee, Just tumbled out of an apple blossom. Just think, What a lovely place to live in an apple blossom. Fancy going to sleep in it. When the wind was rocking it. If I wasn't a human girl, I think I'd like to be a bee. And live among the flowers. Yesterday you wanted to be a seagull, Sniffed Marilla. I think you are very fickle-minded. I told you to learn that prayer and not talk. But it seems impossible for you to stop talking if you've got anybody that will listen to you. Go up to your room and learn it. I know it pretty nearly all now. All but just the last line. Well, Never mind. Do as I tell you. Go to your room and finish learning it well. And stay there until I call you down to help me get tea. Can I take the apple blossoms with me for company? Pleaded Anne. No. You don't want your room cluttered up with flowers. You should have left them on the tree in the first place. I did feel a little that way too, Said Anne. I kind of felt I shouldn't shorten their lovely lives by picking them. I wouldn't want to be picked if I were an apple blossom. But the temptation was irresistible. What do you do when you meet with an irresistible temptation? An. Did you? Hear me tell you to go to your room. Anne. Side. Retreated to the east gable and sat down in a chair by the window. There. I know this prayer. I learned that last sentence coming upstairs. Now. I'm going to imagine things into this room so that they'll always stay imagined. The floor is covered with a white velvet carpet with pink roses all over it. And there are pink silk curtains at the windows. The walls are hung with gold and silver brocade tapestry. The furniture is mahogany. I never saw any mahogany but it does sound so luxurious. This is a couch, All heaped with gorgeous silken cushions, Pink and blue and crimson and gold. And I am reclining gracefully on it. I can see my reflection in that splendid big mirror hanging on the wall. I am tall and regal, Clad in a gown of trailing white lace with a pearl cross on my breast and pearls in my hair. My hair is of midnight darkness and my skin is a clear ivory pallor. My name? Is the Lady Cordelia. Fitzgerald. No, It isn't. Can't make that seem real. She danced up to the little looking-glass and peered into it. Her pointed, Freckled face and solemn grey eyes peered back at her. You're only Anne of Green Gables, " she said earnestly. And I see you, Just as you are looking now, Whenever I try to imagine I'm the Lady Cordelia But it's a million times nicer to be Anne of Green Gables than Anne of nowhere in particular, Isn't it? She bent forward, Kissed her reflection affectionately, And betook herself to the open window. Dear Snow Queen, Good afternoon. And good afternoon, Dear birches down in the hollow. And good afternoon, Dear grey house up on the hill. I wonder if Diana is to be my bosom friend. I hope she will. And I shall love her very much. But I must never quite forget Katie Maurice and Violetta. They would feel so hurt if I did. And I'd hate to hurt anybody's feelings. Even little bookcase girls or little echo girls. I must be careful to remember them and send them a kiss every day. Anne blew a couple of airy kisses from her fingertips past the cherry blossoms. And then, With her chin in her hands, Drifted luxuriously out on a sea of daydreams. Chapter nine, Mrs. Rachel Lind is properly horrified. Anne had been a fortnight at Green Gables before Mrs. Linde arrived to inspect her. Mrs. Rachel, To do her justice, Was not to blame for this. A severe and unseasonable attack of gripe had confined that good lady to her house ever since the occasion of her last visit to Green Gables. Mrs Rachel was not often sick, And had a well-defined contempt for people who were. But gripe, She asserted, Was like no other illness on earth, And could only be interpreted as one of the special visitations of Providence. As soon as her doctor allowed her to put her foot out of doors, She hurried up to Green Gables, Bursting with curiosity to see Matthew and Marilla's orphan, Concerning whom all sorts of stories and suppositions had gone abroad in Avonlea. Anne had made good use of every waking moment of that fortnight. Already she was acquainted with every tree and shrub about the place. She had discovered that a lane opened out below the apple orchard and ran up through a belt of woodland. And she had explored it to its furthest end in all its delicious vagaries of brook and bridge, Fir coppice and wild cherry arch, Corners thick with fern, And branching byways of maple and mountain ash, She had made friends with the spring down in the hollow. That wonderful, Deep, Clear, Icy-cold spring. It was set about with smooth red sandstones, And rimmed in by great palm-like clumps of water fern, And beyond it was a log bridge over the brook. That bridge led Anne's dancing feet up over a wooded hill beyond, Where perpetual twilight reigned under the straight, Thick-growing firs and spruces. The only flowers there were myriads of delicate June-bells, Those shyest and sweetest of woodland blooms, And a few pale aerial star-flowers, Like the spirits of last year's blossoms. Gossamers glimmered like threads of silver among the trees, And the fir boughs and tassels seemed to utter friendly speech. All these raptured voyages of exploration. Were made in the odd half-hours which she was allowed for play, And Anne talked Matthew and Marilla half-deaf over her discoveries. Not that Matthew complained, To be sure. He listened to it all with a wordless smile of enjoyment on his face. Marilla permitted the chatter her, Until she found herself becoming too interested in it, Whereupon she always promptly quenched Anne by a curt command to hold her tongue. Anne was out in the orchard when Mrs Rachel came, Wandering at her own sweet will through the lush, Tremulous grasses splashed with ruddy evening sunshine. So, That good lady had an excellent chance to talk her illness fully over. Describing every ache and pulse beat with such evident enjoyment that Marilla thought even gripe must bring its compensations. When details were exhausted, Mrs Rachel introduced the real reason of her call. I've been hearing some surprising things about you and Matthew. I don't suppose you are any more surprised than I am myself, Said Marilla. I'm getting over my surprise now. It was too bad. There was such a mistake, Said Mrs Rachel sympathetically. Couldn't you have sent her back? I suppose we could, But we decided not to. Matthew took a fancy to her and I must say, I like her myself. Although I admit she has her faults. The house seems a different place already. She's a real bright little thing. Marilla said more than she had intended to say when she began, For she read disapproval in Mrs Rachel's expression. It's a great responsibility you've taken on yourself, Said that lady gloomily. Especially when you've never had any experience with children. You don't know much about her. Or her real disposition, I suppose. And there's no guessing how a child like that will turn out. But I don't want to discourage you, I'm sure, Marilla. I'm not feeling discouraged, Was Marilla's dry response. When I make up my mind to do a thing, It stays made up. I suppose you'd like to see Anne? I'll call her in. Anne came running in presently, Her face sparkling with the delight of her orchard rovings, But abashed at finding the delight herself in the unexpected presence of a stranger. She halted, Confusedly, Inside the door. She certainly was an odd-looking little creature in the short, Tight, Wincy dress she had worn from the asylum, Below which her thin legs seemed ungracefully long. Her freckles were more numerous and obtrusive than ever. The wind had ruffled her hatless hair into over brilliant disorder. It had never looked redder than at that moment. Well. They didn't pick you for your looks. That's sure and certain. Was Mrs Rachel Lynn's emphatic comment. Mrs Rachel was one of those delightful and popular people who pride themselves on speaking their mind without fear or favour. She's terrible skinny and homely, Marilla. Come here, Child. Let me have a look at you. Lawful heart. Did anyone ever see such freckles? And hair as red as carrots. Come here, Child, I say. Anne came there, But not exactly as Mrs Rachel expected. With one bound, She crossed the kitchen floor and stood before Mrs Rachel, Her face scarlet with anger, Her lips quivering, And her whole slender form trembling from head to foot. I hate you, She cried in a choked voice, Stamping her foot on the floor. On the floor. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. A louder stamp with each assertion of hatred. How dare you call me skinny and ugly? How dare you say I'm freckled and redheaded? You are a rude, Impolite, Unfeeling, Woman. Man! Exclaimed Marilla in consternation. But Anne. . . Continued to face Mrs Rachel undauntedly, Head up, Eyes blazing, Hands clenched, Passionate indignation exhaling from her like an atmosphere. How? DARE YOU! Say such things about me! She repeated vehemently. How would you like to have such things said about you? How would you like to be told that you are. . . Fat and clumsy and. . . Probably hasn't a spark of imagination in you. I don't care if I do hurt your feelings by saying so. I hope I hurt them. You have hurt mine worse than they were ever hurt before. Even by Mrs Thomas's intoxicated husband. And I'll never forgive you for it. Never. NEVER! Stamp stamp Anybody! For see such a temper exclaimed the horrified mrs. Rachel Anne. Go to your room. And stay there until I come up. Said Marilla, Recovering her powers of speech with difficulty. Anne, Bursting into tears, Rushed to the hall door, Slammed it until the tins on the porch wall outside rattled in sympathy, And fled through the hall and up the stairs like a whirlwind. A subdued slam above told that the door of the east gable had been shut with equal vehemence. Well, I don't envy you your job bringing that up, Marilla. Said Mrs Rachel with unspeakable solemnity. Marilla opened her lips to say, She knew not what of apology or deprecation. What she did say was a surprise to herself then and ever afterwards. You shouldn't have tweeted her about her looks, Rachel. Marilla Cuthbert. You don't mean to say. That you are upholding her. In such a terrible display of temper, As we've just seen, " demanded Mrs Rachel indignantly. No, Said Marilla slowly. I'm not trying to excuse her. She's been very naughty and I'll have to give her a talking to about it but we must make allowances for her. She's never been taught what is right. And you were too hard on her, Rachel. Marilla could not help tacking on that last sentence, Although she was again surprised at herself for doing it. Mrs Rachel got up with an air of offended dignity. Well, I see that I'll have to be very careful what I say after this, Marilla. Since the fine feelings of orphans brought from goodness knows where have to be considered before anything else. Oh no! I'm not vexed. Don't worry yourself. I'm too sorry for you to leave any room for anger in my mind. You'll have your own troubles with that child. But if you'll take my advice, Which I suppose you won't do, Although I've brought up ten children and buried two, You'll do that talking to, You mention, With a fair-sized birch switch. I should think that be the most effective language for that kind of a child. Her temper matches her hair, I guess. Well, Good evening, Marilla. I hope you'll come down to see me, Often, As usual. But you can't expect me to visit here again in a hurry, If I'm liable to be flown at and insulted in such a fashion. It's something new, In my experience. Whereat Mrs Rachel swept out and away. If a fat woman who always waddled could be said to sweep away. And Marilla, With a very solemn face. Betook herself to the East Gable. On the way upstairs, She pondered uneasily as to what she ought to do. She felt no little dismay over the scene that had just been enacted. How unfortunate that Anne should have displayed such temper. Before Mrs. Rachel Lind, Of all people. Then, Marilla suddenly became aware of an uncomfortable and rebuking consciousness that she felt more humiliation over this than sorrow over the discovery of such a serious defect in Anne's disposition. How was she to punish her? The amiable suggestion of the Birch switch, To the efficiency of which all of Mrs Rachel's own children could have borne smarting testimony, Did not appeal to Marilla. She did not believe she could whip a child. No. Some other method of punishment must be found to bring Anne to a proper realisation of the enormity of her offence. Marilla found Anne, Face downward on her bed, Crying bitterly, Quite oblivious of muddy boots on a clean counterpane. Anne, She said not un-gently. No answer. And with greater severity. Get off that bed this minute. And listen to what I have to say to you. Anne squirmed off the bed. And sat rigidly on a chair beside it, Her face swollen and tear-stained, And her eyes fixed stubbornly on the floor. This is a nice way for you to behave. Ahem. Aren't you ashamed of yourself? She hadn't any right to call me ugly and red-headed, Retorted Anne, Evasive and defiant. You hadn't any right to fly into such a fury. And talk the way you did to her, Anne. I was ashamed of you. Thoroughly ashamed of you. I wanted you to behave nicely to Mrs Lind and instead of that you have disgraced me. I'm sure I don't know why you should lose your temper like that just because Mrs Lind said you were red-haired and homely. You say it yourself, Often enough. But there's such a difference. Between saying a thing yourself and hearing other people say it? " wailed Anne. You may know a thing is so, But you can't help hoping. Other people don't. Quite think it is. I suppose you think I have an awful temper. Help it when she said those things? Something just rose right up in me and choked me. I had to fly out at her. Well, You made a fine exhibition of yourself, I must say. Mrs Lind will have a nice story to tell about you everywhere, And she'll tell it too. It was a dreadful thing for you to lose your temper like that, Anne. Just imagine how you would feel if somebody told you to your face. That you were skinny and ugly, " pleaded Anne tearfully. An old remembrance suddenly rose up before Marilla. She had been a very small child. When she had heard one aunt say of her to another, What a pity she is such a dark, Homely, Little thing. Marilla was every day of fifty before the sting had gone out of that memory. I don't say that I think Mrs. Lynde was exactly right in saying what she did to you, Anne, " she admitted in a softer tone. Rachel is too outspoken. But that is no excuse for such behaviour on your part. She was a stranger and an elderly person and my visitor. All three very good reasons why you should have been respectful to her. You were rude and saucy and. . . Marilla had a saving inspiration of punishment. You must go to her and tell her you are very sorry for your bad temper and ask her to forgive you. "'I can never do that, ' said Anne determinedly and darkly. "'You can punish me in any way you like, Marilla. "'You can shut me up in a dark, Damp dungeon "'inhabited by snakes and toads "'and feed me only on bread and water And I shall not complain, But I cannot ask Mrs Linde to forgive me. We're not in the habit of shutting people up in dark, Damp dungeons, Said Marilla dryly, Especially as they're rather scarce in Avonlea. But, Apologize to Mrs. Lind, You must and shall. And you'll stay here in your room until you can tell me you're willing to do it. I shall have to stay here forever then, " said Anne, Mournfully, I can't tell Mrs. Lynde I'm sorry. I said those things to her. How can I? I'm not sorry. I'm sorry I've vexed you, But I'm glad I told her just what I did. It was a great satisfaction. I can't say I'm sorry when I'm not, Can I? I can't even imagine. I'm sorry. Perhaps your imagination will be in better working order by the morning, Said Marilla, Rising to depart. You'll have the night to think over your conduct in, And come to a better frame of mind. You said you would try to be a very good girl if we kept you at Green Gables, But I must say it hasn't seemed very much like it this evening. Leaving this Parthian shaft to rankle in Anne's stormy bosom, Marilla descended to the kitchen, Grievously troubled in mind and vexed in soul. She was as angry with herself as with Anne, Because whenever she recalled Mrs Rachel's dumbfounded countenance, Her lips twitched with amusement. And she felt a most reprehensible desire. To laugh. Chapter 10 Anne's Apology Marilla said nothing to Matthew about the affair that evening, But when Anne proved still refractory the next morning, An explanation had to be made to account for her absence from the breakfast table. Marilla told Matthew the whole story, Taking pains to impress him with a due sense of the enormity of Anne's behaviour. It's a good thing Rachel Lind got a calling down. She's a meddlesome old gossip. Was Matthew's consolatory rejoinder. Matthew Cuthbert. I'm astonished at you. You know that Anne's behaviour was dreadful. And yet, You take her part? I suppose you'll be saying next thing that she oughtn't to be punished at all. Well now no not exactly said Matthew uneasily i reckon she ought to be punished a little But don't be too hard on her, Marilla. Recollect she hasn't ever had anyone to teach her right. You're You're going to give her something to eat, Aren't you? When did you ever hear of me starving people into good behaviour? Demanded Marilla indignantly. She'll have her meals regular. And I'll carry them up to her myself. But she'll stay up there until she's willing to apologize to Mrs. Lind. And that's final, Matthew. Breakfast, Dinner and supper were very silent meals. For Anne still remained obdurate. After each meal, Marilla carried a well-filled tray to the East Gable, And brought it down later on, Not noticeably depleted. Matthew eyed its last descent with a troubled eye. Had Anne eaten anything at all? When Marilla went out that evening to bring the cows from the back pasture, Matthew, Who had been hanging about the barns and watching, Slipped into the house with the air of a burglar and crept upstairs. As a general thing, Matthew gravitated between the kitchen and the little bedroom off the hall where he slept. Once in a while he ventured uncomfortably into the parlour or sitting room. When the minister came to tea. But he had never been upstairs in his own house since the spring he helped Marilla paper the spare bedroom. And that was four years ago. He tiptoed along the hall. And stood for several minutes outside the door of the East Gable before he summoned courage to tap on it with his fingers and then open the door to peep in. Anne was sitting on the yellow chair by the window, Gazing mournfully out into the garden. Very small and unhappy, She looked. And Matthew's heart smote him. He softly closed the door and tiptoed over to her. Ann, " he whispered, As if afraid of being overheard. How are you making it, Ann? Anne smiled wanly. Pretty well. I imagine a good deal. And that helps to pass the time. Of course it's rather lonesome. But then. . . I may as well get used to that. Anne smiled again, Bravely facing the long years of solitary imprisonment before her Matthew recollected that he must say what he had come to say without loss of time, Lest Marilla return prematurely. Well now, Anne, Don't you think you'd better do it, And Have it over with, He whispered. It'll have to be done, Sooner or later, You know, For Marilla's a dreadful, Determined woman. Red full determined, Anne. Do it right off, I say. Habit over. Do you mean apologize to Mrs Lind? Yes, Apologize. That's the very word, Said Matthew eagerly. Just Smooth it over, So to speak. That's what I was trying to get at. I suppose i could do it to oblige you said anne thoughtfully It would be true enough to say, I am sorry, Because I am sorry now. I wasn't a bit sorry. Last night, I was mad clear through. And I stayed mad all night. I know I did because I woke up three times and I was just. . . Furious. Every time. This morning. It was over. I wasn't in a temper anymore. And It left a dreadful sort of. . . Gone-ness too. I felt so ashamed of myself. But I just couldn't think of going and telling Mrs. Lynde so. It would be so humiliating. I made up my mind I'd stay shut up here forever rather than do that. Still, I'd do anything for you. If you really want me to. Well, Now. . . Of course I do. It's terrible, Lonesome downstairs without you. Just go and do it. Smooth things over. That's a good girl. Very well, Said Anne resignedly. I'll tell Marilla as soon as she comes in. I've repented. That's right. That's right, Anne. But don't tell Marilla I said anything about it. She might think I was putting my oar in, And I promised not to do that. Wild horses won't drag the secret from me, Promised Anne solemnly. How would wild horses drag a secret from a person anyhow? But Matthew. . . Was gone, Scared at his own success. He fled hastily to the remotest corner of the horse pasture, Lest Marilla should suspect what he had been up to. Marilla herself. Upon her return to the house, Was agreeably surprised to hear a plaintive voice calling Marilla over the banisters. Well, She said, Going into the hall. I'm sorry I lost my temper and said rude things, And I'm willing to go and tell Mrs Lind so. Very well. Marilla's crispness gave no sign of her relief. She had been wondering what under the canopy she should do if Anne did not give in. I'll take you down after milking. Accordingly, After milking, Behold, Marilla and Anne walking down the lane, The former erect and triumphant, The latter drooping and dejected. But halfway down, Anne's dejection vanished as if by enchantment. She lifted her head and stepped lightly along, Her eyes fixed on the sunset sky and an air of subdued exhilaration about her. Marilla beheld the change disapprovingly. This was no meek penitent, Such as it behooved her to take into the presence of the offended Mrs Linde. What are you thinking of, Anne? She asked sharply. I'm imagining out what I must say to Mrs Lind, Answered Anne dreamily. This was satisfactory, Or