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ANNE OF
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Anne of
Green Gables

»
L. M. MONTGOMERY

" The good stars met in your horoscope,
Made you of spirit and fire and dew."

— BROWNIHO.

THE RYERSON PRESS
TORONTO HALIFAX

1908

By L. C. Page & Company
(INCORPORATED)

Entered at Stationers' Hall, London

First Canadian Edition, April, 1942
Reprinted, January, 1943
Reprinted, July, 1944
Reprinted, July, 1945
Reprinted, November, 1946

TO THE MEMORY OF

2064855

L. M. MONTGOMERY

Mark Twain called Anne of Green Gables, "The
sweetest creation of child life yet written." Its
immense popularity is proof that many people, like
Mark Twain, have fallen under the spell of Anne's
charm. Over 760,000 copies of the book have
already been sold.

L. M. Montgomery (Mrs. Ewan Mac Donald) has
almost a score of other books to her credit and these,
like Anne of Green Gables, have grown out of her
life. She was born November 20, 1874, at Clifton,
Prince Edward Island. When she was a year old,
her mother died and she was brought up by her
grandparents at Cavendish, P.E.I. She early
showed signs of literary ability, at twelve years of
age winning a short story contest sponsored by the
Montreal Star. In 1890, when she was sixteen,
she spent a year at Prince Albert, Saskatchewan,
with her father, who had married again. For one
winter she attended Dalhousie University, where
she was a student of Dr. Archibald MacMechan.

While still in her teens, she taught school at Biddies-
ford and Ellerslie in P.E.I. She returned to
Cavendish, at twenty years of age, to live with her
grandmother. Here she met and in 1911, married,
the Reverend Ewan MacDonald, who was the
Presbyterian minister. They moved to Leaskdale,
Ontario, later to Norval, then to Toronto, where
they lived from 1935 to 1942. Mrs. MacDonald
died in April, 1942, just as the first Canadian
edition of her books was coming off the presses.

"Green Gables," together with the farm where Lucy
Maud Montgomery grew up, has now been included
in the National Park of Prince Edward Island.
Many spots in the district, which her writings have
made famous, have been preserved as they were
described in her books. The "Avonlea" of her
novels is the town of Cavendish, which she loved
especially for the fact that it was close to the sea.
She wrote, later, of her grandparents' farm that it
was "twelve miles from a railroad station, twenty-
four miles from the nearest town, but only one-half
mile from the sea." It was here that her thoughts
turned in later years, when she was living in far
distant places. And it is here that she is buried,
in the village of Cavendish, where she started her
literary career.

CONTENTS

CBAPTnt JACK

I. MRS. RACHEL LYNDE Is SURPRISED . 1

II. MATTHEW CUTHBERT Is SURPRISED . 12

III. MARILLA CUTHBERT Is SURPRISED . 30

IV. MORNING AT GREEN GABLES . . 39
V. ANNE'S HISTORY 48

VI. MARILLA MAKES UP HER MIND . . 56

VII. ANNE SAYS HER PRAYERS ... 64

VIII. ANNE'S BRINGING-UP Is BEGUN . . 69

IX. MRS. RACHEL LYNDE Is PROPERLY

HORRIFIED 80

X. ANNE'S APOLOGY 90

XI. ANNE'S IMPRESSIONS OF SUNDAY-
SCHOOL 100

XII. A SOLEMN Vow AND PROMISE . . 107

XIII. THE DELIGHTS OF ANTICIPATION . 115

XIV. ANNE'S CONFESSION .... 122
XV. A TEMPEST IN THE SCHOOL TEAPOT . 134

XVI. DIANA Is INVITED TO TEA WITH

TRAGIC RESULTS . . . .154

XVII. A NEW INTEREST IN LIFE . . . 169
XVIII. ANNE TO THE RESCUE . . . .177

XIX. A CONCERT, A CATASTROPHE, AND A

CONFESSION 189

XX. A GOOD IMAGINATION GONE WRONG 204

XXI. A NEW DEPARTURE IN FLAVOURINGS 213

XXII. ANNE Is INVITED OUT TO TEA . . 227

TU

Vlll

XXIII.

