Anne Of Avonlea (Bedtime Story) Chapter 28

With her trademark spirit and unwavering optimism, Anne Shirley takes on the role of a schoolteacher in her beloved village of Avonlea. Along the way, she nurtures young minds, forms unexpected friendships, and discovers the joys and trials of adulthood. Anne of Avonlea is a story of laughter, love, and life’s quiet yet profound transformations.

Transcript

CHAPTER XXVIII PRINCE COMES BACK TO THE ENCHANTED PALACE THE LAST DAY OF SCHOOL CAME AND WENT TRIUMPH SEMI-ANNUAL EXAMINATION WAS HOLD AND ANNE'S PUPILS ACQUAINTED THEMSELVES SPLENDIDLY. AT THE CLOSE THEY GAVE HER AN ADDRESS AND WRITING DESK. ALL THE GIRLS AND LADIES PRESENT CRIED, AND SOME OF THE BOYS HAD IT CAST UP TO THEM LATER ON THAT THEY CRIED TOO, ALTHOUGH THEY ALWAYS DENIED IT. Mrs. Harmon Andrews, Mrs. Peter Sloane, And Mrs. William Bell all calmed together and talked things over. I do think it is such a pity Anne is leaving when the children seem so much attached to her, Sighed Mrs. Peter Sloane, Who had a habit of sighing over everything, And even finished off her jokes that way. To be sure. Jane will do her duty, I've no doubt, Said Miss Andrews rather stiffly. I don't suppose she'll tell the children quite so many fairy tales, Or spend so much time roaming about the woods with them. But she has her name on the inspector's roll of honor, And the New Bridge people are in terrible state of over-harrying. I am really glad Anne is going to college, Said Mrs. Bell. She has always wanted it, And it will be a splendid thing for her. Well, I don't know. Mrs. Andrews was determined not to agree fully with anybody that day. I don't see that Anne needs any more education. She'll probably be marrying Gilbert Blight, If he's infatuation for her, Lest still he gets through college. And what good will Latin and Greek do her then? If they taught you at college how to manage a man, There might be some sense in her going. Miss Harmon Andrews, So Alan Lee gossiped, Whispered had never learned how to manage her man, And as a result the Andrews household was not exactly a model of domestic happiness. I see that the child town called to Mr. Alan is up before the presbytery, Said Miss Bell. That means we'll be losing him soon, I suppose. They're not going before September, Said Miss Sloan. It will be a great loss to the community, Though I always did think that Miss Alan best rather do gay for a minister's wife. But we are none of us perfect. Did you notice how neat and snug Mr. Harrison looked today? I never saw such a changed man. He goes to church every Sunday and has subscribed to salary. Hasn't that poor Irving grown to be a big boy, Said Miss Andrews. He was such a mite for his age when he came here. I declare I hardly knew him today. He's getting to look a lot like his father. He's a smart boy, Said Miss Bell. He is smart enough, But, Miss Andrews lured her voice, I believe he tells queer stories. Gracie came home from school one day last week with the greatest rigmarole he had. Told her about people who lived down at the shore, Stories there couldn't be a word of truth in, You know. I told Gracie not to believe him, And she said Paul didn't intend her to. But if he didn't, What did he tell them to her for? Aunt says Paul is a genius, Said Miss Sloan. He may be. You never know what to expect of the Americans, Said Miss Andrews. Miss Andrews' only acquaintance with the word genius was derived from the colloquial fashion of calling any eccentric individual a queer genius. She probably taught with Mary Jo that it meant a person with something wrong in their upper story. Back in the schoolroom, Anne was sitting alone at her desk, As she had sat on the first day of school two years before, Her face leaning on her hand, Her dewy eyes looking wistfully out of the window to the lake of shining waters. Her heart was so wrung over the parting with her pupils that for a moment college had lost all its charm. She still felt the clasp of Annetta Bell's arms about her neck and heard the childish wail, I'll never love any teacher as much as you, Miss Shirley, Never, Never. For two years she had worked earnestly and faithfully, Making many mistakes and learning from them. She had had her reward. She had taught her schoolers something, But she felt that they had taught her much more. Lessons of tenderness, Self-control, Innocent wisdom, Lore of childish hearts. Perhaps she had not succeeded in inspiring any wonderful ambitions in her pupils, But she had taught them, More by her own sweet personality than by all her careful precepts, That it was good and necessary in the years that were before them to live their lives finely and graciously, Holding fast to truth and courtesy and kindness, Keeping aloof from all that savored of falsehood and meanness and vulgarity. They were perhaps all unconscious of having learned such lessons, But