should have been so, But Marilla could not rid herself of the notion that something in her scheme of punishment was going askew. Anne had no business to look so rapt and radiant. Wrapped and radiant, Anne continued, Until they were in the very presence of Mrs Linde, Who was sitting knitting by her kitchen window. Then, The radiance vanished. Mournful penitence appeared on every feature. Before a word was spoken, Anne suddenly went down on her knees before the astonished Mrs Rachel and held out her hands beseechingly. Oh, Mrs. Lynde, I am so extremely sorry, She said with a quiver in her voice. I could never express all my sorrow. No. Not if I used up a whole dictionary. You must just. . . Imagine it. I behaved. Terribly to you. And I've disgraced the dear friends, Matthew and Marilla, Who have let me stay at Green Gables, Although I'm not a boy. I'm a dreadfully wicked and ungrateful girl. And I deserve to be punished and cast out by respectable people forever. It was very wicked of me to fly into a temper because you told me truth. It was the truth. Every word you said was true. My hair is red. And I'm freckled. And skinny. And ugly. What I said to you was true too, But. . . I shouldn't have said it. Oh, Mrs. Lynde, Please, Please forgive me. If you refuse, It will be a lifelong sorrow on a poor little orphan girl. Would you? Even if she had a dreadful temper. Oh i am sure you wouldn't please say you forgive me mrs lynde Anne clasped her hands together, Bowed her head, And waited for the word of judgment. There was no mistaking her sincerity. It breathed in every tone of her voice. Both Marilla and Mrs Lind recognized its unmistakable ring. But the former. . . Understood in dismay that Anne was actually enjoying her valley of humiliation. Was reveling. In the thoroughness of her abasement. Where was the wholesome punishment upon which she, Marilla, Had plumed herself? Anne had turned it into a species of positive pleasure. Good Mrs. Lynde, Not being overburdened with perception, Did not see this. She only perceived that Anne had made a very thorough apology. And all resentment vanished from her kindly, If somewhat officious, Heart. There, There. Get up, Child, She said heartily. Of course. I forgive you. I guess I was a little too hard on you, Anyway. But I'm such an outspoken person. You just mustn't mind me, That's what. It can't be denied, Your hair is terrible red. But I knew a girl once, Went to school with her in fact, Whose hair was every mite as red as yours when she was young, But when she grew up it darkened to a real handsome auburn. I wouldn't be a mite surprised if yours did too. Not a mite. Oh. Mrs. Lynde. Anne drew a long breath as she rose to her feet. You have given me a hope. I shall always feel that you are a benefactor. Oh, I could endure anything. If I only thought my hair. . . Be a handsome Auburn when I grew up. It would be so much easier to be good if one's hair was a handsome auburn, Don't you think? And now, May I go out into your garden and sit on that bench under the apple trees while you and Marilla are talking? There is so much more scope for imagination out there. Laws, Yes. Run along, Child. And you can pick a bouquet of them white dune lilies over in the corner if you like. As the door closed behind Anne, Mrs Linde got briskly up to light a lamp. She's a real odd little thing. Take this chair, Marilla. It's easier than the one you've got. I just keep that for the hired boy to sit on. Yes. She certainly is an odd child. But there is something kind of. . . Taking about her after all? I don't feel so surprised at you and Matthew keeping her as I did. Nor so sorry for you either. She may turn out alright. Of course, She has a queer way of expressing herself. A little too. . . Well, To kind of. . . Forcible, You know? But she'll likely get over that, Now that she's come to live among civilised folks. And then her temper's pretty quick, I guess. But there's one comfort. A child that has a quick temper, Just blaze up and cool down, Ain't never likely to be sly or deceitful. Preserve me from a sly child. That's what. On the whole, Marilla. . . I kind of like her. When Marilla went home, Anne came out of the fragrant twilight of the orchard with a sheaf of white narcissi in her hands. I apologised pretty well, Didn't I? ' she said proudly as they went down the lane. I thought since I had to do it, I might as well do it thoroughly. You did it thoroughly, Alright enough, Was Marilla's comment. Marilla was dismayed at finding herself inclined to laugh over the recollection. She had also an uneasy feeling that She ought to scold Anne for. . . Apologizing so well? But then. . . That was ridiculous. She compromised with her conscience by saying, Severely, I hope you won't have occasion to make many more such apologies. I hope you'll try to control your temper now, Anne. That wouldn't be so hard if people wouldn't tweet me about my looks, Said Anne with a sigh. I don't get cross about other things, But I'm so tired of being tweeted about my hair and it just makes me boil right over. Do you suppose my hair will really be a handsome auburn when I grow up? You shouldn't think so much about your looks, Anne. I'm afraid you are a very vain little girl. How can I be vain? When I know I'm homely. Protested Anne. I love pretty things and I hate to look in the glass and see something that isn't pretty. It makes me feel so sorrowful. Just as I feel when I look at any ugly thing. I pity it, Because it isn't beautiful. Handsome is as handsome does, Quoted Marilla. I've had that said to me before, But I have my doubts about it, " remarked sceptical Anne, Sniffing at her nice sissy. Oh, Aren't these flowers sweet? It was lovely of Mrs. Lynde to give them to me. I have no hard feelings against Mrs Lind now. It gives you a lovely, Comfortable feeling to apologize and be forgiven, Doesn't it? Aren't the stars bright tonight? If you could live in a star, Which one would you pick? I'd like that lovely, Clear, Big one. Away over there, Above that dark hill. "'Anne, Do hold your tongue, ' said Marilla, Thoroughly worn out, Trying to follow the gyrations of Anne's thoughts. Anne said no more, Until they turned into their own lane. A little gypsy wind came down it to meet them, Laden with the spicy perfume of young dew-wet ferns. Far up in the shadows, A cheerful light gleamed out through the trees from the kitchen at Green Gables. Anne suddenly came close to Marilla and slipped her hand into the older woman's hard palm. It's lovely to be going home and know it's home, " she said. I love green gables already. And I never loved any place before. No place ever seemed like home. Oh Marilla. I'm so happy. I could pray right now and not find it a bit hard. Something warm and pleasant welled up in Marilla's heart at touch of that thin little hand in her own palm. A throb of the maternity she had missed, Perhaps. Its very unaccustomedness and sweetness disturbed her. She hastened to restore her sensations to their normal calm by inculcating a moral. If you'll be a good girl, You'll always be happy Anne. And you should never find it hard to say your prayers. Saying one's prayers isn't exactly the same thing as praying, Said Anne meditatively, But I'm going to imagine that I'm the wind that is blowing up there in those treetops. When I get tired of the trees, I'll imagine I'm gently waving down here in the ferns. And then I'll fly over to Mrs. Lynn's garden and set the flowers dancing. And then I'll go with one great swoop over the clover field. And then I'll blow over the lake of shining waters and ripple it all up into little sparkling waves. There's so much scope for imagination in a wind. So, I'll not talk anymore, Just now, Marilla. Thanks be to goodness for that, Breathed Marilla in devout relief. Chapter 11. Anne's impressions of Sunday School. Well, How do you like them? " said Marilla. Anne was standing in the gable room looking solemnly at three new dresses spread out on the bed. One was of snuffy-coloured gingham, Which Marilla had been tempted to buy from a peddler the preceding summer because it looked so serviceable. One was of black-and-white chequered sateen, Which she had picked up at a bargain counter in the winter. And one was a stiff print of an ugly blue shade, Which she had purchased that week at a Carmody store. She had made them up herself, And they were all made alike. Plain skirts fold tightly to plain waists, With sleeves as plain as waist and skirt, And tight as sleeves could be. I'll. . . Imagine that I like them, " said Anne soberly. I don't want you to imagine it, " said Marilla, Offended. I can see you don't like the dresses. What is the matter with them? Aren't they neat and clean and new? Yes. Then why don't you like them? There. The knot. Pretty, Said Anne, Reluctantly. Pretty, Marilla sniffed. I didn't trouble my head about getting pretty dresses for you. I don't believe in pampering vanity, Anne. I'll tell you that right off. Those dresses are good, Sensible, Serviceable dresses. Without any frills or fur blows about them. And they're all you'll get this summer. The brown gingham and the blue print will do you for school when you begin to go. The sateen is for church and Sunday school. I'll expect you to keep them neat and clean and not to tear them. I should think you'd be grateful to get most anything after those skimpy wincy things you've been wearing. I am grateful, Protested Anne, But I'd be ever so much grateful-er if. . . If. . . You'd made just one of them? With puffed sleeves? Puffed sleeves are so fashionable now. It would give me such a thrill, Marilla, Just to wear a dress with puffed sleeves. Well, You'll have to do without your thrill. I hadn't any material to waste on puffed sleeves. I think they are ridiculous looking things. Anyhow, I prefer the plain, Sensible ones. But I'd rather look ridiculous when everybody else does than plain and sensible all by myself, Persisted Anne, Mournfully. Trust you for that. Hang those dresses carefully up in your closet and then sit down and learn the Sunday School lesson. I got a quarterly from Mr Bell for you, And you'll go to Sunday school tomorrow, " said Marilla, Disappearing downstairs in high dudgeon. Anne clasped her hands and looked at the dresses. I did hope. There would be a white one. With puffed sleeves. She whispered disconsolately. I prayed for one. But I didn't much expect it on that account. I didn't suppose God would have time to bother about a little orphan girl's dress. I knew I'd just have to depend on Marilla for it. Well. . . Fortunately, I can imagine that one of them is of snow white muslin with lovely lace frills and three puffed sleeves. The next morning, Warnings of a sick headache prevented Marilla from going to Sunday school with Anne. You'll have to go down and call for Mrs. Lynde, Anne, " she said. She'll see that you get into the right class. Now, Mind you behave yourself properly. Stay to preaching afterwards and ask Mrs Lind to show you our pew. Here's a cent for collection. Don't stare at people and don't fidget. I shall expect you to tell me the text when you come home. Anne started off, Irreproachable, Arrayed in the stiff black and white sateen. Which, While decent as regards length, And certainly not open to the charge of skimpiness, Contrived to emphasise every corner and angle of her thin figure. Her hat was a little, Flat, Glossy new sailor, The extreme plainness of which had Likewise, Much disappointed Anne, Who had permitted herself secret visions of ribbon and flowers. The latter, However, Were supplied before Anne reached the main road for, Being confronted halfway down the lane with a golden frenzy of wind-stirred buttercups and a glory of wild roses, Anne promptly and liberally garlanded her hat with a heavy wreath of them. Whatever other people might have thought of the result. It satisfied Anne, And she tripped gaily down the road, Holding her ruddy head with its decoration of pink and yellow, Very proudly. When she had reached Mrs. Lynn's house, She found that lady gone. Nothing daunted, Anne proceeded onward to the church alone. In the porch she found a crowd of little girls, All more or less gaily attired in whites and blues and pinks, And all staring with curious eyes at this stranger in their midst, With her Extraordinary head adornment. Avonlea Little Girls had already heard queer stories about Anne. Mrs Lin said she had an awful temper. Jerry Bewatt. The hired boy at Green Gables said she talked all the time. To herself. Or to the trees and flowers. Like a crazy girl. They looked at her. And whispered to each other. Behind their quarterlies. Nobody made any friendly advances. Then, Or later on, When the opening exercises were over, An Anne found herself in Miss Rogerson's class. Miss Rogerson was a middle-aged lady who had taught a Sunday school class for 20 years. Her method of teaching was to ask the printed questions from the quarterly and look sternly over its edge at the particular little girl she thought ought to answer the question. She looked very often at Anne. And Anne, Thanks to Marilla's drilling, Answered promptly. But it may be questioned if she understood very much about either question or answer. She did not think she liked Miss Rogerson. And she felt very miserable. Every other little girl in the class had puffed sleeves. Anne felt that life was really not worth living without puffed sleeves. Well, How did you like Sunday school? Marilla wanted to know when Anne came home. Her wreath having faded, Anne had discarded it in the lane, So Marilla was spared the knowledge of that for a time. I didn't like it a bit. It was horrid. Anne sat down on the rocker with a long sigh. Kissed one of Bonnie's leaves and waved her hand to a blossoming fuchsia. They might have been lonesome while I was away, " she explained. And now about the Sunday school. I behaved well, Just as you told me. Mrs. Lynde was gone, But I went right on myself. I went into the church with a lot of other little girls and I sat in the corner of a pew by the window while the opening exercises went on. Mr Bell made an awfully long prayer. I would have been dreadfully tired before he got through if I hadn't been sitting by that window. But it looked right out on the lake of shining waters. So I just gazed at that and imagined all sorts of splendid things. You shouldn't have done anything of the sort. You should have listened to Mr. Bell. He wasn't talking to me, Protested Anne. He was talking to God. And he didn't seem to be very much interested in it either. I think he thought God was too far off though. There was a long row of white birches hanging over the lake. And the sunshine fell down through them. Way, Way down, Deep into the water. Oh, Marilla. It was like a beautiful dream. It gave me a thrill. And I just said, Thank you for it, God, Two or three times. Not out loud, I hope, Said Marilla anxiously. Oh no, Just under my breath. Well, Mr Bell did get through at last and they told me to go into the classroom with Miss Rogerson's class. There were nine other girls in it. They all had puffed sleeves. I tried to imagine mine were puffed too, But I couldn't. Why couldn't I? It was as easy as could be to imagine they were puffed when I was alone in the East Gable, But it was awfully hard there, Among the others who had really, Truly puffs. You shouldn't have been thinking about your sleeves in Sunday school. You should have been attending to the lesson. I hope you knew it. Oh yes, And I answered a lot of the questions Miss Rogerson asked, Ever so many. I don't think it was fair for her to do all the asking. There were lots I wanted to ask her. But I didn't like to because I didn't think she was a kindred spirit. Then all the other little girls recited a paraphrase. She asked me if I knew any. I told her I didn't, But I could recite the dog at his master's grave if she liked. That's in the third Royal Reader. It isn't a really truly religious piece of poetry but it's so sad and melancholy that it might as well be. She said it wouldn't do and she told me to learn the 19th paraphrase for next Sunday. I read it over in church afterwards and it's splendid. There are two lines in particular that just thrill me. Quick as the slaughtered squadrons fell in Midian's evil day. I don't know what Squadrons means, Nor Midian either, But it sounds so tragical. I can hardly wait until next Sunday to recite it. I'll practice it all the week. After Sunday school, I asked Miss Rogerson, Because Mrs. Lind was too far away, To show me your pew. I sat just as still as I could. And the text was Revelations, Third chapter, Second and third verses. It was a very long text. If I was a minister, I'd pick the short, Snappy ones. The sermon was awfully long too. I suppose the minister had to match it to the text. I didn't think he was a bit interesting. The trouble with him seems to be that he hasn't enough imagination. I didn't listen to him very much. I just let my thoughts run and I thought of the most surprising things. Marilla felt helplessly that all this should be sternly reproved. But. . . She was hampered. By the undeniable fact that some of the things Anne had said, Especially about the minister's sermons and Mr Bell's prayers, Were what she herself had really thought, Deep down in her heart, For years. But had never given expression to. It almost seemed to her. That those secret, Unuttered, Critical thoughts had suddenly taken visible and accusing shape and form in the person of this outspoken morsel of neglected humanity. Chapter 12 A Solemn Vow and Promise It was not until the next Friday that Marilla heard the story of the flower-wreathed hat. She came home from Mrs Lynn's and called Anne to account. Anne. Mrs Rachel says you went to church last Sunday with your hat rigged out ridiculous with roses and buttercups. What. On. Earth. Put you up to such a caper. A pretty looking object you must have been. Oh! I know pink and yellow aren't becoming to me, Began Anne. Becoming? Fiddlesticks! It was putting flowers on your hat at all. No matter what colour they were. That was ridiculous. You are the most aggravating child. I don't see why it's any more ridiculous to wear flowers on your hat than on your dress, Protested Anne. Lots of little girls there had bouquets pinned on their dresses. What's the difference? Marilla was not to be drawn from the safe concrete into dubious paths of the abstract. Don't answer me back like that, Anne. It was very silly of you to do such a thing. Never let me catch you at such a trick again. Mrs Rachel says she thought she would sink through the floor when she saw you come in all rigged out like that. She couldn't get near enough to tell you to take them off till it was too late. She says people talked about it. Something dreadful. Of course, They would think I had no better sense than to let you go decked out like that. I'm so sorry, Said Anne, Tears welling into her eyes. I never thought you'd mind. The roses and buttercups were so sweet and pretty. I thought they'd look lovely on my hat. Lots of the little girls had artificial flowers on their hats. I'm afraid I'm going to be a dreadful trial to you. Maybe you'd better send me back to the asylum. That would be terrible. I don't think I could endure it. Most likely I would go into consumption. I'm so thin as it is, You see, But. . . That would be better than being a trial to you. Nonsense, " said Marilla, Vexed at herself for having made the child cry. I don't want to send you back to the asylum, I'm sure. All I want is that you should behave like other little girls. And not make yourself ridiculous. Don't cry anymore. I've got some news for you. Diana Barry came home this afternoon. I'm going up to see if I can borrow a skirt pattern from Mrs Barry and If you like, You can come with me and get acquainted with Diana. Anne rose to her feet with clasped hands, The tears still glistening on her cheeks, The dish towel she had been hemming slipped unheeded to the floor. Oh! Marilla! I'm frightened. Now that it has come, I'm. . . Actually frightened. What if. . . She shouldn't like me. It would be the most tragical disappointment of my life. Now, Don't get into a fluster. And I do wish you wouldn't use such long words. It sounds so funny in a little girl. I guess Diana'll like you well enough. It's her mother you've got to reckon with. If she doesn't like you, It won't matter how much Diana does. If she has heard about your outburst to Mrs Lind and going to church with buttercups round your hat. I don't know what she'll think of you. You must be polite and well-behaved. And don't make any of your startling speeches. Oh, For pity's sake, If the child isn't actually trembling! Anne was trembling. Her face was pale and tense. Oh, Marilla, You'd be excited too if you were going to meet a little girl you hoped to be your bosom friend. And whose mother mightn't like you, She said, As she hastened to get her hat. They went over to Orchard Slope by the short cut, Across the brook and up the furry hill grove. Mrs Barry came to the kitchen door in answer to Marilla's knock. She was a tall, Black-eyed, Black-haired woman with a very resolute mouth. She had the reputation of being very strict with her children. How do you do, Marilla? She said cordially. Come in. And this is the little girl you have adopted, I suppose? Yes, This is Anne Shirley, Said Marilla. Spelled with an E, Gasped Anne, Who, Tremulous and excited as she was, Was determined there should be no misunderstanding on that important point. Mrs Barry, Not hearing or not comprehending, Merely shook hands and said kindly, How are you? I am well in body, Although Considerable rumpled up in spirit. Thank you, Ma'am, Said Anne gravely. Then aside to Marilla in an audible whisper. There wasn't anything startling in that, Was there, Marilla? Diana was sitting on the sofa reading a book, Which she dropped when the callers entered. She was a very pretty little girl, With her mother's black eyes and hair, And rosy cheeks, And the Merry expression, Which was her inheritance from her father. This is my little girl, Diana, " said Mrs Barry. Diana, You might take Anne out into the garden