XXIV.

XXV.

XXVI.

XXVII.

XXVIII.

XXIX.

XXX.

XXXI.

XXXII.

XXXIII.

XXXIV.

XXXV.

XXXVI.

XXXVII.

XXXVIII.

CONTENTS

RMH

ANNE COMES TO GRIEF IN AN AFFAIR

OF HONOUR 233

Miss STACY AND HER PUPILS GET UP

A CONCERT 242

MATTHEW INSISTS ON PUFFED

SLEEVES 248

THE STORY CLUB Is FORMED . .261

VANITY AND VEXATION OF SPIRIT . 271
AN UNFORTUNATE LILY MAID . .281

AN EPOCH IN ANNE'S LIFE . . . 292

THE QUEEN'S CLASS Is ORGANIZED . 304

WHERE THE BROOK AND RIVER MEET 319

THE PASS LIST Is OUT .... 323

THE HOTEL CONCERT .... 339

A QUEEN'S GIRL 352

THE WINTER AT QUEEN'S . . . 362

THE GLORY AND THE DREAM . . 369

THE REAPER WHOSE NAME Is DEATH 377

THE BEND IN THE ROAD 386

ANNE OF GREEN
GABLES

CHAPTER I

MRS. RACHEL LYNDE 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 away back in the woods of
the old Cuthbert place ; it was reputed to be an intri-
cate, headlong brook in its earlier course through
those woods, with dark secrets of pool and cascade;
but by the time it reached Lynde's Hollow it was a
quiet, well-conducted little stream, for not even a
brook could run past Mrs. Rachel Lynde's door with-
out due regard for decency and decorum; it prob-
ably 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 where-
fores thereof.

2 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

There are plenty of people, in Avonlea and out of
it, who can attend closely to their neighbours' busi-
ness by dint of neglecting their own ; but Mrs. Rachel
Lynde 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 sixteen 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-see-
ing 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 Lynde — a meek
little man whom Avonlea people called "Rachel
Lynde's husband" — was sowing his late turnip seed
on the hill field beyond the barn ; and Matthew Cuth-
bert ought to have been sowing his on the big red
brook field away over by Green Gables. Mrs. Rachel

MRS. RACHEL LYNDE IS SURPRISED 3

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 sow
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 be-
tokened 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, was 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

4 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

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 to-day."

Accordingly after tea Mrs. Rachel set out; she
had not far to go; the big, rambling, orchard-em-
bowered house where the Cuthberts lived was a scant
quarter of a mile up the road from Lynde'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 retreat-
ing 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 visi-
ble 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 ruther look at people. To be sure, they
seem contented enough; but then, I suppose, they're

MRS. RACHEL LYNDE IS SURPRISED 5

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 on the other with
prim Lombardies. Not a stray stick nor stone was
to be seen, for Mrs. Rachel would 'lave 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 overbrimming 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 pain-
fully 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
back yard, 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.

6 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

had taken mental note of everything that was on
that table. There were three plates laid, so that
Marilla must be expecting some one home with
Matthew to tea; but the dishes were every-day
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 gray
streaks and was always twisted up in a hard little
knot behind with two wire hairpins stuck agres-
sively 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 to-day. I thought maybe he
was going to the doctor's."

Manila's lips twitched understandingly. She had
expected Mrs. Rachel up; she had known that the

MRS. RACHEL LYNDE IS SURPRISED 7

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 to-night."

If Marilla had said that Matthew had gone to
Bright River to meet a kangaroo trom 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 on any well-regulated Avon-
lea farm instead of being an unheard of innovation.