they would remember and practice them long after. They had forgotten the capital of Afghanistan and the dates of the Wars of the Roses. Another chapter in my life is closed, Said Anne aloud as she locked her desk. She really felt very sad over it, But the romance in the idea of that closed chapter did comfort her a little. Anne spent the fourth night at Eco Lodge, Early in her vacation, And everybody concerned had a good time. She took Miss Lavender on a shopping expedition out to town and persuaded her to buy a new organ detress. Then came the excitement of cutting and making it together, While the happy childhood of the fourth basted and swept up clippings. Miss Lavender had complained that she could not feel much interest in anything, But the sparkle came back to her eyes over her pretty dress. What a foolish, Frivolous person I must be, She sighed. I am wholesomely ashamed to think that a new dress, Even it is a forget-me-not organdy, Should exhilarate me so, When a good conscience and extra contribution to the foreign missions couldn't do it. Midway in her visit, Anne went home to Green Gables for a day to mend the twins' stockings and settle up Davy's accumulated store of questions. In the evening she went down to the shore road to see Paul Irving. As she passed by the low square window of the Irving sitting room, She got a glimpse of Paul on somebody's lap, But the next moment he came flying through the hall. Oh, Miss Shirley, He cried excitedly. You cannot think what has happened. Something so splendid. Father is here. Just think of that. Father is here. Come right in. Father, This is my beautiful teacher. You know her, Father. Stephen Irving came forward to meet Anne with a smile. He was a tall, Handsome man of middle age, With iron-gray hair, Deep-set, Dark blue eyes, And a strong, Sad face splendidly modelled about chin and brow. Just the face for a hero of romance. Anne thought with a thrill of intense satisfaction it was so disappointing to meet someone who ought to be a hero and find him bald or stooped or otherwise lacking in manly beauty, And would have thought it dreadful if the object of Miss Lavender's romance had not looked the part. So this is my little son's beautiful teacher of whom I have heard so much, Said Mr. Irving with a hearty handshake. Paul's letters have been so full of you, Miss Shirley, That I feel as if I were pretty well-acquainted with you already. I want to thank you for that, For what you have done for Paul. I think that your influence has been just what he needed. Mother is one of the best and dearest of women, But her robust matter of fact, Scotch common sense, Could not always understand a temperament like my laddie's. What was lacking in her you have supplied. Between you, I think Paul's training in these two past years has been as nearly ideal as a motherless boy's could be. Everybody likes to be appreciated, Under Mr. Irving's praise. Anne's face burst flower-like into rosy blue, And the busy, Weary man of the world, Looking at her, Thought he had never seen a fairer, Sweeter slip of girlhood than this little down-east schoolteacher with her red hair and wonderful eyes. Paul sat between them blissfully happy. I never dreamed father was coming, He said radiantly. Even grandma didn't know it. It was a great surprise. As a general thing, Paul shook his brown curls bravely. I don't like to be surprised. You lose all the fun of expecting things when you are surprised. But in a case like this, It is all right. Father came last night after I had gone to bed, And after grandma and Mary Jo had stopped being surprised, He and grandma came upstairs to look at me, Not meaning to wake me up till morning. But I woke right up and saw father. I tell you I just sprang at him. With a hug like a bear's, Said Mr. Irving. Putting his arms around Paul's shoulder smilingly, I hardly knew my boy he had grown so big and brown and sturdy. I don't know which was the most pleased to see, Father. Grandma or I, Continued Paul. Grandma's been in the kitchen all day, Making the things father likes to eat. She wouldn't trust them to Mary Jo, She says. That's her way of showing gladness. I like best just to sit and talk to father. But I am going to leave you for a little while now, If you'll excuse me. I must get the cows for Mary Jo. That is one of my daily duties. When Paul had scampered away to do his daily duty, Mr. Irving talked to Anne of various matters, But Anne felt that he was thinking of something else underneath all the time. Presently it came to the surface. In Paul's last letter he spoke of going with you to visit an old friend of mine, Miss Lewis, At the Stone House in Grafton. Do you know her well? Yes, Indeed, She's a very dear friend of mine, Was Anne's demure reply, Which gave no hint of the sudden thrill that that tingled over her from head to foot at Mr. Irving's