and show her your flowers. It will be better for you than straining your eyes over that book. She reads entirely too much. This to Marilla as the little girls went out. And I can't prevent her for her father aids and abets her. She's always poring over a book. I'm glad she has the prospect of a playmate. Perhaps it will take her more out of doors. Outside, In the garden, Which was full of mellow sunset light, Streaming through the dark old firs to the west of it, Stood Anne and Diana, Gazing bashfully at each other over a clump of gorgeous tiger lilies. The Barry Garden was a powery wilderness of flowers, Which would have delighted Anne's heart at any time less fraught with destiny. It was encircled by huge old willows and tall firs, Beneath which flourished flowers that loved the shade. Prim, Right-angled paths, Neatly bordered with clamshells, Intersected it like moist red ribbons. And in the beds between, Old-fashioned flowers ran riot. There were rosy, Bleeding hearts, And great, Splendid crimson peonies. White, Fragrant narcissi, And thorny, Sweet scotch roses, Pink and blue and white columbines, And lilac-tinted bouncing bets, Clumps of southern wood, And ribbon grass, And mint, Purple adam and eve, Daffodils, And masses of sweet clover, White with its delicate, Fragrant, Feathery sprays. Scarlet lightning that shot its fiery lances over prim white muskflowers. A garden it was where sunshine lingered, And bees hummed, And winds, Beguiled into loitering, Purred and rustled. Oh, Diana, Said Anne at last, Clasping her hands and speaking almost in a whisper. Do you think you can like me a little? Enough to be my bosom friend? Diana. Loved. Diana always laughed before she spoke. Why, I guess so, She said frankly. I'm awfully glad you've come to live at Green Gables. It will be jolly to have somebody to play with. There isn't any other girl who lives near enough to play with. And I've no sisters big enough. Will you swear to be my friend forever and ever? Demanded Anne eagerly. Diana looked shocked. Why? It's dreadfully wicked to swear, She said rebukingly. Oh, No, Not my kind of swearing. There are two kinds, You know. I never heard of but one kind said diana doubtfully there really is another oh it isn't wicked at all it just means Vowing. And promising, Solemnly. Well, I don't mind doing that, Agreed Diana, Relieved. How do you do it? We must join hands so, Said Anne gravely, It ought to be over running water. We'll just imagine this path is running water. I'll repeat the oath first. I solemnly swear to be faithful to my bosom friend Diana Barry as long as the sun and moon shall endure. Now you say it and put my name in. Diana repeated the oath with a laugh fore and aft. Then she said, You're a queer girl, Anne. I heard before that you were queer, But I believe I'm going to like you real well. When Marilla and Anne went home, Diana went with them as far as the log bridge. The two little girls walked with their arms about each other. At the brook they parted with many promises to spend the next afternoon together. Well, Did you find Diana a kindred spirit? Asked Marilla as they went up through the garden of Green Gables. Oh, Yes! Sighed Anne, Blissfully unconscious of any sarcasm on Marilla's part. Oh, Marilla! I'm the happiest girl on Prince Edward Island this very moment. I assure you I'll say my prayers with a right goodwill tonight. Diana and I are going to build a playhouse in Mr. William Bell's birch grove tomorrow. Can I have those broken pieces of china that are out in the woodshed? Diana's birthday is in February and mine is in March. Don't you think that is a very strange coincidence? Diana is going to lend me a book to read. It's perfectly splendid and tremendously exciting. She's going to show me a place back in the woods where rice lilies grow. Don't you think Diana has got very soulful eyes? I wish I had soulful eyes. Diana is going to teach me to sing a song called Nelly in the Hazel Dell. She's going to give me a picture to put up in my room. It's a perfectly beautiful picture, She says. A lovely lady in a pale blue silk dress. A sewing machine agent gave it to her. I wish I had something to give Diana. I'm an inch taller than Diana, But she is ever so much fatter. She says she'd like to be thin because it's so much more graceful, But I'm afraid she only said it to soothe my feelings. We're going to the shore someday to gather shells. We have agreed to call the spring down by the log bridge the Dryad's Bubble. Isn't that a perfectly Elegant name. I read a story once about a spring called that. A dryad is a sort of a grown-up fairy, I think. Well, All I hope is you won't talk Diana to death, Said Marilla. But remember this in all your planning, Anne. You're not going to play all the time, Nor most of it. You'll have your work to do, And it'll have to be done first. Anne's cup of happiness was full. And Matthew caused it to overflow. He had just got home from a trip to the store at Carmody and he sheepishly produced a small parcel from his pocket and handed it to Anne with a deprecatory look at Marilla. I heard you say you liked chocolate sweeties, So I got you some, He said. Sniffed Marilla. It'll ruin her teeth and stomach. There, There, Child. Don't look so dismal. You can eat those, Since Matthew has gone and got them. He'd better have brought you peppermints. They're wholesomer. Don't sicken yourself eating all them at once now. Oh, No, Indeed I won't, Said Anne eagerly. I'll just eat one tonight, Marilla, And I can give Diana half of them, Can't I? The other half will taste twice as sweet to me if I give some to her. It's delightful to think I have something to give her. I will say it for the child, Said Marilla when Anne had gone to her gable. She isn't stingy. I'm glad, For of all faults, I detest stinginess in a child. Dear me. It's only three weeks since she came. And it seems as if she'd been here always. I can't imagine the place without her. Now don't be looking, I told you so, Matthew. That's bad enough in a woman, But it isn't to be endured in a man. I'm perfectly willing to own up that I'm glad I consented to keep the child. And that I'm getting fond of her, But don't you rub it in, Matthew Cuthbert. Chapter 13 The Delights of Anticipation It's time Anne was in to do her sewing, Said Marilla, Glancing at the clock, And then out into the yellow August afternoon where everything drowsed in the heat. She stayed playing with Diana more than half an hour more than I gave her leave to. And now she's perched out there on the woodpile talking to Matthew, 19 to the dozen, When she knows perfectly well she ought to be at her work. And of course he's listening to her like a perfect ninny. I never saw such an infatuated man. The more she talks, And the odder the things she says, The more he's delighted, Evidently. Anne Shirley, You come right in here this minute. Do you hear me? A series of staccato taps on the west window brought Anne flying in from the yard, Eyes shining, Cheeks faintly flushed with pink, Unbraided hair streaming behind her in a torrent of brightness. "'Oh, Marilla! ' she exclaimed breathlessly. "'There's going to be a Sunday school picnic next week "'in Mr. Harmon Andrews' field, "'right near the Lake of Shining Waters, "'and Mrs. Superintendent Bell and Mrs. Rachel Lynde "'are going to make ice cream. '" Think of it, Marilla. Ice cream. And oh, Marilla, Can I go to it? Just look at the clock, If you please, Anne. What time did I tell you to come in? Two o'clock, But isn't it splendid about the picnic, Marilla? Please, Can I go? Oh, I've never been to a picnic. I've dreamed of picnics, But I've never, Yes. I told you to come at two o'clock, And it's a quarter to three. I'd like to know why you didn't obey me, Anne. Why, I meant to, Marilla. As much as could be, But you have no idea how fascinating Idlewild is. And then, Of course, I had to tell Matthew about the picnic. Matthew is such a sympathetic listener. Please, Can I go? You'll have to learn to resist the fascination of idle whatever you call it. When I tell you to come in at a certain time, I mean that time. And not half an hour later. And you needn't stop to discourse with sympathetic listeners on your way either. As for the picnic. . . Of course. You can go. You're a Sunday School scholar, And it's not likely I'd refuse to let you go when all the other little girls are going. But But, Faltered Anne, Diana says that everybody must take a basket of things to eat. I. . . Can't cook. As you know, Marilla, And. . . And. . . I don't mind going to a picnic without puffed sleeves so much, But I'd feel terribly humiliated if I had to go without a basket. It's been preying on my mind ever since Diana told me. Well. . . It needn't pray any longer I'll bake you a basket Oh, You dear, Good Marilla. You are so kind to me. Oh, I'm so much obliged to you. Getting through with her O's. Anne cast herself into Marilla's arms and rapturously kissed her sallow cheek. It was the first time in her whole life that childish lips had voluntarily touched Marilla's face. Again, That sudden sensation of startling sweetness thrilled her. She was secretly vastly pleased at Anne's impulsive caress, Which was probably the reason why she said brusquely, There, There, Never mind your kissing nonsense. I'd sooner see you doing strictly as you're told. As for cooking, I mean to begin giving you lessons in that. Some of these days. But you're so feather-brained, Anne. I've been waiting to see if you'd sober down a little and learn to be steady before I begin. You've got to keep your wits about you in cooking and not stop in the middle of things to let your thoughts rove all over creation. Now. Get out your patchwork and have your square done before tea time. I do not like patchwork, " said Anne, Dolefully, Hunting out her work basket, And sitting down before a little heap of red and white diamonds, With a sigh. I think some kinds of sewing would be nice but there's no scope for imagination in patchwork. It's just one little seam after another and you never seem to be getting anywhere. But, Of course, I'd rather be Anne of Green Gables sewing patchwork than Anne of any other place with nothing to do but play. I wish time went as quick sewing patches as it does when I'm playing with Diana, Though. Oh, We do have such elegant times, Marilla. I have to furnish most of the imagination, But I'm well able to do that. Diana is simply perfect in every other way possible. You know that little piece of land across the brook that runs up between our farm and Mr Barry's? It belongs to Mr William Bell and right in the corner there is a little ring of white birch trees. The most romantic spot, Marilla. Diana and I have our playhouse there. We call it Idlewild. It's cold. Isn't that a poetical name? I assure you, It took me some time to think it out. I stayed awake nearly a whole night before I invented it. Then, Just as I was dropping off to sleep, It came. Like an inspiration. Diana was enraptured when she heard it. Come and see it, Marilla, Won't you? We have great big stones all covered with moss for seats and boards from tree to tree for shelves and we have all our dishes on them. Of course they're all broken but it's the easiest thing in the world to imagine that they are whole. There's a piece of a plate with a spray of red and yellow ivy on it that is a Especially beautiful. We keep it in the parlour. And we have the fairy glass there too. The fairy glass is as lovely as a dream. Diana found it out in the woods behind their chicken house. It's all full of rainbows. Just little, Young rainbows that haven't grown big yet. And Diana's mother told her it was broken off a hanging lamp they once had. But it's nice to imagine the fairies lost it one night when they had a ball. So we call it the fairy glass. Matthew is going to make us a table. Oh, We have named that little round pool over in Mr Barry's field. Willowmere. I got that name out of the book Diana lent me. That was a thrilling book, Marilla. The heroine had five lovers. I'd be satisfied with one, Wouldn't you? She was very handsome and went through great tribulations. She could faint as easy as anything. I'd love to be able to faint, Wouldn't you, Marilla? It's so romantic. But I'm really very healthy for all I'm so thin. I believe I'm getting fatter though. Don't you think I am? I look at my elbows every morning when I get up to see if any dimples are coming. Diana is having a new dress made with elbow sleeves. She is going to wear it to the picnic. Oh, I do hope it will be fine next Wednesday. I don't feel that I could endure the disappointment if anything happens to prevent me from getting to the picnic. I suppose I'd live through it, But I'm certain it would be a lifelong sorrow. It wouldn't matter if I got to a hundred picnics in after years. They wouldn't make up for missing this one. They're going to have boats on the Lake of Shining Waters and ice cream. As I told you, I have never tasted ice cream. Diana tried to explain what it was like but I guess ice cream is one of those things that are. Beyond imagination. Anne, You have talked even on for ten minutes by the clock, " said Marilla. Now, Just for curiosity's sake, See if you can hold your tongue for the same length of time. Anne held her tongue as desired. But for the rest of the week, She talked picnic and thought picnic and dreamed picnic. On Saturday, It rained. And she worked herself up into such a frantic state. Lest it should keep on raining until and over Wednesday that Marilla made her sew an extra patchwork square by way of steadying her nerves. On Sunday, Anne confided to Marilla on the way home from church that she grew actually cold all over with excitement when the minister announced the picnic from the pulpit. Such a thrill as went up and down my back, Marilla. I don't think I'd ever really believed until then that there was honestly going to be a picnic. I couldn't help fearing I'd only imagined it. But when a minister says a thing in the pulpit, You just have to believe it. There'll be a great many disappointments in store for you through life. Oh. Marilla, Looking forward to things is half the pleasure of them exclaimed Anne. You might get the things themselves, But. . . Nothing can prevent you from having the fun of looking forward to them. Mrs Linde says, Blessed are they who expect nothing, For they shall not be disappointed, But I think it would be worse to expect nothing than to be disappointed. Marilla wore her amethyst brooch to church that day, As usual. Marilla always wore her amethyst brooch to church. She would have thought it rather sacrilegious to leave it off, As bad as forgetting her bible or her collection dime. That amethyst brooch was Marilla's most treasured possession. A seafaring uncle had given it to her mother, Who in turn had bequeathed it to Marilla. It was an old-fashioned oval containing a braid of her mother's hair. Surrounded by a border of very fine amethysts. Marilla knew too little about precious stones to realise how fine the amethysts actually were. But she thought them very beautiful, And was always pleasantly conscious of their violet shimmer at her throat, Above her good brown satin dress, Even although she could not see it. Anne had been smitten with delighted admiration when she first saw that brooch. Oh, Marilla. It's a perfectly elegant brooch. I don't know how you can pay attention to the sermon or the prayers when you have it on. I couldn't, I know. I think amethysts are just sweet. They are what I used to think diamonds were like. Long ago, Before I had ever seen a diamond, I read about them and I tried to imagine what they would be like. I thought they would be lovely, Glimmering, Purple stones. When I saw a real diamond in a lady's ring one day, I was so disappointed. I cried. Of course, It was very lovely, But it wasn't my idea of a diamond. Will you let me hold the brooch for one minute, Marilla? Do you think amethysts? Can be the souls. Of good. Violets. Chapter 14, Anne's Confession. On the Monday evening before the picnic, Marilla came down from her room with a troubled face. Anne, She said to that small personage, Who was shelling peas by the spotless table and singing Nelly of the Hazel Dell with a vigour and expression that did credit to Diana's teaching. Did you see anything of my amethyst brooch? I thought I stuck it in my pin cushion when I came home from church yesterday evening but I can't find it anywhere. Bye. I saw it this afternoon when you were away at the Aid Society, Said Anne a little slowly. I was passing your door when I saw it on the cushion so I went in to look at it. "'Did you touch it? ' said Marilla sternly. "'Yes, ' admitted Anne. Took it up and I pinned it on my breast just to see how it would look. You had no business to do anything of the sort. It's very wrong in a little girl to meddle. You shouldn't have gone into my room in the first place. And you shouldn't have touched a brooch that didn't belong to you in the second. Where did you put it? Put it back on the bureau. I hadn't it on a minute. Truly, I didn't mean to meddle, Marilla. I didn't think about it being wrong to go in and try on the brooch but I see now that it was. I'll never do it again. That's one good thing about me. I never do the same naughty thing twice. You didn't put it back, Said Marilla. That brooch isn't anywhere on the bureau. You've taken it out or something and. . . I did put it back, Said Anne quickly. Pertly, Marilla thought. I don't just remember whether I stuck it on the pincushion or laid it in the China trade, But I'm perfectly certain I put it back. I'll go and have another look, Said Marilla, Determining to be just. If you put that brooch back, It's there still. If it isn't. I'll know you didn't. That's all. Marilla went to her room and made a thorough search, Not only over the Bureau, But in every other place she thought the brooch might possibly be. It was not to be found. And she returned to the kitchen. Anne the brooch is gone. By your own admission, You were the last person to handle it. Now, What have you done with it? Tell me the truth at once. Did you take it out and lose it? No, I didn't, Said Anne solemnly, Meeting Marilla's angry gaze squarely. I never took the brooch out of your room, And that is the truth. If I was to be led to the block for it. Although I'm not very certain what a block is. So there, Marilla. And so there, Was only intended to emphasise her assertion but Marilla took it. As a display of defiance. I believe you are telling me a falsehood, Anne, " she said sharply. I know you are. Dare now. Don't say anything more, Unless you are prepared to tell the whole truth. Go to your room and stay there until you are ready to confess. Will I take the peas with me? Said Anne meekly. No. I'll finish shelling them myself. Do as I bid you. When Anne had gone, Marilla went about her evening tasks in a very disturbed state of mind. She was worried about her valuable brooch. What if Anne had lost it? And how wicked of the child to deny having taken it when anybody could see she must have. With such an innocent face too. I don't know what I wouldn't sooner have had happen, Thought Marilla, As she nervously shelled the peas. Of course, I don't suppose she meant to steal it or anything like that. She's just taken it to play with or. . . Help along that imagination of hers? She must have taken it, That's clear, For there hasn't been a soul in that room since she was in it, By her own story, Until I went up tonight. And the brooch is gone. There's nothing surer. I suppose. She has lost it. And is afraid to own up for fear she'll be punished. It's a dreadful thing to think she tells falsehoods. It's a far worse thing than her fit of temper. It's a fearful responsibility to have a child in your house you can't trust. Slyness and untruthfulness. That's what she has displayed. I declare, I feel worse about that than about the brooch. If she'd only have told the truth about it. I wouldn't mind so much. Marilla went to her room at intervals all through the evening and searched for the brooch without finding it. A bedtime visit to the East Gable produced no result. Anne persisted in denying that she knew anything about the brooch, But Marilla was only the more firmly convinced that she did. She told Matthew the story the next morning. Matthew was confounded and puzzled. He could not so quickly lose faith in Anne, But he had to admit that circumstances were against her. You're sure it hasn't fell down behind the Bureau? Was the only suggestion he could offer. I've moved the bureau and I've taken out the drawers and I've looked in every crack and cranny, " was Marilla's positive answer. The brooch is gone and that child has taken it and lied about it. That's the plain, Ugly truth, Matthew Cuthbert said. And we might as well look it in the face. Well now. . . What are you going to do about it? Matthew asked forlornly. Feeling secretly thankful that Marilla, And not he, Had to deal with the situation. He felt no desire to put his oar in this time. She'll stay in her room until she confesses, Said Marilla grimly. Remembering the success of this method in the former case. Then, We'll see. Perhaps we'll be able to find the brooch, If she'll only tell where she took it. But in any case, She'll have to be severely punished, Matthew. Well, Now. . . You'll have to punish her, Said Matthew, Reaching for his hat. I've nothing to do with it, Remember? You warned me off yourself. Marilla felt deserted by everyone. She could not even go to Mrs. Lind for advice. She went up to the East Gable with a very serious face. And left it with a face more serious still, Anne steadfastly refused to confess. She persisted in asserting that she had not taken the brooch. The child had evidently been crying, And Marilla felt a pang of pity, Which she sternly repressed. By night she was, As she expressed it, Beat out. You'll stay in this room until you confess, Anne. You can make up your mind to that, " she said firmly. But the picnic is tomorrow, Marilla, Cried Anne. You won't keep me from going to that, Will you? You'll just let me go out for the afternoon. Won't you? Then