Mrs. Rachel felt that she had received a severe
mental jolt. She thought in exclamation points. A
boy! Marilla and Matthew Cuthbert of all people
adopting a boy! From an orphan asylum! Well,
the world was certainly turning upside down! She
would be surprised at 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

8 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

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
her 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
stupid, half -grown little French boys; and as soon
as you do get one broke into your ways and taught
something he's up and off to the lobster canneries or
the States. At first Matthew suggested getting a
Home boy. But I said 'no' flat to that They
may be all right — 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 sounder at nights 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 ten or eleven.
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 to-day— the mail-man
brought it from the station — saying they were com-
ing on the five- thirty train to-night So Matthew

MRS. RACHEL LYNDE IS SURPRISED 9

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 ad-
justed 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
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 any-
thing that when he does I always feel it's my duty
to give in. And as for the risk, there's risks in

10 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

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. He 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 strychnine
in the well — I heard of a case over in New Bruns-
wick 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 accom-
plishment 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 Mat-
thew 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 them 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 Manila's relief, for
the latter felt her doubts and fears reviving under the
influence of Mrs. Rachel's pessimism.

MRS. RACHEL LYNDE IS SURPRISED 11

"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 Manila 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 doubt-
ful. It seems uncanny to think of a child at Green
Gables somehow; there's never been one there, for
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 fulness 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 II

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 balsamy
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 and
the meadows sloped away in the distance to horizon
mists of pearl and purple ; while

"The little birds 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 un-
gainly figure and long iron-gray hair that touched
Ms stooping shoulders, and a full, soft brown beard

12

which he had worn ever since he was twenty. In
fact, he had looked at twenty very much as he looked
at sixty, lacking a little of the grayness.

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 tnly living crea-
ture 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 rigid-
ity and expectation of her attitude and expression.
She was sitting there waiting for something or some-
body and, since sitting and waiting was the only
thing to do just then, she sat and waited with all her
might and main.

Matthew encountered the station-master locking up
the ticket-office preparatory to going home for supper,
and asked him if the five-thirty train would soon be
along.

"The five-thirty, 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 ladies' 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.

U ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

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 and gave her
into my charge. Said you and your sister were
adopting her from an orphan asylum and that you
would be along for her presently. That's all / know
about it — and I haven't got any more orphans con-
cealed hereabouts."

"I don't understand," said Matthew helplessly,
wishing that Manila 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 than 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. Mat-
thew groaned in spirit as he turned about and shuf-
fled 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. Mat-
thew 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 eleven, garbed in a very short,
very tight, very ugly dress of yellowish gray wincey.

MATTHEW CUTHBERT IS SURPRISED IS

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, that looked green in some
lights and moods and gray in others.

So far, the ordinary observer; an extraordinary
observer might have seen that th^. 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 ob-
server 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 speak-
ing 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 to-night 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,

16 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

don't you think ? You could imagine you were dwell-
ing in marble halls, couldn't you? And I was quite
sure you would come for me in the morning, if you
didn't to-night"

Matthew had taken the scrawny little hand awk-
wardly in his; 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 Manila 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 horse is over in the yard. Give me your
bag."

"Oh, I can carry it," the child responded cheer-
fully. "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. Oh, 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

MATTHEW CUTHBERT IS SURPRISED 17

•

worse than anything you could imagine. Mrs. Spen-
cer 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 is
so little scope for the imagination in an asylum —
only just in the other orphans. It was pretty inter-
esting 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 nights 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.

"Isn't that beautiful? What did that tree, leaning
out from the bank, all white and lacy, make you think
of?" she asked.

18

"Well now, I dunno," 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
some day I shall have a white dress. That is my
highest ideal of earthly 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 three hundred yards
of wincey 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 beau-
tiful pale blue silk dress — because when you are
imagining you might as well imagine something
worth while — 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

MATTHEW CUTHBERT IS SURPRISED 19

to get sick, watching to see that I didn't fall over-
board. She said she never saw the beat of me for
prowling about. But if it kept her from being sea-
sick it's a mercy I did prowl, isn't it? And I wanted
to see everything that 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, and 1
used to imagine I was living here, but I never really
expected I would. It's delightful when your imagi-
nations come true, isn't it? But those red roads are
so funny. When we got into the train at Charlotte-
town 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 ? And what does make the roads red ?"