question. Anne felt instinctively that romance was peeping at her around the corner. Mr. Irving rose and went to the window, Looking out on a great, Golden billowing sea. A wild wind was harping. For a few moments there was silence in the little dark, Old room. Then he turned and looked down into Anne's sympathetic face with a smile, Half whimsical, Half tender. I wonder how much you know, He said. I know all about it, Replied Anne promptly. You see, She explained hastily, Miss Lavender and I are very intimate. She wouldn't tell things of such a sick nature to everybody. We are kindred spirits. Yes, I believe you are. Well, I am going to ask a favor of you. I would like to go and see Miss Lavender, If she will let me. Will you ask her if I may come? Would she not? Oh, Indeed, She would. Yes, This was romance, The real thing, With all the charm of rhyme and story and dream. It was a little belated, Perhaps, Like a rose blooming in October which should have bloomed in June, But nonetheless a rose, Full of sweetness and fragrance, With a gleam of gold in its heart. Never did Anne's feet bear her on a more winning errand than on that walk through the beechwoods to Grafton the next morning. She found Miss Lavender in the garden. Anne was fearfully excited. Her hands grew cold and her voice trembled. Miss Lavender, I have something to tell you, Something very important. Can you guess what it is? Anne never supposed that Miss Lavender could guess, But Miss Lavender's face grew very pale and Miss Lavender said in a quiet, Still voice, From which all the color and sparkle that Miss Lavender's voice usually suggested had faded, Stephen Irving is home. How did you know? Who told you? Cried Anne disappointedly, Vexed that her great revelation had been anticipated. Nobody. I knew that must be it, Just from the way you spoke. He wants to come and see you, Said Anne. May I send him word that he may? Yes, Of course, Fluttered Miss Lavender. There's no reason why he shouldn't. He is only coming as any old friend might. Anne had her own opinion about that as she hastened into the house to write a note at Miss Lavender's desk. Oh, It is delightful to be living in a storybook, She thought gaily. It will come out all right, Of course, It must, And Paul will have a mutter after his own heart, And everybody will be happy. But Mr. Irving will take Miss Lavender away, And dear knows what will happen to the little stone house. And so there are two sides to it, As there seems to be to everything in this world. The important note was written, And Anne herself carried it to the Grafton post office, Where she waylaid the mail carrier and asked him to leave it at the Avonlea office. It is so very important, Anne assured him anxiously. The mail carrier was a rather grumpy old personage, Who did not at all look the part of a messenger of Cupid, And Anne was none too certain that his memory was to be trusted. But he said he would do his best to remember, And she had to be contented with that. Charlotte the fourth felt that some mystery pervaded the stone house that afternoon, A mystery from which she was excluded. Miss Lavender roamed about the garden in a distracted fashion. Anne, Too, Seemed obsessed, A demon of unrest, And walked to and fro and went up and down. Charlotte the fourth endured it, Till patience ceased to be a virtue. Then she confronted Anne on the occasion of that romantic young person's third aimless peregrination through the kitchen. Please, Miss Shirley, Ma'am, Said Charlotte the fourth, With an indignant toss of her very blue brows. It is plain to be seen you and Miss Lavender have got a secret, And I think, Begging your pardon if I am too forward, Miss Shirley, Ma'am, That it's really mean not to tell me when we've been all been such chumps. Oh, Charlotte the dear, I'd have told you all about it if it were my secret, But it is Miss Lavender's, You see. However, I will tell you this much, And if nothing comes of it, You must never breathe a word about it to a living soul. You see, Prince Charming is coming to-night. He came a long ago, But in a foolish moment went away and wandered afar, And forgot the secret of the magic pathway to Enchanted Castle, Where the princess was sweeping her faithful heart out for him. But at last he remembered it again, And the princess is still waiting, Because nobody but her own dear prince could carry her off. Oh, Miss Shirley, Ma'am, What is that in prose? Gasped the mystified Charlotte, Anne laughed. In prose, An old friend of Miss Lavender's is coming to see her to-night. Do you mean an old beau of hers? Demanded the little Charlotte. That is properly what I do mean in prose, Answered Anne gravely. It is Paul's father, Stephen Irving, And goodness knows what will come of it. But let us hope for the best, Charlotte. I hope that he'll marry Miss Lavender, Was Charlotte's response. Some