I'll stay here as long as you like afterwards, Cheerfully, But I must go to the picnic. You'll not go to picnics nor anywhere else until you've confessed an offence. Marilla! " gasped Anne. But Marilla had gone out and shut the door. Wednesday morning dawned as bright and fair as if expressly made to order for the picnic. Birds sang around green gables. The Madonna lilies in the garden sent out whiffs of perfume that entered in on viewless windows at every door and window, And wandered through halls and rooms like spirits of benediction. The birches in the hollow waved joyful hands, As if watching for Anne's usual morning greeting from the east gable. But Anne was not at her window. When Marilla took her breakfast up to her, She found the child sitting primly on her bed, Pale and resolute, With tight shut lips and gleaming eyes. Marilla, I'm ready to confess. Ah. Marilla laid down her tray. Once again, Her method had succeeded. But her success was very bitter to her. Let me hear what you have to say then, Anne. I took the amethyst brooch, Said Anne, As if repeating a lesson she had learned. I took it, Just as you said. I didn't mean to take it when I went in, But it did look so beautiful, Marilla, When I pinned it on my breast, That I was overcome by an irresistible temptation. I imagined how perfectly thrilling it would be to take it to Idlewild and play I Was the Lady Cordelia Fitzgerald. It would be so much easier to imagine I was the Lady Cordelia if I had a real amethyst brooch on. Diana and I made necklaces of rose berries. But what are rose berries compared to amethysts? So I took the brooch. I thought I could put it back before you came home. I went all the way around by the road to lengthen out the time. When I was going over the bridge across the Lake of Shining Waters, I took the brooch off to have another look at it. Oh, How it did shine in the sunlight. And then when I was leaning over the bridge, It just slipped through my fingers. So, And went down, Down, Down, All purpley sparkling and sank forevermore beneath the Lake of Shining Waters. And that's the best I can do at confessing, Marilla. Marilla felt hot anger surge up into her heart again. This child had taken and lost her treasured amethyst brooch and now sat there calmly reciting the details thereof without the least apparent compunction or repentance. Anne. This. Is. . . Terrible, " she said, Trying to speak calmly. Are the very wickedest girl I ever heard of. Yes, I suppose I am, Agreed Anne, Tranquilly. And I know I'll have to be punished. It'll be your duty to punish me, Marilla. Won't you please get it over right off because I'd like to go to the picnic with nothing on my mind. Hey, Kiss me. Indeed? You'll go to no picnic today, Anne Shirley. That shall be your punishment. And it isn't half severe enough either for what you've done. Not go to the picnic? " Anne sprang to her feet and clutched Marilla's hand. But you promised me I might. Ow! Marilla, I must go to the picnic! Was why I confessed. Punish me any way you like, But that, Oh. Marilla, Please, Please let me go to the picnic. Think of the ice cream! For anything you know, I may never have a chance to taste ice cream again! Marilla disengaged Anne's clinging hands stonily. You needn't plead an. You are not going to the picnic and that's final. No, Not a word. Anne realised that Marilla was not to be moved. She clasped her hands together, Gave a piercing shriek, And then flung herself face downward on the bed, Crying and writhing in an utter abandonment of disappointment and despair. For the land's sake, Gasped Marilla, Hastening from the room. I believe the child is crazy. No child in her senses would behave as she does. If she isn't, She's. . . Utterly bad. Oh dear. I'm afraid Rachel was right from the first. But I've put my hand to the plough and I won't look back. That was a dismal morning. Marilla worked fiercely and scrubbed the porch floor and the dairy shelves when she could find nothing else to do. Neither the shelves nor the porch needed it, But Marilla did. Then she went out and raked the yard. When dinner was ready, She went to the stairs and called Anne. A tear-stained face appeared, Looking tragically over the banisters. Come down to your dinner, Anne. I don't. Want any dinner, Marilla, " said Anne, Sobbingly. I couldn't eat anything. My heart. Is broken. You'll feel remorse of conscience someday, I expect, For breaking it, Marilla. But I forgive you. Remember when the time comes that I forgive you, But please don't ask me to eat anything, Especially boiled pork and greens. Boiled pork and greens are so Unromantic! When one is in affliction. Exasperated, Marilla returned to the kitchen. And poured out her tale of woe to Matthew, Who, Between his sense of justice and his unlawful sympathy with Anne, Was a miserable man. Well now, She. . . Shouldn't have taken the brooch, Marilla. Or told stories about it. He admitted, Mournfully surveying his plateful of unromantic pork and greens, As if he, Like Anne, Thought it a food unsuited to crises of feeling. But she's such a little thing. Such an interesting little thing. Don't you think it's. . . Pretty rough. Not to let her go to the picnic when she's so set on it. Matthew Cuthbert. I'm out. Amazed at you. I think I've let her off entirely too easy. And she doesn't appear to realise how wicked she's been at all. That's what worries me most. If she'd really felt sorry, It wouldn't be so bad. And you don't seem to realise it neither. You're making excuses for her all the time to yourself. I can see that! Well now, She's. . . Such a little thing, " feebly reiterated Matthew. And there should be allowances made, Marilla. You know she's never had any bringing up. Well, She's having it now, Retorted Marilla. The retort silenced Matthew if it did not convince him. That dinner was a very dismal meal. The only cheerful thing about it was Jerry Bewatt, The hired boy, And Marilla resented his cheerfulness as a personal insult. When her dishes were washed and her bread sponge set and her hens fed, Marilla remembered that she had noticed a small rent in her best black lace shawl when she had taken it off on Monday afternoon on returning from the ladies aid. She would go and mend it. The shawl was in a box in her trunk. As Marilla lifted it out, The sunlight, Falling through the vines that clustered thickly about the window, Struck upon something caught in the shawl. Something that glittered and sparkled in facets of violet light. Marilla snatched at it with a gasp. It was the amethyst brooch. Hanging to a thread of the lace by its catch. Dear life and heart. Said Marilla blankly, What? Does this mean? Here's my brooch, Safe and sound. That I thought was at the bottom of Barry's punt. Whatever did that girl mean by saying she took it and lost it? I declare! I believe Green Gables is bewitched. I remember now that when I took off my shawl Monday afternoon, I. . . Laid it on the bureau for a minute. I suppose the brooch got caught in it somehow. Wow! Marilla? Betook herself to the east gable, Brooch in hand. Anne had cried herself out and was sitting dejectedly by the window. Anne Shirley said Marilla solemnly, I've just found my brooch. Hanging to my black lace shawl. NOW! I want to know what that rigmarole you told me this morning meant. Why? You said you'd keep me here until I confessed, Returned Anne wearily. And so, I decided to confess. Because I was bound to get to the picnic. I thought out a confession last night after I went to bed and. . . Made it as interesting as I could and I said it over and over so that I wouldn't forget it, But. . . You wouldn't let me go to the picnic after all, So. . . All my trouble was wasted. Marilla had to laugh in spite of herself, But her conscience pricked her. Anne, You do beat all. But. . . I was wrong. I see that now. I shouldn't have doubted your word when I'd never known you to tell a story. Of course, It wasn't right for you to confess to a thing you hadn't done. It was very wrong to do so. But I drove you to it, So. . . If you'll forgive me, Anne. I'll forgive you. And we'll start square again. And now? Get yourself ready for the picnic. Anne flew up like a rocket. Marilla! Isn't it too late? No, It's only two o'clock. They won't be more than well-gathered yet and it'll be an hour before they have tea. Wash your face and comb your hair and put on your gingham. I'll fill a basket for you. There's plenty of stuff baked in the house and I'll get Jerry to hitch up the sorrel and drive you down to the picnic ground. Oh! Rilla! " exclaimed Anne, Flying to the washstand. Five minutes ago I was so Miserable! I was wishing I was dead! I'd never been born and now. . . I wouldn't change places with an angel. That night. A. Thoroughly happy, Completely tired out Anne returns to Green Gables in a state of beatification impossible to describe. Oh. Marilla, I've had a perfectly scrumptious time. Scrumptious is a new word I learned today. I heard Mary Alice Bell use it. Isn't it very expressive? Everything was lovely. We had a splendid tea and then Mr Harmon Andrews took us all for a row on the Lake of Shining Waters. Six of us at a time and Jane Andrews nearly fell overboard. She was leaning out to pick water lilies and if Mr. Andrews hadn't caught her by her sash just in the nick of time, She'd fallen in and probably been drowned. I wish it had been me. Would have been such a romantic experience to have been nearly drowned. It would be such a thrilling tale to tell. And we had the ice cream. Words fail me to describe that ice cream. Marilla, I assure you it was supply. That evening, Marilla told the whole story to Matthew over her stocking basket. I'm willing to own up that I made a mistake, She concluded candidly, But I've learned a lesson. I have to laugh when I think of Anne's confession, Although I suppose I shouldn't, For it really was a falsehood, But it doesn't seem as bad as the other would have been, Somehow. And anyhow, I'm responsible for it. That child is hard to understand in some respects. But I believe she'll turn out all right yet. And there's one thing certain. No house will ever be dull that she's in. Chapter 15 A Tempest in the School Teapot What a splendid day, Said Anne, Drawing a long breath. Isn't it good just to be alive on a day like this? I pity the people who aren't born yet for missing it. They may have good days, Of course, But They can never have this one. And it's splendider still to have such a lovely way to go to school by. Isn't it? It's a lot nicer than going round by the road. That is so dusty and hot, Said Diana practically, Peeping into her dinner basket and mentally calculating if the three juicy, Toothsome raspberry tarts reposing there were divided among ten girls. How many bites? Each girl would have. The little girls of Avonlea school always pulled their lunches. And to eat three raspberry tarts all alone. Or even to share them only with one's best chum, Would have forever and ever branded as awful mean the girl who did it. And yet, When the tarts were divided among ten girls, You just got enough to tantalise you. The way Anne and Diana went to school was a pretty one. Anne thought those walks to and from school with Diana couldn't be improved upon, Even by imagination. Going around by the main road would have been so unromantic. But to go by Lover's Lane, And Willowmere, And Violet Vale, And the Birch Path, Was romantic, If ever anything was. Lover's Lane opened out below the orchard at Green Gables and stretched far up into the woods to the end of the Cuthbert farm. It was the way by which the cows were taken to the back pasture, And the wood hauled home in winter. Anne had named it Lover's Lane before she had been a month at Green Gables. Not that lovers ever really walk there, She explained to Marilla, But Diana and I are reading a perfectly magnificent book, And there's a lover's lane in it, So we want to have one too. And it's a very pretty name, Don't you think? So romantic. We can't imagine Imagine the lovers into it, You know. I like that lane because you can think out loud there without people calling you crazy. Anne, Starting out alone in the morning, Went down Lover's Lane as far as the brook. Here, Diana met her, And the two little girls went on up the lane under the leafy arch of maples. Maples are such sociable trees, Said Anne. They're always rustling and whispering to you. Until they came to a rustic bridge. Then they left the lane and walked through Mr Barry's back field and past Willowmere. Beyond Willowmere came Violet Vale, A little green dimple in the shadow of Mr Andrew Bell's big woods. Of course, There are no violets there now, Anne told Marilla, But Diana says there are millions of them in spring. Oh. Marilla, Can't you just imagine you see them? It actually takes away my breath. I named it Violet Veil. Diana says she never saw the beat of me for hitting on fancy names for places. It's nice to be clever at something, Isn't it? But Diana named the birch path. She wanted to, So I let her, But I'm sure I could have found something more poetical than plain birch path. Anybody can think of a name like that. But the Birch Path is one of the prettiest places in the world, Marilla. It was. Other people besides Anne thought so when they stumbled on it. It was a little, Narrow, Twisting path, Winding down over a long hill straight through Mr. Bell's woods, Where the light came down, Sifted through so many emerald screens that it was as fluid flawless as the heart of a diamond. It was fringed in all its length with slim, Young birches, White-stemmed and lissom-bowed, Ferns and starflowers and wild lilies of the valley, And scarlet tufts of pigeonberries grew thickly along it. And always there was a delightful spiciness in the air, And music of bird calls and the murmur and laugh of woodwinds in the trees overhead. Now and then you might see a rabbit skipping across the road if you were quiet, Which with Anne and Diana happened about once in a blue moon. Down in the valley the path came out to the main road and then it was just up the spruce hill to the school. The Avonlea School. Was a whitewashed building, Low in the eaves and wide in the windows, Furnished inside with comfortable, Substantial, Old-fashioned desks that opened and shut and were carved all over their lids with the initials and hieroglyphics of three generations of schoolchildren. The schoolhouse was set back from the road Behind it was a dusky fir wood and a brook where all the children put their bottles of milk in the morning to keep cool and sweet until dinner hour. Marilla had seen Anne start off to school on the first day of September with many secret misgivings. Anne was such an. . . Old girl. How would she get on with the other children? And how on earth would she ever manage to hold her tongue? During school hours. Things went better than Marilla feared, However. Anne came home that evening in high spirits. I think I'm going to like school here, " she announced. I don't think much of the master though. He's all the time curling his moustache and making eyes at Prissy Andrews. Prissy is grown up, You know, She's 16 and she's studying for the entrance examination into Queen's Academy at Charlottetown next year. Tilly Bolter says the master is dead gone on her. She's got a beautiful complexion and curly brown hair and she does it up so elegantly. She sits in the long seat at the back and he sits there too, Most of the time, To explain her lessons, He says. But Ruby Gillis says she saw him writing something on her slate and when Prissy read it, She blushed as red as a beet and giggled. And Ruby Gillis says she doesn't believe it had anything to do with the lesson. Anne Shirley, Don't let me hear you talking about your teacher in that way again, Said Marilla sharply. You don't go to school to criticise the master. I guess he can teach you something? And it's your business to learn. And I want you to understand right off that you are not to come home telling tales about him. That is something I won't encourage. I hope you were a good girl. Indeed I was, Said Anne comfortably. It wasn't so hard as you might imagine either. I sit with Diana. Our seat is right by the window and we can look down to the Lake of Shining Waters. There are a lot of nice girls in school and we had scrumptious fun playing at dinner time. It's so nice to have a lot of little girls to play with. But of course, I like Diana best and always will. I adore Diana. I'm dreadfully far behind the others. They're all in the fifth book, And I'm only in the fourth. I feel that it's kind of a disgrace. But there's not one of them has such an imagination as I have. And I soon found that out. We had reading and geography and Canadian history and dictation today. Mr. Phillips said my spelling was disgraceful. And he held up my slate so that everybody could see it all marked over. I felt so mortified, Marilla. He might have been politer to a stranger, I think. Ruby Gillis gave me an apple and Sophia Sloan lent me a lovely pink card with May I see you home on it. I'm to give it back to her tomorrow. And to Tilly Bolter, Let me wear her bead ring all the afternoon. Can I have some of those pearl beads off the old pin cushion in the garret to make myself a ring? And oh, Marilla, Jane Andrews told me that Minnie Macpherson told her that she heard Prissy Andrews tell Sarah Gillis that I had a very pretty nose. Marilla, That is the first compliment I have ever had in my life. And you can't imagine what a strange feeling it gave me. Marilla. Have I really a pretty nose? I know you'll tell me the truth. Your nose is well enough, " said Marilla shortly. Secretly, She thought Anne's nose was a remarkable pretty one, But she had no intention of telling her so. That. . . Was three weeks ago. And all had gone smoothly so far. And now, This crisp September morning, Anne and Diana were tripping blithely down the birch path, Two of the happiest little girls in Avonlea. I guess Gilbert Blythe will be in school today, " said Diana. He's been visiting his cousins over in New Brunswick all summer, And he only came home Saturday night. He's awfully handsome, Anne, And he teases the girls something terrible. He just torments our lives out. Diana's voice indicated that she rather liked having her life tormented out than not. Gilbert Blythe said Anne. Isn't his name that's written up on the porch wall with Julia Bells and a big take notice over them? Yes, Said Diana, Tossing her head, But I'm sure he doesn't like Julia Bell so very much. I've heard him say he studied the multiplication table by her freckles. Oh. Don't speak about freckles to me, Implored Anne. It isn't delicate when I've got so many. But I do think that writing take notices up on the wall about the boys and girls is the silliest ever. I should just like to see anybody dare to write my name up. With the boys. Not, Of course, She hastened to add, That anybody would. Anne sighed. She didn't want her name written up, But it was a little humiliating to know that there was no danger of it. Nonsense, Said Diana, Whose black eyes and glossy tresses had played such havoc with the hearts of Avonlea schoolboys that her name figured on the porch walls in half a dozen take notices. It's only meant as a joke. And don't you be too sure your name won't ever be written up. Charlie Sloane is dead gone on you. He told his mother, His mother mind you, That you were the smartest girl in school. That's better than being good looking. "'No, It isn't, ' said Anne, Feminine to the core. I'd rather be pretty than clever. And I hate Charlie Sloane. I can't bear a boy with goggle eyes. If anyone wrote my name up with his, I'd never get over it. Diana Barry. But. . . It is nice to keep head of your class. You'll have Gilbert in your class after this, " said Diana. And he's used to being head of his class, I can tell you. He's only in the fourth book, Although he's nearly 14. Four years ago, His father was sick and had to go out to Alberta for his health and Gilbert went with him. They were there three years. And Gil didn't go to school, Hardly any, Until they came back. You won't find it so easy to keep head after this, Anne. I'm glad, Said Anne quickly. I couldn't really feel proud of keeping head of little boys and girls of just nine or ten. I got up yesterday spelling ebullition. Josie Pye was head and, Mind you, She peeped in her book. Mr. Phillips didn't see her. He was looking at Prissy Andrews. But I did. I just swept her a look of freezing scorn. And she got as red as a bee. Beat and spelled it wrong after all. Those pie girls are cheats all round, Said Diana indignantly as they climbed the fence of the main road. Gertie Pie actually went and put her milk bottle in my place in the brook yesterday. Deed. You. Ever. I don't speak to her now. When Mr Phillips was in the back of the room hearing Prissy Andrews' Latin, Diana whispered to Anne, That's Gilbert Blythe, Sitting right across the aisle from you, Anne. Just look at him. And see if you don't think he's handsome. Anne looked accordingly. She had a good chance to do so, For the said Gilbert Blythe was absorbed in stealthily pinning the long yellow braid of Ruby Gillis, Who sat in front of him, To the back of her seat. He was a tall boy with curly brown hair, Roguish hazel eyes, And a mouth twisted into a teasing smile. Presently, Ruby Gillis started up to take a son to the master, She fell back into her seat with a little shriek, Believing that her hair was pulled out by the roots. Everybody looked at her, And Mr Phillips glared so sternly that Ruby began to cry. Gilbert had whisked the pin out of sight and was studying his history. With the soberest face in the world. But when the commotion subsided, He looked at Anne and winked with inexpressible drollery. I think your Gilbert Blythe is handsome, " confided Anne to Diana, But I think he's very Bold. It isn't good manners to wink at a strange girl. But it was not until the afternoon that things really began to happen. Mr Phillips was back in the corner explaining a problem in algebra to Prissy Andrews, And the rest of the scholars were doing pretty much as they pleased, Eating