"Well now, I dunno," said Matthew.

"Well, that is one of the things to find out some-
time. 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 knew all about every-
thing, would it? There'd be no scope for imagina-
tion then, would there? But 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

20 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

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 them-
selves 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 con-
science, but little girls were worse. He detested the
way they had of sidling past him timidly, with side-
wise glances, as if they expected him to gobble them
up at a mouthful if they ventured to say a word.
This 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 proc-
esses 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

MATTHEW CUTHBERT IS SURPRISED 21

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 Junebells 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

22 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

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 had red hair. I don't mind the other things so
much — the freckles and the green eyes and my skin-
niness. 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 glorious 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 ala-
baster 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 some-
thing 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 in-
genuously.

MATTHEW CUTHBERT IS SURPRISED 23

"I have, often. Which would you rather be if you
had the choice — divinely beautiful or 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!! Oh, 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 sim-
ply rounded a curve in the road and found them-
selves 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, wide-spread-
ing 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
leaned 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 back-
ground. Through Newbridge, a bustling little vil-

24 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

lage 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 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
had been wondering afar, star-led.

"Oh, Mr. Cuthbert," she whispered, "that place
we came through — that 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? Oh, pretty doesn't seem the right word
to use. Nor beautiful, either. They don't go far
enough. Oh, 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 ache 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 times — whenever I see any-
thing royally beautiful. But they shouldn't call that
lovely place the Avenue. There is no meaning in

MATTHEW CUTHBERT IS SURPRISED 25

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 DeVere. Other peo-
ple 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. Something1 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

26 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

leaned out from the bank like a white-clad girl tip-
toeing 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 gray house
peering around a white apple orchard on a slope
beyond and, although it was not yet quite dark, a
light was shining from one of its windows.

"That's Barry's pond," said Matthew.

"Oh, 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."

"Oh, I don't think that can be exactly the same
kind of a 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 Slope's 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 eleven. Her name is Diana."

MATTHEW CUTHBERT IS SURPRISED 27

"Oh!" with a long indrawing of breath. "What
a perfectly lovely name !"

"Well now, I dunno. There's something dreadful
heathenish about it, seems to me. I'd ruther 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 / 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 imag-
ining that perhaps, just as we get to the middle,
they'll crumple up like a jack-knife 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. Be-
cause, 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 good
night 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
Gables over — "

"Oh, don't tell me," she interrupted breathlessly,
catching at his partially raised arm and shutting her

28 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

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 prom-
ise.

"That's it, isn't it?" she said, pointing.

Matthew slapped the reins on the sorrel's back de-
lightedly.

"Well now, you've guessed it! But I reckon Mrs.
Spencer described it so's 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 to-day.
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 drovo over Lynde'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 approach-
ing 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 crea-
ture.

The yard was quite dark as they turned into it
and the poplar leaves were ruetling silkily all round
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 con-
tained "all her worldly goods," she followed him
into the house.

CHAPTER III

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 boy! But there must have been a boy," in-
sisted 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!" ejacu-
lated Marilla.

During this dialogue the child had remained silent,
her eyes roving from one to the other, all the anima-
tion fading out of her face. Suddenly she seemed to
grasp the full meaning of what had been said.

30

MARILLA CUTHBERT IS SURPRISED 31

Dropping her precious carpet-bag she sprang for-
ward 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 ex-
pected 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 Manila's grim expression.

"Well, don't cry any more. We're not going to
turn you out-of-doors to-night. 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.

32 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

"Call you Cordelia! Is that your name?"

"No-o-o, it's not exactly my name, but I would
love to be called Cordelia. It's such a perfectly ele-
gant name."

"I don't know what on earth you mean. If Cor-
delia isn't your name, what is ?"

"Anne 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 unsympa-
thetic 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 recon-
cile myself to not being called Cordelia."

"Very well, then, Anne spelled with an e, can you

MARILLA CUTHBERT IS SURPRISED 33

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 eleven 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 Ma-
rilla, staring at Matthew.