women's intended from the start to be old maids, And I am afraid I am one of them, Miss Shirley, Ma'am, Because I have awful little patience with men. Miss Lavender never was, And I have been awfully worried, Thinking what on earth she'd do when I got so big I'd have to go to Boston. There ain't any more girls in our family, And dear knows what she'd do if she got some stranger that might laugh at her pretendings and leave things lying around out of their place and not be willing to be called Charlotte V. She might get someone who wouldn't be as unlucky as me in breaking dishes, But she'd never get anyone who'd love her better. And the faithful little handmaiden dashed to the oven door with a sniff. They went through the form of having tea as usual that night at Eco Lodge. Nobody really ate anything. After tea Miss Lavender went to her room and put on her new forget-me-not organdy one and did her hair for her. Both were dreadfully excited, But Miss Lavender pretended to be very calm and indifferent. I must really meant that rent in the curtain tomorrow, She said anxiously, Inspecting it as if it were the only thing of any importance just then. Those curtains have not worn as well as they should, Considering the price I paid. Dear me, Charlotte has forgotten to dust the stair railing again. I really must speak to her about it. Anne was sitting on the porch steps when Stephen Irving came down the lane and across the garden. This is the one place where time stands still, He said, Looking around him with delighted eyes. There's nothing changed about this house or garden. Since I was here 25 years ago, It makes me feel young again. You know time always does stand still. In an enchanted place, Said Anne seriously, It is only when the prince comes that things begin to happen. Mr. Irving smiled a little sadly into her uplifted face, All a star with its youth and promise. Sometimes the prince comes too late, He said. He did not ask Anne to translate her remark into prose, Like all kindred spirits he understood. Oh, No, Not if he is the real prince coming to the true princess, Said Anne, Shaking her red head decidedly, As she opened the parlor door when he had gone in. She shuddered tightly behind him and turned to confront Charlotte the fourth, Who was in the hall, All noughts and becks and wretched smiles. Oh, Miss Shirley, Ma'am, She pleaded, I peeked from the kitchen window, And he's awful handsome. And just the right age for Miss Lavender. And oh, Miss Shirley, Ma'am, Do you think it would be much harm to listen at the door? It would be dreadful, Charlotte, Said Anne firmly. So just you come away with me out of the reach of temptation. I can't do anything, It's awful to hang around and just wait inside, Charlotte. But if he doesn't propose after all, Miss Shirley, Ma'am, You can never be sure of them men. My older sister, Charlotte the first, Thought she was engaged to one once, But it turned out he had a different opinion. And she says she'll never trust one of them again. And I heard of another case where a man thought he wanted one girl awful bad, And when it was really her sister he wanted all the time. When a man doesn't know his own mind, Miss Shirley, Ma'am, How's a poor woman going to be sure of it? We will go to the kitchen and clean the silver spoons. Said Anne. That is a task which won't require much thinking, Fortunately, For I couldn't think tonight and it will pass the time. It passed an hour. Then, Just as Anne laid down the last shining spoon, They heard the front door shut. Both sought comfort fearfully in each other's eyes. Oh, Miss Shirley, Ma'am, If he is going away this early there's nothing into it, And never will be. They flew to the window. Mr. Irving had no intention of going away. He and Miss Lavender were strolling slowly down the middle path, The stone bench. Oh, Miss Shirley, Ma'am, He's got his arm around her waist, Whispered Charlotte the Fourth delightedly. He must have posed to her, Or she'd never allow it. Anne caught Charlotte the Fourth by her own plump waist and danced her around the kitchen until they were both out of breath. Oh, Charlotta, She cried gaily. I am neither prophetess nor the daughter of a prophetess, But I am going to make a prediction. There will be a wedding in this old stone house before the maple leaves are red. Do you want that translated into prose, Charlotta? No, I can understand that, Said Charlotte. A wedding ain't poetry. Why, Miss Shirley, Ma'am? You are crying. What for? Oh, Because it is all so beautiful, And the story bookish and romantic and sad, Said Anne, Winging the tears out of her eyes. It is all perfectly lovely. There's a little sadness mixed up in it, Too, Somehow. Of course there is a risk in marrying anybody, Conceded Charlotte the Fourth. But when all's said and done, Miss Shirley, Ma'am, There is many a worse thing than a husband.