green apples, Whispering, Drawing pictures on their slates, And driving crickets harnessed to strings up and down the aisle. Gilbert Blythe was trying to make Anne Shirley look at him and failing utterly. Because Anne was, At that moment, Totally oblivious. Not only to the very existence of Gilbert Blythe, But of every other scholar in Avonlea School itself. With her chin propped on her hands and her eyes fixed on the blue glimpse of the lake of shining waters that the west window afforded, She was far away in a gorgeous dreamland, Hearing and seeing nothing save her own wonderful visions. Gilbert Blythe wasn't used to putting himself out to make a girl look at him and meeting with failure. She should look at him, That red-haired Shirley girl with the little pointed chin and the big eyes that weren't like the eyes of any other girl in Avonlea's school. Boom. Gilbert reached across the aisle, Picked up the end of Anne's long red braid, Held it out at arm's length, And said, In a piercing whisper, Carrots! Carrots! Then Anne looked at him with a vengeance. She did more than look. She sprang to her feet, Her bright fancies fallen into cureless ruin. She flashed one indignant glance at Gilbert from eyes whose angry sparkle was swiftly quenched in equally angry tears. He is. You. MEAN! Hateful boy! " she exclaimed passionately. How? DARE YOU! And then. . . THWACK! Anne had brought her slate down on Gilbert's head and cracked it. Slate, Not head. Clear across. Avonlea School always enjoyed a scene. This was an especially enjoyable one. Everybody said, Oh! In horrified delight, Diana gasped. Ruby Gillis, Who was inclined to be hysterical, Began to cry. Tommy Sloan let his tears of crickets escape him altogether while he stared open-mouthed at the tableau. Mr Phillips stalked down the aisle. And laid his hand heavily on Anne's shoulder. Ann Shirley, What does this mean? He said angrily. Anne. Returned no answer. It was asking too much of flesh and blood to expect her to tell before the whole school that she had been called Carrots. Gilbert it was who spoke up stoutly. It was my fault, Mr. Phillips. I teased her. Mr. Phillips paid no heed to Gilbert. I am sorry to see a pupil of mine displaying such a temper and such a vindictive spirit He said in a solemn tone, As if the mere fact of being a pupil of his ought to root out all evil passions from the hearts of small, Imperfect mortals. Anne. Go and stand on the platform in front of the blackboard for the rest of the afternoon. Anne would have infinitely preferred a whipping to this punishment, Under which her sensitive spirit quivered as from a whiplash. With a white set face. She obeyed. Mr Phillips took a chalk crayon and wrote on the blackboard above her head. Anne Shirley has a very bad temper. Anne surely must learn to control her temper. And then read it out loud so that even the primer class, Who couldn't read writing, Should understand it. Anne stood there the rest of the afternoon with that legend above her. She did not cry. Or hang her head. Anger was still too hot in her heart for that. And it sustained her amid all her agony of humiliation. With resentful eyes and passion-red cheeks. She confronted alike Diana's sympathetic gaze and Charlie Sloane's indignant nods and Josie Pye's malicious smiles. As for Gilbert Blythe, She would not even look at him. She would never look at him again. She would never speak to him. When school was dismissed, Anne marched out with her red head held high. Gilbert Blythe tried to intercept her at the porch door. I'm awfully sorry I made fun of your hair, Anne, He whispered contritely. Honest, I am. Don't be mad for keeps now. Anne swept by disdainfully without look or sign of hearing. Oh, How could you, Anne? Breathed Diana, As they went down the road, Half reproachfully, Half admiringly. Diana felt that she could never have resisted Gilbert's plea. I shall never forgive Gilbert Blythe, " said Anne firmly. And Mr Phillips spelled my name without an E, Too. The iron has entered into my soul, Diana. Diana hadn't the least idea what Anne meant, But she understood it was something terrible. You mustn't mind Gilbert making fun of your hair, She said soothingly. Why, He makes fun of all the girls. He laughs at mine because it's so black. He's called me a crow a dozen times. And I never heard him apologize for. . . Anything before either. There's a great deal of difference between being called a crow and being called carrots. Said Anne with dignity. Gilbert Blythe has hurt my feelings excruciatingly, Diana. It is possible the matter might have blown over without more excruciation if nothing else had happened but. . . When things begin to happen, They are apt to keep on. Avonlea scholars often spent noon hour picking gum in Mr Bell's spruce grove over the hill and across his big pasture field. From there, They could keep an eye on Eben Wright's house where the master boarded. When they saw Mr Phillips emerging therefrom, They ran for the schoolhouse, But the distance being about three times longer than Mr Wright's lane, They were very apt to arrive there, Breathless and gasping, Some three minutes too late. On the following day, Mr Phillips was seized with one of his spasmodic fits of reform, And announced before going home to dinner that he should expect to find all the scholars in their seats when he returned. Anyone who came in late would be punished. All the boys and some of the girls went to Mr Bell's spruce grove as usual, Fully intending to stay only long enough to pick a chew. But spruce groves are seductive and yellow nuts of gum beguiling. They picked and loitered, And strayed, And, As usual, The first thing that recalled them to a sense of the flight of time was Jimmy Glover shouting from the top of a patriarchal old spruce, The girls, Who were on the ground, Started first and managed to reach the schoolhouse in time. But without a second to spare. The boys, Who had to wriggle hastily down from the trees, Were later, And Anne. . . Who had not been picking gum at all, But was wandering happily in the far end of the grove, Waist deep among the bracken, Singing softly to herself, With a wreath of rice lilies on her hair, As if she were some wild divinity of the shadowy places, Was latest of all. Anne could run like a deer, However. Run she did, With the impish result that she overtook the boys at the door and was swept into the schoolhouse among them, Just as Mr Phillips was in the act of hanging up his hat. Mr Phillips' brief reforming energy was over. He didn't want the bother of punishing a dozen pupils, But it was necessary to do something to save his word. So he looked about for a scapegoat and found it in Anne, Who had dropped into her seat gasping for breath with a forgotten lily wreath hanging aside. Skew over one ear. And giving her a particularly rakish and dishevelled appearance. Anne Shirley. Since you seem to be so fond of the boy's company, We shall indulge your taste for it this afternoon, " he said sarcastically. Take those flowers out of your hair and sit with Gilbert Blythe. The other boys snickered. Diana turning pale with pity. Plucked the wreath from Anne's hair and squeezed her hand. Anne stared at the master as if turned to stone. "'Did you hear what I said, Anne? ' queried Mr Phillips sternly. Yes, Sir, Said Anne slowly, But I didn't suppose you really meant it. I assure you, I did. Still with the sarcastic inflection which all the children, And Anne especially, Hated. It flicked on the roar. Obey me at once. For a moment, Anne looked as if she meant to disobey. Ben. Realising that there was no help for it, She rose haughtily, Stepped across the aisle, Sat down beside Gilbert Blythe, And buried her face in her arms on the desk. Ruby Gillis, Who got a glimpse of it as it went down, Told the others going home from school that she'd actually never seen anything like it. It was so white, With awful little red spots in it. To Anne, This was as the end of all things. It was bad enough to be singled out for punishment from among a dozen equally guilty ones. It was worse still to be sent to sit with a boy. But that that boy should be Gilbert Blythe. Was heaping insult on injury to a degree utterly Unbearable. Anne felt that she could not bear it and it would be of no use to try. Her whole being seethed with shame and anger and humiliation. At first, The other scholars looked and whispered and giggled and nudged. But as Anne never lifted her head, And as Gilbert worked fractions as if his whole soul was absorbed in them and them only, They soon returned to their own tasks, And Anne was forgotten. When Mr Phillips called the history class out, Anne should have gone. But Anne did not move. And Mr Phillips, Who had been writing some verses to Priscilla before he called the class, Was thinking about an obstinate rhyme still, And never missed her. Once, When nobody was looking, Gilbert took from his desk a little pink candy heart with a gold motto on it. You are sweet. And slipped it under the curve of Anne's arm. Whereupon Anne, A rose, Took the pink heart gingerly between the tips of her fingers, Dropped it on the floor, Ground it to powder beneath her heel. And resumed her position without deigning to bestow a glance on Gilbert. When school went out, Anne marched to her desk, Ostentatiously took out everything therein, Books and writing tablet, Pen and ink, Testament and arithmetic, And piled them neatly on her cracked slate. What are you taking all those things home for, Anne? Diana wanted to know as soon as they were out on the road. She had not dared to ask the question before. I am not coming back to school anymore, " said Anne. Diana gasped and stared at Anne to see if she meant it. Will Marilla let you stay home, She asked. She'll have to, Said Anne. I'll never go to school to that man again. Oh, Anne! Diana looked as if she were ready to cry. I do think. You're mean. What shall I do? Mr Phillips will make me sit with that horrid, Girty pie. I know he will, Because she is sitting alone. Do come back, Anne. I'd do almost anything in the world for you, Diana, Said Anne sadly. I'd let myself be torn limb from limb if it would do you any good. But I can't do this. So please don't ask it. You harrow up my very soul. Just think of all the fun you will miss, Mourned Diana. We are going to build the loveliest new house down by the brook. And we'll be playing ball next week. And you've never played ball, Anne. It's tremendously exciting. And we're going to learn a new song. Jane Andrews is practicing it up now. And Alice Andrews is going to bring a new Pansy book next week and we're all going to read it out loud, Chapter about, Down by the brook. And, You know, You are so fond of reading out loud, Anne. Nothing moved Anne in the least. Her mind was made up. She would not go to school to Mr Phillips again. She told Marilla so when she got home. Nonsense, Said Marilla. It isn't nonsense at all, " said Anne, Gazing at Marilla with solemn, Reproachful eyes. Don't you understand, Marilla? I've been insulted. Insulted. Fiddlesticks. You'll go to school tomorrow as usual. Oh no! Anne shook her head gently. I'm not going back, Marilla. I'll learn my lessons at home. And I'll be as good as I can be. And hold my tongue all the time. If it's possible at all. But I will not go back to school. I assure you. Marilla saw something remarkably like unyielding stubbornness looking out of Anne's small face. She understood that she would have trouble in overcoming it. But she resolved wisely to say nothing more just then. I'll run down and see Rachel about it this evening, " she thought. There's no use reasoning with Anne now. She's too worked up, And I've an idea she can be awful stubborn if she takes the notion. Far as I can make out from her story, Mr Phillips has been carrying matters with a rather high hand. But it would never do to say so to her. I'll just talk it over with Rachel. She's sent 10 children to school. And she ought to know something about it. She'll have heard the whole story too, By this time. Marilla found Mrs Linde knitting quilts as industriously and cheerfully as usual. "'I suppose you know what I've come about, ' she said, A little shamefacedly. Mrs Rachel nodded. About Anne's fuss in school, I reckon, " she said. Tilly Bolter was in on her way home from school and told me about it. I don't know what to do with her, Said Marilla. She declares she won't go back to school. I never saw a child so worked up. I've been expecting trouble ever since she started to school. I knew things were going too smooth to last. She's so high-strung. What would you advise, Rachel? Well, Since you've asked my advice, Marilla, " said Mrs. Lynde amiably. Mrs. Lynde dearly loved to be asked for advice. I'd just humour her a little at first. That's what I'd do. It's my belief that Mr. Phillips was in the wrong. Of course, It doesn't do to say so to the children, You know. And of course he did write to punish her yesterday for giving way to temper, But today it was different. The others who were late should have been punished as well as Anne, That's what. And I don't believe in making the girls sit with the boys for punishment. It isn't modest. Tilly Bolter was real indignant. She took Anne's part right through and said all the scholars did too. And seems real popular among them, Somehow. I never thought she'd take with them so well. Then. . . You really think I'd better let her stay home? " said Marilla in amazement. Yes. That is, I wouldn't say school to her again until she said it herself. Depend upon it, Marilla. She'll call off in a week or so and be ready enough to go back of her own accord. That's what. While if you were to make her go back, Write off, Dear knows what freak or tantrum she'd take next and make more trouble than ever. The less fuss made, The better, In my opinion. She won't miss much by not going to school, As far as that goes. Mr Phillips isn't any good at all as a teacher. The order he keeps is It's scandalous, That's what. And he neglects the young fry and puts all his time on those big scullers he's getting ready for Queens. He'd never have got the school for another year if his uncle hadn't been a trustee. The trustee. For he just leads the other two around by the nose, That's what. I declare. I don't know what education in this island is coming to. " Mrs Rachel shook her head, As much as to say if she were only at the head of the educational system of the province, Things would be much better managed. Marilla took Mrs Rachel's advice. And not another word was said to Anne about going back to school. She learned her lessons at home. Did her chores and played with Diana in the chilly purple autumn twilights. But when she met Gilbert Blythe on the road, Or encountered him in Sunday school, She passed him by with an icy contempt that was no wit thawed by his evident desire to appease her. Even Diana's efforts as a peacemaker were of no avail. Anne had evidently made up her mind to hate Gilbert Blythe to the end of life. As much as she hated Gilbert, However, Did she love Diana. With all the love of her passionate little heart. Equally intense in its likes and dislikes. One evening, Marilla, Coming in from the orchard with a basket of apples, Found Anne, Sitting along by the east window in the twilight, Crying. Bitterly. Whatever's the matter now, Anne? She asked. It's about. . . Diana? Sobbed Anne luxuriously. I? Love, Diana. Sew, Marilla. I cannot ever live without her. But I know very well when we grow up that Diana. . . We'll get married and go away. And leave me. And oh, What shall I do? I hate her husband. I just. . . I hate him. Furiously. I've been imagining it all out. The wedding. And everything Diana dressed in snowy garments with a veil and looking as beautiful and regal as a queen. And me, The bridesmaid, With a lovely dress too and puffed sleeves. But with a breaking heart hid beneath my smiling face and then Bidding Diana Goodbye. Here, Anne broke down entirely and wept with increasing bitterness. Marilla. Turned quickly away to hide her twitching face, But it was no use. She collapsed on the nearest chair and burst into such a hearty and unusual peal of laughter that Matthew, Crossing the yard outside, Halted in amazement. When had he heard Marilla laugh like that before? Well. . . Anne Shirley, " said Marilla, As soon as she could speak, "'If you must borrow trouble—' For pity's sake, Borrow it handier home. I should think you had an imagination, Sure enough. Chapter Sixteen Diana is invited to tea. With tragic results. October was a beautiful month at Green Gables, When the birches in the hollow turned as golden as sunshine, And the maples behind the orchard were royal crimson, And the wild cherry trees along the lane put on the loveliest shades of dark red and bronzy green, While the field sunned themselves in aftermaths. Anne revelled in the world of colour about her. Oh, Marilla! " she exclaimed one Saturday morning, Coming dancing in with her arms full of gorgeous bows. I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers. It would be terrible if we just skipped from September to November, Wouldn't it? Look! Have these maple branches. Don't they give you a thrill? Several thrills. I'm going to decorate my room with them. Messy things, " said Marilla, Whose aesthetic sense was not noticeably developed. You clutter up your room entirely too much with out-of-doors stuff, Anne. Bedrooms were made to sleep in. Oh. And dream in too, Marilla! And you know one can dream so much better in a room where there are pretty things. I'm going to put these boughs in the old blue jug and set them on my table. Mind you don't drop leaves all over the stairs then. I'm going on a meeting of the AIDS Society in Kalmadi this afternoon, Anne. And I won't likely be home before dark. You'll have to get Matthew and Jerry their supper. So, Mind you don't forget to put the tea to draw until you sit down at the table as you did last time. It was dreadful of me to forget, Said Anne apologetically. But that was the afternoon I was trying to think of a name for Violet Vale. And it crowded other things out. Matthew was so good, He never scolded a bit. He put the tea down himself and said, We could wait a while, As well as not. And I told him a lovely fairy story while we were waiting. So he didn't find the time long at all. It was a beautiful fairy story, Marilla. I forgot the end of it, So I made up an end for it myself. And Matthew said he couldn't tell where the join came in. Matthew would think it all right, Anne, If you took a notion to get up and have dinner in the middle of the night. But you. . . Keep your wits about you this time. I don't really know if I'm doing right. It may make you more adulpated than ever, But You can ask Diana to come over and spend the afternoon with you and have tea here. Oh, Marilla! " Anne clasped her hands. How perfectly lovely. You are able to imagine things after all, Or else you'd never have understood how I've longed for that very thing. It will seem so nice and grown-up-ish. No fear of my forgetting to put the tea to draw when I have company. Oh, Marilla, Can I use the rosebud spray tea set? No, Indeed! The Rosebud tea set. Wow. What next? You know I never use that except for the minister or the aides. You'll put down the old brown tea set. But you can open the little yellow crock of cherry preserves. It's time it was being used anyhow. I believe it's beginning to work. And you can cut some fruitcake. And have some of the cookies and snaps. I can just imagine myself sitting down at the head of the table and pouring out the tea, " said Anne, Shutting her eyes ecstatically and asking Diana if she takes sugar I know she doesn't, Of course, But I'll ask her, Just as if I didn't know. And then pressing her to take another piece of fruitcake. And another helping of preserves. Oh, Marilla. It's a wonderful sensation just to think of it. Can I take her into the spare room to lay off her hat when she comes? And then into the parlour to sit. No. The sitting room will do for you and your company. But there's a bottle half full of raspberry cordial that was left over from the church social the other night. It's on the second shelf of the sitting room closet and you and Diana can have it if you like. And a cookie to eat with it along in the afternoon for I dare say Matthew will be late coming in to tea since he's hauling potatoes to the vessel. Anne flew down to the hollow, Past the dryad's bubble and up the spruce path to Orchard Slope to ask Diana to tea. As a result, Just after Marilla had driven off to Karmadi, Diana came over. Dressed in her second-best dress and looking exactly as it is proper to look when asked out to tea. At other times she was wont to run into the kitchen without knocking but now she knocked primly at the front door. And when Anne, Dressed in her second best, As primly opened it, Both little girls shook hands as gravely as if they had never met before. This unnatural solemnity lasted until after Diana had been taken to the East Gable to lay off her hat. And then had sat for 10 minutes in the sitting room, Toes bent. In position. How is your mother? Inquired Anne politely, Just as if she had not seen Mrs Barry picking apples that morning in excellent health and spirits. She is very well, Thank you. I suppose Mr Cuthbert is hauling potatoes to the lily sands this afternoon, Is he? Said Diana, Who had ridden down to Mr Harman Andrews that morning in Matthew's cart. Yes, Our potato crop is very good this year. I hope your father's crop is good too. It is fairly good. Thank you. Have you picked many of your apples yet? Oh, Ever so many, Said Anne. Forgetting to be dignified and jumping up quickly. Let's go out to the orchard and get some of the red sweetings, Diana. Marilla says we can have all that are left on the tree. Marilla is a very generous woman. She said we could have fruit cake and cherry preserves for tea. It isn't good manners to tell your company what you're going to give them to eat. I won't tell you what she said we could have to drink. Only it begins with an R and a C and it's bright red colour. I love bright red drinks, Don't you? They