"She — 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. She has
nut-brown hair. If I was very beautiful and had
nut-brown hair would you keep me?"

"No. We want a boy to help Matthew on the
farm. A girl would 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

34 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

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, eying 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 imag-
ine 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 deli-
cious. 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 ex-
tremely 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

MARILLA CUTHBERT IS SURPRISED 35

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. Manila 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.

"I suppose you have a nightgown?" she ques-
tioned.

Anne nodded.

"Yes, I have two. The matron of the asylum
made them for me. They're fearfully skimpy.
There is never enough to go around in an asylum,
so things are always skimpy — at least in a poor
asylum like ours. I hate skimpy night-dresses. But
one can dream just as well in them as in lovely trail-
ing ones, with frills around the neck, that's one con-
solation."

"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

36 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

the bed, a high, old-fashioned one, with four dark,
low-turned posts. In the other corner was the afore-
said three-cornered table adorned with a fat, red
velvet pincushion hard enough to turn the point of
the most adventurous pin. Above it hung a little
six by eight mirror. Midway between table and bed
was the window, with an icy white muslin frill over
it, and opposite it was the wash-stand. 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 raiment 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 pro-
ceeded to wash the supper dishes, Matthew was

MARILLA CUTHBERT IS SURPRISED 37

smoking — a sure sign of perturbation of mind. He
seldom smoked, for Manila 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
wrath fully. "This is what comes of sending word
instead of going ourselves. Robert Spencer's folks
have twisted that message somehow. One of us will
have to drive over and see Mrs. Spencer to-morrow,
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 Cuthbert, you don't mean to say you
think we ought to keep her !"

Manila's astonishment could not have been greater
if Matthew had expressed a predilection for standing
on his head.

"Well now, 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 be-

38 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

witched 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 There's something I don't understand
about her. No, she's got to be despatched 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, Ma-
rilla," 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 up-stairs, in the east gable, a lonely,
heart-hungry, friendless child cried herself to sleep.

MORNING 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 of 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 <sut 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.
Oh, 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 im-
agination here.

A huge cherry-tree grew outside, so close that its

40 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

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 or-
chard, 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 air-
ily 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
gray 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, away down over green, low-sloping fields, was
a sparkling blue glimpse of sea.

Anne's beauty-loving eyes lingered on it all, tak-
ing 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 loveli-
ness 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

MORNING AT GREEN GABLES 41

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 winter-time 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 brook
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 for ever and ever. It was a great com-
fort while it lasted. But the worst of imagining

42 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

things is that the time comes when you have to stop
and that hurts."

"You'd better get dressed and come down-stairs
and never mind your imaginings," said Marilla as
soon as she could get a word in edgewise. "Break-
fast 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 down-stairs in ten 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 Manila'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 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 imag-
ination. But I'm glad it's not rainy to-day 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?"

MORNING AT GREEN GABLES 43

"For pity's sake hold your tongue," said Marilla.
8<You talk entirely too much for a little girl."

Thereupon Anne held her tongue so obediently
and thoroughly that her continued silence made Ma-
rilla rather nervous, as if in the presence of some-
thing not exactly natural. Matthew also held his
tongue, — but this at least was natural, — so that the
meal was a very silent one.

As it progressed Anne became more and more ab-
stracted, 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 cloudland,
borne aloft on the wings of imagination. Who
would want such a child about the place?

Yet Matthew wished to keep her, of all unac-
countable 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

44 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

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'rt prob-
lem enough in all conscience. What's to be done
with you I don't know. Matthew is a most ridicu-
lous 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 wasji 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 up-stairs and make your bed."

Anne washed the dishes deftly enough, as Ma-
rilla, 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

MORNING AT GREEN GABLES 45

and glow as effectually blotted out as if some one
had clapped an extinguisher on her.

"What's the matter now?" demanded Manila.

"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 lov-
ing 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 unresigned again. What is the name
of that geranium on the window-sill, 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 — Bonny would do — may I call it
Bonny 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

!*6 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

people. How do you know but that it hurts a gera-
nium's feelings just to be called a geranium and noth-
ing else? You wouldn't like to be called nothing
but a woman all the time. Yes, I shall call it Bonny.
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 Manila, beating a retreat down
cellar after potatoes. "She is kind of interesting,
as Matthew says. I can feel already that I'm won-
dering what on earth she'll say next She'll be cast-
ing a spell over me, too. She's cast it over Matthew.
That look he gave me when he went out said every-
thing 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

MORNING AT GREEN GABLES 47

out for you and I'll be home in time to milk the
cows."

Still Matthew said nothing and Manila 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 Buote 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 Vi
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 imagina-
tion. Did you ever know of anybody whose hair
was red when she was young, but got to be another
Colour 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.'*

Anne sighed.

"Well, that is another hope gone. My life is a
perfect graveyard of buried hopes. That's a sen-
tence I read in a book once, and I say it over to

43

ANNE'S HISTORY 49

comfort myself whenever I'm disappointed in any-
thing."

"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
to-day?"

"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- bald facts. Begin at the beginning.
Where were you born and how old are you ?"

"I was eleven last March," said Anne, resigning

60 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

herself to bald 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, feel-
ing 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 as 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 sup-
pose my father could have been a good man even if
he had been called Jedediah; 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

ANNE'S HISTORY 51

the homeliest baby she ever saw, I was so scrawny
and tiny and nothing but eyes, but that 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 better than other peo-
ple? 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 — reproach ful-like.

"Mr. and Mrs. Thomas moved away from Boling-
broke 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

52 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

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 saw-mill 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. Ham-
mond so firmly, when the last pair came. I used
to get so dreadfully tired carrying them about

"I lived up river with Mrs. Hammond over two
years, and then Mr. Hammond died and Mrs. Ham-
mond broke up housekeeping. She divided her chil-
dren 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 four months
until Mrs. Spencer came."

Anne finished up with another sigh, 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 Ma-
rilla, 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

ANNE'S HISTORY 53

it in winter and there was 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 'Edin-
burgh after Flodden,' and 'Bingen on the Rhine/ and
lots 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.

"O-o-o-h," 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 suc-
cession, don't you think ? But I feel sure they meant
to be good to me."

Marilla asked no more questions. Anne gave her-
self up to a silent rapture over the shore road and
Marilla guided the sorrel abstractedly while she pon-
dered deeply. Pity was suddenly stirring in her

54

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 a 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 a 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 lone-
some." 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.

ANNE'S HISTORY 65

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? Oh, I can just imagine
myself doing it. What big house is that just ahead,
please ?"

"That's the White Sands Hotel. Mr. Kirke 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 don't want to get there.
Somehow, it will seem like the end of everything."

CHAPTER VI

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 to-day, 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 smilelessly. 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 sent 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 ten or eleven years old."

"Marilla Cuthbert, you don't say so!" said Mrs.
Spencer in distress. "Why, Robert sent the 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.

56

MARILLA MAKES UP HER MIND 57

"She certainly did, Miss Cuthbert," corroborated
Flora Jane earnestly.

"I'm dreadfully sorry," said Mrs. Spencer. "It is
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 terri-
ble 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 now 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 her. I
call it positively providential."

Marilla did not look as if she thought Providence
had much to do with the matter. Here was an un-
expectedly 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

58 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

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 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 parlour,
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 wriggle. 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

MARILLA MAKES UP HER MIND 59

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. !fo 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 frorrt
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 spell-
ing thereof, "and I'm eleven years old."

"Humph! 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 fractious, and I'm clean worn out at-
tending to him. If you like I can take her right
home now."

Marilla looked at Anne and softened at sight oi
the child's pale face with its look of mute misery — -
the misery of a helpless little creature who finds it-
self once more caught in the trap from which it had
escaped. Marilla felt an uncomfortable conviction

60 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

that, if she denied the appeal of that look, it would
haunt her to her dying day. Moreover, she did not
fancy Mrs. Blewett. 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 Mat-
thew 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 we'll bring or send her over to you to-mor-
row 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 un-
graciously.