taste twice as good as any other colour. The orchard, With its great sweeping boughs that bent to the ground with fruit, Proved so delightful that the little girls spent most of the afternoon in it, Sitting in a grassy corner where the frost had spared the green, And the mellow autumn sunshine lingered warmly. Eating apples and talking as hard as they could. Diana had much to tell Anne of what went on in school. She had to sit with Gertie Pie and she hated it. Gertie squeaked her pencil all the time and it just made her, Diana's, Blood run cold. Ruby Gillis had charmed all her warts away. True's you live. With a magic pebble. That old Mary Jo from the creek gave her. You had to rub the warts with the pebble and then throw it away over your left shoulder at the time of the new moon and the warts would all go. Charlie Sloane's name was written up with M. White's on the porch wall and M. White was awful mad about it. Sam Bolter had sassed Mr. Phillips in class and Mr. Phillips whipped him. And Sam's father came down to the school and dared Mr. Phillips to lay a hand on one of his children again. And Mattie Andrews had a new red hood and a blue crossover with tassels on it. And the airs she put on about it were perfectly sickening. And Lizzy Wright didn't speak to Mammy Wilson because Mammy Wilson's grown-up sister had cut out Lizzy Wright's grown-up sister with her bow. And everybody missed Anne so, And wished she'd come to school again. And Gilbert Blythe But Anne didn't want to hear about Gilbert Blythe. She jumped up hurriedly and said, Suppose they go in and have some raspberry cordial. Anne looked on the second shelf of the room pantry but There was no bottle of raspberry cordial there. Search revealed it a way back on the top shelf. Anne put it on a tray and set it on the table with a tumbler. Now. Please help yourself, Diana, " she said politely. I don't believe I'll have any just now. I don't feel as if I wanted any after all those apples. Diana poured herself out a tumblerful, Looked at its bright red hue admiringly, And then sipped it daintily. That's awfully nice, Raspberry Cordial Anne, She said. I didn't know Raspberry Cordial was so nice. I'm real glad you like it. Take as much as you want. I'm going to run out and stir the fire up. There are so many responsibilities on a person's mind when they're keeping house, Isn't there? When Anne came back from the kitchen, Diana was drinking her second glassful of cordial. And, Being entreated thereto by Anne, She offered no particular objection to the drinking of a third. The tumblerfuls were generous ones, And the raspberry cordial was certainly very nice. The nicest I ever drank, Said Diana. It's ever so much nicer than Mrs. Lynde's, Although she brags of hers so much. It doesn't taste a bit like hers. I should think Marilla's raspberry cordial would probably be much nicer than Mrs Lin's, Said Anne, Loyally. Marilla is a famous cook. She is trying to teach me to cook. But I assure you, Diana, It is uphill work. There's so little scope for imagination in cookery. You just have to go by rules. The last time I made a cake, I forgot to put the flour in. I was thinking the loveliest story about you and me, Diana. I thought you were desperately ill with smallpox and everybody deserted you. But I went boldly to your bedside and nursed you back to life. And then I took the smallpox and died. You too. And I was buried under those poplar trees in the graveyard. And you planted a rosebush by my grave and watered it with your tears. And you never, Never forgot the friend of your youth who sacrificed her life for you. Oh, It was such a pathetic tale, Diana. The tears just rained down over my cheeks while I mixed the cake. But. . . I forgot the flour and the cake was a dismal failure. Flour is so essential to cakes, You know. Marilla was very cross and I don't wonder I'm a great trial to her. She was terribly mortified about the pudding sauce last week. We had a plum pudding for dinner on Tuesday, And there was half the pudding and a pitcher full of sauce left over. Marilla said there was enough for another dinner and told me to set it on the pantry shelf and cover it. I meant to cover it just as much as could be Diana but when I carried it in. I was imagining I was a nun. Of course, I'm a Protestant, But I imagined I was a Catholic, Taking the veil to bury a broken heart in cloistered seclusion. And I forgot all about covering the pudding sauce. I thought of it next morning and ran to the pantry. Diana, Fancy if you can my extreme horror at finding a mouse drowned in that pudding sauce. I lifted the mouse out with a spoon and threw it out in the yard. And then I washed the spoon in three waters. Marilla was out milking. And I fully intended to ask her when she came in if I'd give the sauce to the pigs, But when she did come in. . . I was imagining that I was a frost fairy, Going through the woods, Turning the trees red and yellow, Whichever they wanted to be. I never thought about the pudding sauce again and Marilla sent me out to pick apples. Wow. Mr. And Mrs. Chester Ross from Spencer Vale came here that morning. You know, They are very stylish people, Especially Mrs. Chester Ross. When Marilla called me in, Dinner was all ready and everybody was at the table. I tried to be as polite and dignified as I could be. For I wanted Mrs Chester-Ross to think I was a lady-like little girl. Even if I wasn't pretty. Everything went right until I saw Marilla coming with the plum pudding in one hand and the pitcher of pudding sauce warmed up in the other. Diana, That was a terrible moment. I remembered everything and I just stood up in my place and shrieked out, You mustn't use that pudding sauce. There was a mouse drowned in it. I forgot to tell you before. Oh, Diana. I shall never forget that awful moment if I live to be a hundred. Mrs. Chester-Ross just looked at me and I thought I would sink through the floor with mortification. She is such a perfect housekeeper and fancy what she must have thought of us. Marilla turned red as fire, But she never said a word. Then. . . She just carried that sauce and pudding out? And brought in some strawberry preserves. She even offered me some, But I couldn't swallow a mouthful. It was like heaping coals of fire on my head. After Mrs. Chester Ross went away, Marilla gave me a dreadful scolding. Why? Diana What is the matter? Diana had stood up very unsteadily. Then she sat down again, Putting her hands to her head. I'm. . . I'm awful. Sick, " she said a little thickly. I must go right home. Wow! You mustn't dream of going home without your tea, Cried Anne in distress. I'll get it right off. I'll go and put the tea down this very minute. I will. Must. Go home, Repeated Diana, Stupidly but determinately. Let me get you a lunch anyhow? Implored Anne. Let me give you a bit of fruitcake and some of the cherry preserves. Lie down on the sofa for a little while and you'll be better. Where do you feel bad? I must go home, Said Diana. And that, Was all she would say. In vain, Anne pleaded. I never heard of company. Going home without tea, She mourned. Oh. . . Diana! Do you suppose that it's possible? You're really taking the smallpox? If you are, I'll go and nurse you. You can depend on that. I'll never forsake you. I do wish you'd stay till after tea. Where do you feel bad? I'm. . . Awful dizzy, " said Diana. And indeed she walked very dizzily. Anne, With tears of disappointment in her eyes, Got Diana's hat and went with her as far as the Barry Yard fence. Then she wept all the way back to Green Gables, Where she sorrowfully put the remainder of the raspberry cordial back into the pantry and got tea ready for Matthew and Jerry, With all the zest gone out of the performance. The next day was Sunday. And as the rain poured down in torrents from dawn till dusk, Anne did not stir abroad from Green Gables. Monday afternoon, Marilla sent her down to Mrs. Lynde's on an errand. In a very short space of time, Anne came flying back up the lane with tears rolling down her cheeks. Into the kitchen she dashed and flung herself face downward on the sofa in an agony. Whatever. Has gone wrong now, Anne! Queried Marilla in doubt and dismay. I do hope you haven't gone and been saucy to Mrs Linde again. No answer from Anne save more tears and stormier sobs. Anne Shirley When I ask you a question, I want to be answered. Sit right up. This very minute and tell me what you are crying about. And sat up. Tragedy personified. Mrs. Lynde was up to see Mrs. Barry today. And Mrs Barry. Was in an awful state. She wailed. She says that I set Diana drunk. Saturday. And send her home in a disgraceful condition. And she says I must be a thoroughly bad wicked little girl and she's never never going to let Diana play with me again. Oh, Marilla. I'm just. . . Overcome with woe. Marilla stared in blank amazement. Set? Diana? Drunk. She said when she found her voice. Anne. Are you or Mrs Barry crazy? What on earth? What did you give her? Ding! But raspberry cordial, " sobbed Anne. I never thought Raspberry Cordial would set people drunk, Marilla. Not even if they drank three big tumblerfuls, As Diana did. Ugh. It sounds so, So like Mrs. Thomas's husband. But I didn't mean to set her drunk. Drunk. Fiddlesticks, " said Marilla, Marching to the sitting-room pantry. There, On the shelf, Was a bottle which she at once recognised as one containing some of her three-year-old homemade current wine. For which she was celebrated in Avonlea, Although certain of the stricter sort. Mrs. Barry among them disapproved strongly of it. And at the same time, Marilla recollected that she had put the bottle of raspberry cordial down in the cellar. Instead of in the pantry, As she had told Anne. She went back to the kitchen with the wine bottle in her hand. Her face was twitching in spite of herself. Anne. You certainly have a genius for getting into trouble. You went and gave Diana current wine. Instead of Raspberry Cordial, Didn't you know the difference yourself? I never tasted it, Said Anne. I thought it was the cordial. I meant to be so. . . So. . . Hospitable. Diana got awfully sick and had to go home. Mrs Barry told Mrs Lynde she was simply dead. I'm drunk. She just laughed silly-like when her mother asked her what was the matter. And went to sleep. And slept for hours. Her mother smelled her breath and knew she was drunk. She had a fearful headache all day yesterday. Mrs Barry is so indignant. She will never believe but what I did it on purpose. I should think she would better punish Diana for being so greedy as to drink three glassfuls of anything, " said Marilla shortly. Why? Three of those big glasses would have made her sick even if it had only been cordial. Well. . . This story will be a nice handle for those folks who are so down on me for making current wine. Although I haven't made any for three years. Ever since I found out that the minister didn't approve. I just kept that bottle for sickness. There, There, Child. Don't cry. I can't see as you were to blame. Although, I'm sorry it happened so. I must cry, Said Anne. My heart is broken. The stars in their courses fight against me, Marilla. Diana and I are parted forever. Oh, Marilla. I little dreamed of this when first we swore our vows of friendship. Don't be foolish, Anne. Mrs Barry will think better of it when she finds you're not to blame. I suppose she thinks you've done it for a silly joke or something of that sort. You'd best go up this evening and tell her how it was. My courage fails me. At the thought of facing Diana's injured mother. Side and I wish you'd go, Marilla. You're so much more. Dignified than I am? Likely she'd listen to you quicker than to me. Well. . . I will, " said Marilla, Reflecting that it would probably be the wiser course. Don't cry anymore, Anne. It will be all right. Marilla had changed her mind about it being all right by the time she got back from Orchard Slope. An was watching for her coming and flew to the porch door to meet her. Oh. . . Marilla. . . I know by your face that it's been no use. She said sorrowfully. Mrs Barry won't forgive me? Mrs. Barry indeed, Snapped Marilla. Of all the unreasonable women I ever saw, She's the worst. I told her it was all a mistake and you weren't to blame, But she just simply didn't believe me. And she rubbed it well in about my current wine and how I'd always said it couldn't have the least effect on anybody. I just told her plainly that current wine wasn't meant to be drunk three tumblerfuls at a time, And that if a child I had to do with was so greedy, I'd sober her up with a right good spanking. Marilla whisked into the kitchen. Grievously disturbed. Leaving a very much distracted little soul in the porch behind her. Presently, Anne stepped out bareheaded into the chill autumn dusk. Very determinately and steadily. She took her way down through the seer clover field, Along the log bridge, And up through the spruce grove, Lighted by a pale little moon hanging low over the western woods. Mrs Barry, Coming to the door in answer to a timid knock, Found a white-lipped, Eager-eyed suppliant on the doorstep. Her face hardened. Mrs Barry was a woman of strong prejudices and dislikes, And her anger was of the cold, Sullen sort, Which is always hardest to overcome. To do her justice, She really believed Anne had made Diana drunk out of sheer malice propense. And she was honestly anxious to preserve her little daughter from the contamination of further intimacy with such a child. What do you want? She said stiffly. Anne clasped her hands. Oh, Mrs. Barry, Please forgive me. I did not mean to. . . To. . . Intoxicate Diana? How could I? Just imagine if you were a poor little orphan girl that kind people had adopted and you had just one bosom friend in all the world. Do you think you would intoxicate her on purpose? I thought it was only raspberry cordial. I was firmly convinced it was Raspberry Cordial. Oh, Please don't say that you won't let Diana play with me anymore. If you do. You will cover my life with a dark cloud of woe. This speech, Which would have softened good Mrs. Lind's heart in a twinkling, Had no effect on Mrs. Barry except to irritate her still more. She was suspicious of Anne's big words and dramatic gestures and imagined that the child was making fun of her. So, She said, Coldly and cruelly, I don't think you are a fit little girl for Diana to associate with. You'd better go home and behave yourself. Hands lips quivered Won't you let me see Diana just once to say farewell? She implored. Diana has gone over to Karmodi with her father. Said Mrs Barry, Going in and shutting the door. Anne went back to Green Gables. Calm with despair. My last hope. Is gone. She told Marilla. I went up and saw Mrs. Barry myself, And she treated me very insultingly. Marilla. I do not think she is a well-bred woman. There is nothing more to do except to pray. And I haven't much hope that that'll do much good because, Marilla, I do not believe that God himself can do very much with such an obstinate person as Mrs. Barry. Anne, You shouldn't say such things, Rebuked Marilla, Striving to overcome that unholy tendency to laughter. Which she was dismayed to find growing upon her. And indeed, When she told the whole story to Matthew that night, She did laugh heartily over Anne's tribulations. But when she slipped into the east gable before going to bed and found that Anne had cried herself to sleep, An unaccustomed softness crept into her face. Poor little soul, " she murmured, Lifting a loose curl of hair from the child's tear-stained face. Then she bent down and kissed the flushed cheek on the pillow. Chapter 17. A new interest in life. The next afternoon, Anne, Bending over her patchwork at the kitchen window, Happened to glance out and beheld Diana. Down by the triad's bubble. Beckoning. Mysteriously. In a trice, Anne was out of the house and flying down to the hollow. Astonishment and hope struggling in her expressive eyes. But the hope faded when she saw Diana's dejected countenance. Your mother. Hasn't relented. She gasped. Diana shook her head mournfully. No. And oh Anne, She says I'm never to play with you again. I've cried and cried and I told her it wasn't your fault but it wasn't any use. I had ever such a time coaxing her to let me come down and say goodbye to you. She said I was only to stay 10 minutes and she's timing me by the clock. Ten minutes isn't very long to say an eternal farewell in, Said Anne tearfully. Oh, Diana, Will you promise faithfully never to forget me, The friend of your youth, No matter what dearer friends may caress thee? Indeed i will sobbed diana and i'll never have another bosom friend I don't want to have. I couldn't love anybody as I love you. Oh. Diana! Cried Anne, Clasping her hands. Do you? Love? Why of course I do! Didn't you know that? No! Anne drew a long breath. I thought you liked me, Of course, But I never hoped you loved me. Why? Diana. I didn't think anybody could love me. Nobody ever has loved me, Since I can remember. This is wonderful. It's a ray of light which will forever shine on the darkness of a path severed from thee, Diana. Oh, Just say it once again. I love you devotedly, Anne, " said Diana stanchly, And I always will. You may be sure of that. And I. Will always love thee, Diana. Said Anne. Solemnly extending her hand. In the years to come, Thy memory will shine like a star over my lonely life. As that last story we read together says, Diana. Wilt thou give me a lock of thy jet-black tresses, Imparting to treasure for evermore? Have you got anything to cut it with? Queried Diana, Wiping away the tears which Anne's affecting accents had caused to flow afresh and returning to practicalities. Yes, I've got my patchwork scissors in my apron pocket, Fortunately, Said Anne. She solemnly clipped one of Diana's curls. Fare thee well, My beloved friend. Henceforth we must be as strangers, Though living side by side. But my heart will ever be faithful to thee. Anne stood and watched Diana out of sight, Mournfully waving her hand to the latter, Whenever she turned to look back. Then she returned to the house, Not a little consoled for the time being by this romantic parting. It is all over, She informed Marilla. I shall never have another friend. I'm really worse off than ever before, For I haven't Katie Maurice and Violetta now. And even if I had, It wouldn't be the same. Somehow, Little dream girls are not satisfying after a real friend. Diana and I had such an affecting farewell down by the spring. It will be sacred in my memory forever. I used the most pathetic language I could think of and said thou and thee. Thou and thee seem so much more romantic than you. Diana gave me a lock of her hair. And I'm going to sew it up in a little bag and wear it around my neck all my life. Please see that it is buried with me, For I don't believe I'll live very long. Perhaps when she sees me lying cold and dead before her, Mrs Barry may feel remorse for what she has done. And will let Diana come to my funeral. I don't think there is much fear of your dying of grief as long as you can talk, Anne, " said Marilla unsympathetically. The following Monday, Anne surprised Marilla by coming down from her room with her basket of books on her arm and hip, And her lips primmed up into a line of determination. I'm going back to school, She announced. That is all there is left in life for me. Now that my friend has been ruthlessly torn from me, In school I can look at her and muse over days departed. You'd better muse over your lessons and sums, " said Marilla, Concealing her delight at this development of the situation. If you're going back to school, I hope we'll hear no more of breaking slates over people's heads and such carryings on. Behave yourself. And do just what your teacher tells you. I'll try to be a model pupil, Agreed Anne dolefully. There won't be much fun in it, I expect. Mr Phillips said Mini Andrews was a model pupil. And there isn't a spark of imagination or life in her. She is just dull and pokey and never seems to have a good time. But I feel so depressed that. . . Perhaps it will come easy to me now. I'm going round by the road. I couldn't bear to go by the birch path all alone. I should weep bitter tears if I did. Anne was welcomed back to school with open arms. Her imagination had been sorely missed in games. Her voice in the singing, And her dramatic ability in the perusal aloud of books at dinner hour, Ruby Gillis smuggled three blue plums over to her during testament reading. Ella Mae Macpherson gave her an enormous yellow pansy. Cut from the covers of a floral catalogue, A species of desk decoration much prized in Avonlea school. Sophia Sloan offered to teach her a perfectly elegant new pattern of knit lace, So nice for trimming aprons. Katie Bolter gave her a perfume bottle to keep slate water in, And Julia Bell copied carefully on a piece of pale pink paper scalloped on the apron. Edges the following effusion. To Anne, When twilight drops her curtain down and pins it with a star, Remember that you have a friend, Though she may wander far. It's so nice to be appreciated, Sighed Anne rapturously to Marilla that night. The girls were not the only scholars who appreciated her. When Anne went to her seat after dinner hour, She had been told by Mr. Phillips to sit with the model Minnie Andrews. She found on her desk a big, Luscious, Strawberry apple. Anne caught it up all ready to take a bite when she remembered that The only place in Avonlea where strawberry apples grew was in the old blithe orchard on the other side of the Lake of Shining Waters. Anne dropped the apple as if it were a red-hot coal and ostentatiously wiped her fingers on her handkerchief. The apple lay untouched on her desk until the next morning, When little Timothy Andrews, Who swept the school and kindled the fire, Annexed it as one of his perquisites. Charlie Sloane's slate pencil, Gorgeously bedizened with striped red and yellow paper, Costing two cents, Where ordinary pencils cost only one. Which he sent up to her after dinner hour, Met with a more favourable reception. Anne was graciously pleased to accept it and rewarded the donor with a