During Manila's speech a sunrise had been dawn-
ing 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.

"Oh, Miss Cuthbert, did you really say that per-
haps you would let me stay at Green Gables?" 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 ?/'

MARILLA MAKES UP HER MIND 61

"I think you'd better learn to control that imagina-
tion 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."

"I'd rather go back to the asylum than go to live
with her," said Anne passionately. "She looks ex-
actly 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 talk-
ing 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 eve-
ning 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
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 Blewett
jyoman," said Matthew with unusual vim.

"I don't fancy her style myself," admitted Manila*

62 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

"but it's that or keeping her ourselves, Matthew.
And, since you seem to want her, I suppose I'm will-
ing— 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, espe-
cially a girl, and I dare say I'll make a terrible mess
of it. But 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 inter-
esting 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 be without spoiling her.
I kind of think she's one of the sort you can do any-
thing with if you only get her to love you."

Marilla sniffed, to express her contempt for Mat-
thew's opinions concerning anything feminine, and
walked off to the dairy with the pails.

"I won't tell her to-night 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 MAKES UP HER MIND 63

Marilla Cuthbert, you're fairly in for it Did you
ever suppose you'd see the day when you'd be adopt-
ing 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 VII

ANNE SAYS HER PRAYERS

WHEN Marilla took Anne up to bed that night
she said stiffly:

"Now, Anne, I noticed last night that you threw
your clothes all about the floor when you took them
off. That is a very untidy habit, and I can't allow
it at all. As soon as you take off any article of
clothing fold it neatly 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 to-night. 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 tilings."

"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.

"Why, Anne, 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?"

64

ANNE SAYS HER PRAYERS 65

" 'God is a spirit, infinite, eternal and unchange-
able, 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 good-
ness! You're not quite a heathen. Where did you
learn that?"

"Oh, 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 anyhow 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

66 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

"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 interest-
ing, now that I come to think of it."

"You must kneel down," said Marilla in embar-
rassment.

Anne knelt at Manila's knee and looked up
gravely.

"Why must people kneel down to pray? If I
really wanted to pray I'll 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 the fitness of
things; and it suddenly occurred to her that that
simple little prayer, sacred to a 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,"

ANNE SAYS HER PRAYERS 67

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 Manila's lap. "Gracious heavenly Father
— that's the way the ministers say it in church, so
I suppose it's all right in a 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 Bonny 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; and please let
me be good-looking when I grow up. I remain,
"Yours respectfully,

"ANNE SHIRLEY.

"There, did I do it 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

68 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

'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 say good night to-night with a clear con-
science," 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 to-night? I'll
send to the manse to-morrow and borrow the Peep
of 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 VIII
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 fait into day-dreams 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 ex-
pression 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 dread-
ful feeling. Please tell me."

"You haven't scalded the dish-cloth in clean hot

69

70 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

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 dish-cloth. Then
she returned to Marilla and fastened imploring eyes
on 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 de-
cided 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 bewilder-
ment "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 Way and the cherry
blossoms — but this! Oh, it's something more than
glad. I'm so happy. I'll try to be so good. It will
be up-hill work, I expect, for Mrs. Thomas often
told me I was desperately wicked. However, I'll do
my very best. But 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 vaca-
tion so it isn't worth while for you to start before
it opens again in September."

"What am I to call you?" asked Anne. "Shall
I always say Miss Cuthbert? Can I call you Aunt
Marilla?"

ANNE'S BRINGING-UP IS BEGUN 71

"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 to say just Ma-
rilla," 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 Manila 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."

"Oh!" Anne 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 re-
minds me. Go into the sitting-room, Anne — 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

72 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

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 apol-
ogetically, ''but then, you see, I'd 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 ever 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 ten
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 hands
clasped behind her, her face uplifted, and her eyes
astar with dreams. The white and green light
strained through apple-trees and clustering vines out-
side fell over the rapt little figure with a half-un-
earthly radiance.

"Anne, whatever are you thinking of?" demanded
Marilla sharply.