smile, Which exalted that infatuated youth straight away into the seventh heaven of delight. And caused him to make such fearful errors in his dictation that Mr Phillips kept him in after school to rewrite it. But as the Caesar's pageant shorn of Brutus's bust did but of Rome's best son remind her more, So the marked absence of any tribute or recognition from Diana Barry, Who was sitting with Gertie Pye, Embittered Anne's little triumph. Diana might just have smiled at me once, I think. She mourned to Marilla that night. But the next morning, A note, Most fearfully and wonderfully twisted and folded, And a small parcel were passed across to everyone. Can. Dear Anne, Ran the former, Mother says, I'm not to play with you or talk to you, Even in school. It isn't my fault. And don't be cross at me, Because I love you as much as ever. I miss you awfully, To tell all my secrets to, And I don't like Gertie Pie one bit. I made you one of the new bookmarkers out of red tissue paper. They are awfully fashionable now, And only three girls in school know how to make them. When you look at it, Remember your true friend, Diana Barry. Anne read the note, Kissed the bookmark, And dispatched a prompt reply back to the other side of the school. My own darling Diana. Of course, I am not cross at you because you have to obey your mother. Our spirits can commune. I shall keep your lovely present forever. Minnie Andrews is a very nice little girl, Although she has no imagination. But after having been Diana's bosom friend, I cannot be Minnie's. Please excuse mistakes because my spelling isn't very good yet, Although much improved. Yours, Until death us do part, Anne, Or Cordelia, Shirley. P. S. I shall sleep with your letter under my pillow tonight. A or C S. Marilla, Pessimistically, Expected more trouble since Anne had again begun to go to school, But none developed. Perhaps Anne caught something of the model spirit from Minnie Andrews. At least she got on very well with Mr Phillips, Thenceforth. She flung herself into her studies, Heart and soul. Determined not to be outdone in any class by Gilbert Blythe. The rivalry between them was soon apparent. It was entirely good-natured on Gilbert's side, But it is much to be feared that the same thing cannot be said of Anne, Who had certainly an unpraiseworthy tenacity for holding grudges. She was as intense in her hatreds as in her loves. She would not stoop to admit that she meant to rival Gilbert in schoolwork, Because that would have been to acknowledge his existence, Which Anne persistently ignored. But the rivalry was there. And honours fluctuated between them. Now Gilbert was head of the spelling class. Now Anne, With a toss of her long red braids, Spelled him down. One morning, Gilbert had all his sums done correctly, And had his name written on the blackboard on the roll of honour. The next morning, Anne, Having wrestled wildly with decimals the entire evening before, Would be first. One awful day, They were ties, And their names were written up together. It was almost as bad as a take notice, And Anne's mortification was as evident as Gilbert's satisfaction. When the written examinations at the end of each month were held, The suspense was terrible. The first month, Gilbert came out three marks ahead. The second, Anne, Beat him by five. But her triumph was marred by the fact that Gilbert congratulated her heartily before the whole school. It would have been ever so much sweeter to her if he had felt the sting of his defeat. Mr Phillips might not be a very good teacher, But a pupil so inflexibly determined on learning as Anne was could hardly escape making progress under any kind of teacher. By the end of the term, Anne and Gilbert were both promoted into the fifth class and allowed to begin studying the elements of the branches, By which Latin, Geometry, French and Algebra were meant. In Geometry, Anne met her Waterloo. It's perfectly awful stuff, Marilla, " she groaned. I'm sure I'll never be able to make head or tail of it. There is no scope for imagination in it at all. Mr Phillips says I'm the worst dunce he ever saw at it. And gill I mean, Some of the others are so smart at it. It is extremely mortifying, Marilla. Even Diana gets along better than I do. But I don't mind being beaten by Diana. Even although we meet as strangers now, I still love her with an inextinguishable love. It makes me very sad at times to think about her. But really, Marilla, One can't stay sad very long in such an interesting world, Can one? Chapter 18 Anne to the Rescue All things great are wound up with all things little. At first glance, It might not seem that the decision of a certain Canadian premier to include Prince Edward Island in a political tour could have much or anything to do with the fortunes of little Anne Shirley at Green Gables, But it had. It was a January the Premier came to address his loyal supporters and such of his non-supporters as chose to be present at the monster mass meeting held in Charlottetown. Most of the Avonlea people were on Premier's side of politics, Hence on the night of the meeting nearly all the men, And a goodly portion of the women had gone to town, 30 miles away. Mrs Rachel Lind had gone too. Mrs Rachel Lind was a red-hot politician. And couldn't have believed that the political rally could be carried through without her, Although she was on the opposite side of politics? So, She went to town and took her husband, Thomas would be useful in looking after the horse, And Marilla Cuthbert with her. Marilla had a sneaking interest in politics herself. And as she thought it might be her only chance to see a real live premiere, She promptly took it, Leaving Anne and Matthew to keep house until her return the following day. Hence, While Marilla and Mrs Rachel were enjoying themselves hugely at the mass meeting, Anne and Matthew had the cheerful kitchen at Green Gables all day. To themselves. A bright fire was glowing in the old-fashioned Waterloo stove, And blue-white frost crystals were shining on the window panes. Matthew nodded over a farmer's advocate on the sofa, And Anne at the table studied her lessons with grim determination. Glances at the clock shelf where lay a new book that Jane Andrews had lent her that day. Jane had assured her that it was warranted to produce any number of thrills, Or words to that effect, And Anne's fingers tingled to reach out for it. But. . . That would mean Gilbert Blythe's triumph on the morrow. Anne turned her back on the clock shelf and tried to imagine it wasn't there. Matthew Did you ever study geometry when you went to school? Well now, No, I didn't, Said Matthew, Coming out of his doze with a start. I wish you had, Sighed Anne, Because then you'd be able to sympathise with me. You can't sympathise properly if you've never studied it. It is casting a cloud over my whole life. I'm such a. . . Dance at it, Matthew! Well, Now. . . I don't know, Said Matthew soothingly. I guess you're all right at anything. Mr Phillips told me last week in Blair's store at Carmody that you was the smartest scholar in school and was making rapid progress. Rapid progress was his very words. There's them as runs down Teddy Phillips and says he ain't much of a teacher but I guess he's all right. Matthew would have thought anyone who praised Anne was all right. I'm sure I'd get on better with geometry. If only he wouldn't change the letters! " complained Anne. I learn the proposition off my heart and then he draws it on the blackboard and puts different letters from what are in the book and I Get all mixed up. I don't think a teacher should take such a mean advantage, Do you? We're studying agriculture now and I've found out at last what makes the roads red. It's a great comfort. I wonder how Marilla and Mrs Linde are enjoying themselves. Mrs Linde says Canada is going to the dogs, The way things are being run at Ottawa, And that it's an awful warning to the electors She says if women were allowed to vote, We would soon see a blessed change. What way do you vote, Matthew? Conservative, Said Matthew promptly. To vote Conservative was part of Matthew's religion. Then, I'm conservative, Too, Said Anne decidedly. I'm glad because some of the boys in school are grits. I guess Mr Phillips is a grit, Too, Because Prissy Andrew's father is one. And Ruby Gillis says that when a man is courting, He always has to agree with the girl's mother in religion and her father in politics. Is that true, Matthew? Well now. . . I don't know, Said Matthew. Did you ever go courting Matthew? Well now. No. I don't know as I ever did, " said Matthew, Who had certainly never thought of such a thing in his whole existence. Anne reflected with her chin in her hands. It must be rather interesting. Don't you think, Matthew? Ruby Gillis says when she grows up she's going to have ever so many bows on the string and have them all crazy about her. But I think that would be too exciting. I'd rather have just one in his right mind. But Ruby Gillis knows a great deal about such matters, Because she has so many big sisters. And Mrs Lind says the Gillis girls have gone off like hotcakes. Mr Phillips goes up to see Prissy Andrews nearly every evening. He says it is to help her with her lessons. But Miranda Sloan is studying for Queen's too and I should think she needed help a lot more than Prissy. Because she's ever so much stupider, But he never goes to help her in the evenings at all. There are a great many things in this world that I I can't understand very well, Matthew. Well, Now. . . I don't know as I comprehend them all myself, Acknowledged Matthew. Well, I suppose I must finish up my lessons. I won't allow myself to open that new book Jane lent me until I'm through. But it's a terrible temptation, Matthew. Even when I turn my back on it, I can see it there, Just as plain. Jane said she cried herself sick over it. I love a book that makes me cry. But I think I'll carry that book into the sitting room and lock it in the jam closet and give you the key. And you must not give it to me, Matthew. Until my lessons are done, Not even if I implore you on my bended knees. It's all very well to say, Resist temptation, But it's ever so much easier to resist it if you can't get the key. And then shall I run down the cellar and get some russets, Matthew? Wouldn't you like some russets? Well now. . . I don't know but what I would said Matthew who never ate russets but knew Anne's weakness for them. Just as Anne emerged triumphantly from the cellar with her plate full of russets, Came the sound of flying footsteps on the icy boardwalk outside, And the next moment the kitchen door was flung open and in rushed Diana Barry. White-faced and breathless, With a shawl wrapped hastily around her head. Anne promptly let go of her candle and plate in her surprise. And plate, Candle and apples crashed together down the cellar ladder and were found at the bottom, Embedded in melted grease the next day. By Marilla, Who gathered them up and thanked mercy the house hadn't been set on fire. Whatever is the matter, Diana? Cried Anne. Has your mother relented at last? Oh Anne, Do come quick, Implored Diana nervously. Mini May is awful sick. She's got croup. Young Mary Jo says, And father and mother are away to town and there's nobody to go for the doctor. Mini-May is awful bad. And young Mary Jo doesn't know what to do. And oh, Anne, I'm so scared. Matthew, Without a word, Reached out for cap and coat, Slipped past Diana and away into the darkness of the yard. He's gone to harness the sorrel mare to go to Carmody for the doctor, " said Anne, Who was hurrying on hood and jacket. I know it as well as if he'd said so. Matthew and I are such kindred spirits. I can read his thoughts without words at all. I don't believe he'll find the doctor at Carmody, Sobbed Diana. I know that Dr. Blair went to town and I guess Dr. Spencer would go too. Young Mary Jo never saw anybody with croup. And Mrs. Linde is away! Oh, Anne! Don't cry, Die. Said Anne cheerily. I know exactly what to do for Croop. You forget that Mrs. Hammond had twins three times. When you look after three pairs of twins, You naturally get a lot of experience. They all had croup regularly. Just wait till I get the Ipecac bottle. You mayn't have any at your house. Come on now. The two little girls hastened out, Hand in hand, And hurried through Lover's Lane and across the crusted field beyond. For the snow was too deep to go by the shorter woodway. Anne, Although sincerely sorry for Minnie Mae, Was far from being insensible to the romance of the situation and to the sweetness of once more sharing that romance with a kindred spirit. The night was clear and frosty, All ebony green. Of shadow and silver of snowy slope, Big stars were shining over the silent fields. Here and there, The dark pointed firs stood up with snow powdering their branches and the wind whistling through them. Anne thought it was truly delightful to go skimming through all this mystery and look loveliness with your bosom friend who had been so long estranged. Minnie May, Aged three, Was really very sick. She lay on the kitchen sofa, Feverish and restless, While her hoarse breathing could be heard all over the house. Young Mary Jo, A buxom, Broad-faced French girl from the creek whom Mrs Barry had engaged to stay with the children during her absence, Was Helpless and bewildered, Quite incapable of thinking what to do or doing it if she thought of it, Anne went to work with skill and promptness. Mini-May has croup alright. She's pretty bad, But I've seen them worse. First, We must have lots of hot water. I declare, Diana, There isn't more than a cupful in the kettle. There, I filled it up. And Mary Jo, You may put some wood in the stove. I don't want to hurt your feelings, But it seems to me you might have thought of this before, If you'd any imagination. I'll undress Minnie Mae and put her to bed and you try to find some soft flannel cloths Diana. I'm going to give her a dose of Ipecac first of all. Minnie Mae did not take kindly to the Ipecac, But Anne had not brought up three pairs of twins for nothing. Down that ipecac went. Not only once, But many times during the long, Anxious night when the two little girls worked patiently over the suffering Minnie Mae and young Mary Jo. Honestly anxious to do all she could, Kept up a roaring fire and heated more water than would have been needed for a hospital of creepy babies. It was three o'clock when Matthew came with the doctor, For he had been obliged to go all the way to Spencer Vale for one. But the pressing need for assistance was passed. Minnie Mae was much better. And was sleeping soundly. I was awfully near giving up in despair, Explained Anne. She got worse and worse until she was sicker than ever the Hammond twins were. Even the last pair! I actually thought she was going to choke to death. I gave her every drop of Ipecac in that bottle. And when the last dose went down, I said to myself, Not to Diana or young Mary Jo, Because I didn't want to worry them any more than they were worried, But I had to say it to myself just to relieve my feelings. Is the last lingering hope. And I fear to survein one. But in about three minutes, She coughed up the phlegm. And began to get better right away. You must just imagine my relief, Doctor, Because I can't express it in words. You know there are some things that cannot be expressed in words. Yes, I know, Nodded the doctor. He looked at Anne as if he were thinking some things about her that couldn't be expressed in words. Later on, However, He expressed them to Mr and Mrs Barry. That little red-headed girl they have over at Cuthbert's is as smart as they make them. I tell you, She saved that baby's life. For it would have been too late by the time I got there. She seems to have a skill and presence of mind perfectly wonderful. In a child of her age. I never saw anything like the eyes of her when she was explaining the case to me. Anne had gone home in the wonderful, White-frosted winter morning, Heavy-eyed from loss of sleep, But still talking unweariedly to Matthew as they crossed the long white field and walked under the glittering fairy arch of the lover's lane maples. Oh, Matthew, Isn't it a wonderful morning? The world looks like something God had just imagined for his own pleasure, Doesn't it? Those trees look as if I could blow them away with a breath. I'm so glad I live in a world where there are white frosts. Aren't you? And I'm so glad Mrs Hammond had three pairs of twins after all. If she hadn't, I mightn't have known what to do for Minnie Mae. I'm real sorry I was ever cross with Mrs Hammond for having twins. But, Ugh. Matthew, I'm so sleepy. I can't go to school. I just know I couldn't keep my eyes open and I'd be so stupid. But I hate to stay home. For guilt. . . Some of the others will get head of the class and it's so hard to get up again. Although, Of course, The harder it is, The more satisfaction you have when you do get it up, Haven't you? Well now. . . I guess you'll manage all right, " said Matthew, Looking at Anne's white little face and the dark shadows under her eyes. You just go right to bed and have a good sleep. I'll do all the chores. Anne, Accordingly, Went to bed, And slept so long and soundly that it was well on in the white and rosy winter afternoon when she awoke. And descended to the kitchen, Where Marilla, Who had arrived home in the meantime, Was sitting, Knitting. Oh, Did you see the premiere? Exclaimed Anne at once. What did he look like, Marilla? Wow. He never got to be premier on account of his looks, Said Marilla. Such a nose as that man had. But he can speak. I was proud of being a conservative. Rachel Lind, Of course, Being a liberal, Had no use for him. Your dinner is in the oven, Anne, And you can get yourself some blue plum preserve out of the pantry. I guess you're hungry. Matthew has been telling me about last night. I must say, It was fortunate you knew what to do. I wouldn't have had any idea myself. For I never saw a case of croup. There now, Never mind talking till you've had your dinner. I can tell by the look of you that you're just full up with speeches, But they'll keep. Marilla had something to tell Anne, But she did not tell it just then, For she knew if she did, Anne's consequent excitement would lift her clear out of the region of such material matters as appetite or dinner. Not until Anne had finished her saucer of blue plums did Marilla say, Mrs Barry was here this afternoon, Anne. She wanted to see you, But I wouldn't wake you up. She says, You saved Minnie Mae's life. And she is very sorry she acted as she did in that affair of the current wine. She says she knows now you didn't mean to set Diana drunk. And she hopes you'll forgive her and be good friends with Diana again. You're to go over this evening if you like. For Diana can't stir outside the door on account of a bad cold she caught last night. Now, Anne Shirley, For pity's sake, Don't fly up into the air. The warning seemed not unnecessary. So uplifted and aerial was Anne's expression and attitude as she sprang to her feet, Her face irradiated with the flame of her spirit. Oh, Marilla. Can I go right now without washing my dishes? I'll wash them when I come back, But I cannot tie myself down to anything so unromantic as dishwashing at this thrilling moment. Yes yes run along said marilla indulgently Anne, Shirley, Are you crazy? Come back this instant. And put something on you. I might as well call to the wind. She's gone without a cap or wrap. Look at her! Tearing through the orchard with her hair streaming. It'll be a mercy if she doesn't catch her death of cold. Anne came dancing home in the purple winter twilight across the snowy places. Afar, In the southwest, Was the great, Shimmering, Pearl-like sparkle of an evening star in a sky that was pale golden and ethereal rose. Over gleaming white spaces and dark glens of spruce. The tinkles of sleigh bells among the snowy hills came like elfin chimes through the frosty air, But their music was not sweeter than the song in Anne's heart and on her lips. You see before you a person. Perfectly happy person, Marilla. She announced, I'm leaving. Perfectly happy. Yes, In spite of my red hair, Just at present, I have a soul above. Red. Hair. Mrs. Barry! Pissed me. And cried and said she was so sorry and she could never repay me. I felt fearfully embarrassed, Marilla, But I just said as politely as I could. I have no hard feelings for you, Mrs Barry. I assure you, Once for all, That I did not mean to intoxicate Diana. And henceforth I shall cover the past with the mantle of oblivion. That was a pretty dignified way of speaking, Wasn't it, Marilla? I felt that I was heaping coals of fire on Mrs Barry's head. And Diana and I had a lovely afternoon. Diana showed me a new fancy crochet stitch her aunt over at Carmody taught her. Not a soul in Avonlea knows it but us. And we pledged a solemn vow never to reveal it to anyone else. Diana gave me a beautiful card with a wreath of roses on it. And a verse of poetry. If you love me as I love you, Nothing but death can part us two. And that is true, Marilla. We're going to ask Mr Phillips to let us sit together in school again, And Gertie Pie can go with Minnie Andrews. We had an elegant tea. Mrs Barry had the very best china set out, Marilla, Just as if I was real company. I can't tell you what a thrill it gave me. Nobody ever used their very best china on my account before. And we had fruitcake and poundcake and doughnuts and two kinds of preserves, Marilla. And Mrs. Barry asked me if I took tea and said, Pa, Why don't you pass the biscuits to Anne? It must be lovely to be grown up, Marilla, When just being treated as if you were is so nice. "'I don't know about that, ' said Marilla with a brief sigh. "'Well, Anyway, When I am grown up, ' said Anne decidedly, "'I'm always going to talk to little girls as if they were too, "'and I'll never laugh when they use big words. "'I know from sorrowful experience how that hurts one's feelings. Feelings. After tea, Diana and I made taffy. The taffy wasn't very good, I suppose because neither Diana nor I had ever made any before. Diana left me to stir it while she buttered the plates and I forgot and let it burn. And then when we set it out on the platform to cool, The cat walked over one plate And that had to be thrown away. But the making of it was splendid fun. Then, When I came home, Mrs Barry asked me to come over as often as I could. And Diana stood at the window and threw kisses to me all the way down to Lover's Lane. I assure you, Marilla, That I feel like praying tonight. And I'm going to think out a special. . . Brand new prayer. In honour. Of the occasion. Chapter 19 A concert? A catastrophe. And a confession. Marilla, Can I go over to see Diana, Just for a minute? " asked Anne, Running breathlessly down from the East Gable one February evening. I don't see what you want to be traipsing about after dark for, Said Marilla shortly. You and Diana walked home from school together and then stood down there in the snow for half an hour more, Your tongues going the whole blessed time, Clickety-clack. So I don't think you're very badly off to see her again. But she wants to see me, Pleaded Anne. She has something very important to tell me. How do you know she has? Because she just signaled to me from her window. We have arranged a way to signal with our candles and cardboard. We set the candle on the windowsill and make flashes by passing the cardboard back and forth. So many flashes mean a certain thing. It was my idea, Marilla. I'll warrant you, It was, " said Marilla emphatically. And the next thing, You'll be setting fire to the curtains with your signalling nonsense. Oh, We're very careful, Marilla. And it's so interesting! Two flashes mean, Are you there? Three mean, Yes. And four, Yes. No. Five mean come over as soon as possible because I have something important to reveal. Diana has just signalled five flashes and I'm really suffering to know what it is. Well. You needn't suffer any longer, Said Marilla sarcastically. You can go. But you're to be back here in just 10 minutes. Remember that. Anne did remember it and was back in the stipulated time. Although probably no mortal will ever know just what it cost her to confine the discussion of Diana's important communication within the limits of 10 minutes. But at least she had made good use of them. Oh, Marilla, What do you think? You know, Tomorrow is Diana's birthday. Well, Her mother told her she could ask me to go home with her from school and stay all night with her. And her cousins are coming over from Newbridge in a big pungsleigh to go to the debating club concert at the hall tomorrow night. And they are going to take Diana and me to the concert. If you'll let me go, That is. You will, Won't you, Marilla? Oh, I feel so excited. You can calm down then. Because you're not going. You're better at home in your own bed. And as for that club concert. . . It's all nonsense and little girls should not be allowed to go out to such places at all. Sure, The debating club is a most respectable affair, Pleaded Anne. I'm not saying it isn't. But you're not going to begin gadding about to concerts and staying out all hours of the night. Pretty doings for children. I'm surprised at Mrs Barry's letting Diana go. But it's. . . Such a very special occasion, Mourned Anne on the verge of tears. Diana has only one birthday in a year? It isn't as if birthdays were common things, Marilla! Chrissie Andrews is going to recite Curfew Must Not Ring tonight. That is such a good moral piece, Marilla. I'm sure it would do me lots of good to hear it. And the choir are going to sing four lovely songs. Pathetic songs that are pretty near as good as hymns. And oh, Marilla, The minister is going to take part. Yes, Indeed, He is. He's going to give an address. That will be just about the same thing as a sermon. Please! Mayn't I go, Marilla? You heard what I said, Anne, Didn't you? Take off your boots now and go to bed. It's past eight. There's just one more thing, Marilla. Said Anne, With the air of producing the last shot in her locker. Mrs Barry told Diana that we might sleep in the spare room bed. Think of the honour. Of your little Anne. Being put. In the spare room bed. It's an honour you'll have to get along without. Go to bed, Anne. And don't let me hear another word out of you. When Anne, With tears rolling over her cheeks, Had gone, Sorrowfully, Upstairs. Matthew, Who had been apparently sound asleep on the lounge during the whole dialogue, Opened his eyes and said decidedly, Well now, Marilla? I think you ought to let Anne go. I don't then, Retorted Marilla. Who's bringing this child up, Matthew? You or me? Well now. You, Admitted Matthew, Don't interfere then. Well, Now. I ain't. Interfering? It ain't interfering to have your own opinion. And my opinion is that you ought to let Anne go. You'd think I ought to let Anne go to the moon if she took the notion, I've no doubt. Was Marilla's amiable rejoinder. I might. Have let her spend the night with Diana if that was all, But I don't approve of this concert plan. She'd go there and catch cold like a snot and have her head filled up with nonsense and excitement. It would unsettle her for a week. I understand that child's disposition and what's good for it better than you, Matthew. I think you ought to let Anne go, " repeated Matthew firmly. Argument was not his strong point, But holding fast to his opinion certainly was. Marilla gave a gasp of helplessness and took refuge in silence. The next morning, When Anne was washing the breakfast dishes in the pantry, Matthew paused on his way out to the barn to say to Marilla again, I think you ought to let Anne go, Marilla. For a moment Marilla looked things not lawful to be uttered. Then. . . She yielded to the inevitable and said tartly, Very well. She can go, Since nothing else'll please you. Anne flew out of the pantry, Dripping dishcloth in hand. Marilla! Marilla! Say those blessed words again! I guess once is enough to say them. This is Matthew's doings and I wash my hands of it. If you catch pneumonia sleeping in a strange bed or coming out of that hot hole in the middle of the night, Don't blame me. Blame Matthew. And Shirley, You're dripping greasy water all over the floor. I never saw such a careless child. Oh. I know I'm a great trial to you, Marilla, " said Anne repentantly. I make so many mistakes. Just think of all the mistakes. I don't make, Although I might. All. Get some sand and scrub up the spots before I go to school. Oh, Marilla, My heart was just set on going to that concert. I never was to a concert in my life. And when the other girls talk about them in school, I feel so. . . Out of it. You didn't know just how I felt about it, But you see, Matthew did. Matthew understands me. And it's so nice. To be understood, Marilla. Anne was too excited to do herself justice as to lessons that morning in school. Gilbert Blythe spelled her down in class and left her clear out of sight in mental arithmetic. Anne's consequent humiliation was less than it might have been, However, In view of the concert and the spare room bed. She and Diana talked so constantly about it all day that with a stricter teacher than Mr Phillips, Dire disgrace must inevitably have been their portion. Anne felt that she could not have borne it if she had not been going to the concert, For nothing else was discussed that day in school. The Avonlea Debating Club, Which met fortnightly all winter, Had had several smaller free entertainments, But this was to be a big affair. Admission ten cents in aid of the library. The Avonlea young people had been practising for weeks and all the scholars were especially interested in it by reason of older brothers and sisters who were going to take part. Everybody in school over nine years of age expected to go. Except Carrie Sloan, Whose father shared Marilla's opinions about small girls going out to night concerts. Carrie Sloan cried into her grammar all the afternoon and felt that life was not worth living. For Anne, The real excitement began with the dismissal of school and increased therefrom in crescendo until it reached to a crash of positive ecstasy. In the concert itself. They had a perfectly elegant tea. And then came the delicious occupation of dressing in Diana's little room upstairs. Diana did Anne's front hair in the new pompadour style. And Anne tied Diana's bows with the especial knack she possessed. And they experimented with at least half a dozen different ways of arranging their back hair. At last, They were ready. Cheeks scarlet and eyes glowing with excitement. True, Anne could not help a little pang when she contrasted her plain black tam and shapeless tight-sleeved homemade grey cloth coat with Diana's jaunty fur cap and smart little jacket. But she remembered in time that she had an imagination and could use it. Then Diana's cousins, The Murrys from Newbridge, Came. They all crowded into the big pungslay among straw and furry robes. Anne revelled in the drive to the hall, Slipping along over the satin-smooth roads with the snow crisping under the runners. There was a magnificent sunset, And the snowy hills and the deep blue water of the St. Lawrence Gulf seemed to rim in the splendour like a huge bowl of pearl and sapphire brimmed with wine and fire. Tinkles of sleigh bells and distant laughter that seemed like the mirth of wood elves came from every quarter. Oh, Diana, Breathed Anne, Squeezing Diana's mittened hand under the fur robe. Isn't it all like a beautiful dream? Do I really look the same as usual? I feel so different that it seems to me it must show in my looks. You lurk. Awfully nice, " said Diana, Who, Having just received a compliment from one of her cousins, Felt that she ought to pass it on. You've got the loveliest colour. The programme that night was a series of thrills for at least one listener in the audience and, As Anne assured Diana, Every succeeding thrill was thrillier than the last. When Prissy Andrews, Attired in a new pink silk waist with a string of pearls about her smooth white throat and real carnations in her hair, Rumour whispered that the master had sent all the way to town for them for her. Climbed the slimy ladder, Dark without one ray of light, Anne shivered in luxurious sympathy. When the choir sang far above the gentle daisies, Anne gazed at the ceiling as if it were frescoed with angels. When Sam Sloane proceeded to explain and illustrate how Soccery set a hen, Anne laughed until people sitting near her laughed too, More out of sympathy with her than with amusement at a selection that was rather threadbare even in Avonlea. And when Mr Phillips gave Mark Antony's oration over the dead body of Caesar in the most heart-stirring tones. Looking at Prissy Andrews at the end of every sentence, Anne felt that she could rise and mutiny on the spot. If but one Roman citizen led the way. Only one number on the programme failed to interest her. When Gilbert Blythe recited Bingen on the Rhine, Anne picked up Rhoda Murray's library book and read it until he had finished. When she sat rigidly stiff and motionless, While Diana clapped her hands until they tingled It was eleven when they got home, Sated with dissipation but with the exceeding sweet pleasure of talking it all over still to come. Everybody seemed asleep and the house was dark and silent. Anne and Diana tiptoed into the parlour, A long narrow room out of of which the spare room opened. It was pleasantly warm and dimly lighted by the embers of a fire in the grate. Let's undress here, Said Diana. It's so nice and warm. Hasn't it been a delightful time? Sighed Anne rapturously. It must be splendid to get up and recite there. Do you suppose we will ever be asked to do it, Diana? Yes, Of course. Someday. They're always wanting the big scholars to recite. Gilbert Blythe does often, And he's only two years older than us. Anne, How could you pretend not to listen to him? When he came to the line, There's another not a sister, He looked right down at you. Diana, Said Anne with dignity, You are My bosom friend. But I cannot allow even you to speak to me of that person. Are you ready for bed? Let's run a race and see who'll get to the bed first. The suggestion appealed to Diana. The two little white-clad figures flew down the long room, Through the spare room door, And bounded on the bed at the same moment, And then. . . Something. Moved beneath them. There was a gasp and a cry and somebody said in muffled accents, Merciful goodness. Anne and Diana were never able to tell just how they got off that bed and out of the room. They only knew that after one frantic rush, They found themselves tiptoeing shiveringly upstairs. Ugh. Who was it? What was it? Whispered Anne, Her teeth chattering with cold and fright. It was. Aunt Josephine, " said Diana, Gasping with laughter. Oh, Anne! It was Aunt Josephine! However, She came to be there. Oh, And I know she will be furious. It's dreadful. It's really dreadful. But did you ever know anything so funny, Anne? Who is your Aunt Josephine? She's father's aunt and she lives in Charlottetown. She's awfully old. Seventy anyhow. I don't believe she was ever a little girl. We were expecting her out for a visit, But not so soon. She's awfully prim and proper. And S. H. I. E. L. D. Scolded dreadfully about this, I know. Well. . . We'll have to sleep with Minnie May and you can't think how she kicks. Miss Josephine Barry did not appear at the early breakfast the next morning. Mrs Barry smiled kindly at the two little girls. Did you have a good time last night? I tried to stay awake until you came home for I wanted to tell you Aunt Josephine had come and that you would have to go upstairs after all, But I was so tired I fell asleep. I hope you didn't disturb your aunt, Diana. Diana preserved a discreet silence, But she and Anne exchanged furtive smiles of guilty amusement across the table. Anne hurried home after breakfast and so remained in blissful ignorance of the disturbance which presently resulted in the Barry household until the late afternoon. When she went down to Mrs. Lynn's on an errand for Marilla. So, You and Diana nearly frightened poor old Miss Barry to death last night? Said Mrs. Lynde severely. But with a twinkle in her eye. Mrs Barry was here a few minutes ago on her way to Karmody. She's feeling real worried over it. Old Miss Barry was in a terrible temper when she got up this morning. And Josephine Barry's temper is no joke. I can tell you that. She wouldn't speak to Diana at all. Wasn't Diana's fault, Said Anne contritely. It was mine. I suggested racing to see who would get into bed first. I knew it, " said Mrs Lind, With the exultation of a correct guesser. I knew that idea came out of your head. Well, It's made a nice lot of trouble, That's what. Old Miss Barry came out to stay for a month. But she declares she won't stay another day. And is going right back to town tomorrow. Sunday and all as it is. She'd have gone today, If they could have taken her. She had promised to pay for a quarter's music lessons for Diana. But now she is determined to do nothing at all for such a tomboy. Oh, I guess they had a lively time of it there this morning. The Barrys must feel cut up. Old Miss Barry is rich and they'd like to keep on the good side of her. Of course, Mrs Barry didn't say just that to me, But I'm a pretty good judge of human nature, That's what. I'm such an unlucky girl, Mourned Anne. I'm always getting into scrapes myself and getting my best friends, People I'd shed my heart's blood for, Into them too. Can you tell me why it is so, Mrs. Lynde? It's because you're too heedless and impulsive, Child. That's what. You never stop to think. Whatever comes into your head to say or do, You say or do it without a moment's reflection. Oh. That's the best of it, Protested Anne. Something just flashes into your mind, So exciting, And you must out with it. If you stop to think it over, You spoil it all. Haven't you never felt that yourself, Mrs. Lynde? No. Mrs. Lind had not. She shook her head sagely. You must learn to think a little, Anne. That's what. The proverb you need to go by is look before you leap. Especially into spare room beds. Mrs. Lynde laughed comfortably over her mild joke, But Anne remained pensive. She saw nothing to laugh at in the situation, Which to her eyes appeared very serious. When she left Mrs Lins, She took her way across the crusted fields to Orchard Slope. Diana met her at the kitchen door. Your Aunt Josephine. Was very cross about it, Wasn't she? Whispered Anne. Yes, Answered Diana, Stifling a giggle with an apprehensive glance over her shoulder at the closed sitting room door. She was fairly dancing with rage, Anne. Oh, How she scolded. She said I was the worst behaved girl she ever saw and that my parents ought to be ashamed of the way they had brought me up. She says she won't stay and i'm sure i don't care but father and mother do Why didn't you tell them it was my fault? Demanded Anne. It's likely I'd do such a thing, Isn't it? " said Diana with just scorn. I'm no telltale, Anne Shirley. And anyhow, I was just as much to blame as you. I'm going in to tell her myself, " said Anne resolutely. Diana stared. Anne Shirley. You'd never. Why, She'll eat you alive. Don't frighten me any more than I am frightened, Implored Anne. I'd rather walk up to a cannon's mouth. But I've got to do it, Diana. It was my fault. And I've got to confess. I've had practice in confessing, Fortunately. Well. . . She's in the room, Said Diana. You can go in if you want to. I wouldn't dare. And I don't believe you'll do a bit of good. With this encouragement, Anne bearded the lion in its den. That is to say, Walked resolutely up to the sitting-room door and knocked faintly. A sharp, Come in, Followed. Miss Josephine Barry, Thin, Prim and rigid, Was knitting fiercely by the fire, Her wrath quite unappeased, And her eyes snapping through her gold-rimmed glasses. She wheeled around in her chair, Expecting to see Diana, And… beheld a white-faced girl whose great eyes were brimmed up with a mixture of desperate courage and shrinking terror. Who are you? Demanded Miss Josephine Barry without ceremony. Anne of Green Gables, Said the small visitor tremulously, Clasping her hands with her characteristic gesture, And I've come to confess, If you please. Confess what? The hat. It was all my fault. About jumping into bed on you last night. I suggested it. Diana would never have thought of such a thing, I'm sure. Diana! Is a very ladylike girl, Miss Barry, So you must see how unjust it is to blame her. Oh, I must, Hey. I rather think Diana did her share of the jumping at least. Such carryings on! In a respectable house. We were only in fun, Persisted Anne. I think you ought to forgive us, Miss Barry, Now that we've apologised. And anyhow, Please forgive Diana. Let her have her music lessons? Diana's heart is set on her music lessons, Miss Barry, And I know too well what it is to set your heart on a thing and not get it. If you must be cross with anyone, Be cross with me. I've been so used in my early days to having people cross at me that I can endure it much better than Diana can. Much of the snap had gone out of the old lady's eyes by this time. And was replaced by a twinkle of amused interest. But she still said severely, I don't think it is any excuse for you that you were only in fun. Little girls never indulged in that kind of fun. When I was young. You don't know what it is to be awakened out of a sound sleep. After a long and arduous journey by two great girls coming bounce down on you. I don't know, But I can imagine, Said Anne eagerly, I'm sure it must have been very disturbing. But then there is our side of it too. Have you any imagination, Miss Barry? If you have, Just put yourself in our place. We didn't know there was anybody in that bed and you nearly scared us to death. It was simply awful the way we felt. And then we couldn't sleep in the spare room after being promised. I suppose you are used to sleeping in spare rooms, But just imagine what you would feel like if you were a little orphan girl who had never had such an honour. All the snap had gone by this time. Miss Barry actually laughed. A sound which caused Diana, Waiting in speechless anxiety in the kitchen outside, To give a great gasp of relief. I'm afraid my imagination is a little rusty. It's so long since I used it, " she said. I dare say your claim to sympathy is just as strong as mine. It all depends on the way we look at it. Sit down here and tell me about yourself. I. . . "'I'm very sorry, I can't, ' said Anne firmly. "'I would like to, Because you seem like an interesting lady "'and you might even be a kindred spirit, "'although you don't look very much like it. "'But it is my duty to go home to Miss Marilla Cuthbert. '" Miss Marilla Cuthbert is a very kind lady. Who has taken me to bring up properly. She is doing her best. But it is very discouraging work. You must not blame her because I jumped on the bed. But before I go, I do wish you would tell me if you will forgive Diana and stay just as long as you meant to in Avonlea. I think, Perhaps, I will. If You will come over and talk to me occasionally, " said Miss Barry. That evening, Miss Barry gave Diana a silver bangle bracelet and told the senior members of the household that she had unpacked her valise. I've made up my mind to stay simply for the sake of getting better acquainted with that Anne girl, She said frankly. She amuses me. And at my time of life, An amusing person is a rarity. Marilla's only comment when she heard the story was, I told you so. This was for Matthew's benefit. Miss Barry stayed her month out and over. She was a more agreeable guest than usual, For Anne kept her in good humour. They became firm friends. When Miss Barry went away, She said, Remember, You Anne girl, When you come to town, You're to visit me, And I'll put you in my very sparest spare room bed to sleep. Miss Barry was a kindred spirit after all. Anne confided to Marilla, You wouldn't think so, To look at her, But she is. You don't find it right out at first, As in Matthew's case, But after a while, You come to see it. Kindred spirits are not so scarce as I used to think. It's splendid to find out there are so many of them. In the world.