ANNE'S BRINGING-UE IS BEGUN; (73

'Anne came back to earth with a start.

"That," 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 < n. 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. !A11 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 irrever-
ent."

Anne's eyes marvelled.

"Why, I felt just as reverent as could be. I'm
sure I didn't mean to be irreverent.'*

gg ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

"Well, 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"

Anne set the card up against the jugful 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 beau-
tiful. I've heard it before — I heard the superin-
tendent 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 disagree-
able duty. This 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. Oh, I'm so glad you thought of
making me learn this, Miss — Marilla."

"Well, learn it and hold your tongue," said Ma-
rilla 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?*

ANNE'S BRINGING-UP IS BEGUN 75

"A — a what kind of a 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 per-
haps 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
Carmody 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

76 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

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 pre-
serves 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 Mau-
rice lived, instead of into Mrs. Thomas' shelves of
preserves and 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 for ever 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 good-bye 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 imag-
ined that it was a little girl called Violetta and we

ANNE'S BRINGING-UP IS BEGUN 77!

were great friends and 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 good-bye to Violetta, and oh, her good-bye
came back to me in such sad, sad tones. I had
become so attached to her that 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 Ma-
rilla drily. "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
Maurices and your Violettas or she'll think you tell
stories."

"Oh, I won't. I couldn't talk of them to every-
body— 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 flow-
ers."

"Yesterday you wanted to be a sea-gull," 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. So go up to
your room and learn it."

78 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

"Oh, 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 com-
pany?" 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 irre-
sistible. What do you do when you meet with an
irresistible temptation?"

"Anne, did you hear me tell you to go to your
room ?"

Anne sighed, 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 up-stairs. 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

ANNE'S BRINGING-UP IS BEGUN 79

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 — I can't make that seem real."

She danced up to the little looking-glass and peered
into it Her pointed freckled face and solemn gray
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 Cor-
delia. 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 gray 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 a little bookcase girl's or a
little echo girl's. I must be careful to remember them
and send them a kiss every day."

Anne blew a couple of airy kisses from her finger-
tips past the cherry blossoms and then, with her chin
in her hands, drifted luxuriously out on a sea of day-
dreams.

CHAPTER IX

MRS. RACHEL LYNDE IS PROPERLY HORRIFIED

ANNE had been a fortnight at Green Gables before
Mrs. Lynde arrived to inspect her. Mrs. Rachel, to
do her justice, was not to blame for this. A severe
and unseasonable attack of grippe 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 peo-
ple who were; but grippe, 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's and Manila's orphan, con-
cerning whom all sorts of stories and suppositions had
gone abroad in Avonlea.

Anne had made good use of every waking mo-
ment 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 deli-
cious vagaries of brook and bridge, fir coppice and
wild cherry arch, corners thick with fern, and branch-
ing byways of maple and mountain ash.

80

MRS. RACHEL LYNDE IS HORRIFIED 81

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 deli-
cate "June- bells," those shyest and sweetest of wood-
land blooms, and a few pale, aerial starflowers, like
the spirits of last year's blossoms. Gossamers glim-
mered 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 com-
plained, to be sure ; he listened to it all with a word-
less smile of enjoyment on his face; Marilla
permitted the "chatter" until she found herself be-
coming 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 grippe must bring its compen*

82 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

sations. 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 your-
self," 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 Manila'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 spark-
ling with the delight of her orchard rovings; but,
abashed at finding herself in the unexpected presence

MRS. RACHEL LYNDE IS HORRIFIED 83

of a stranger, she halted confusedly inside the door.
She certainly was an odd-looking little creature in
the short tight wincey dress she had worn from the
asylum, below which her thin legs seemed ungrace-
fully 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 Lynde's em-
phatic comment. Mrs. Rachel was one of those de~
light ful and popular people who pride themselves on
speaking their mind without fear or favour. "She's
terribly skinny and homely, Marilla, Come here,
child, and let me have a look at you. Lawful heart*
did any one 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, stamp-
ing her foot on the floor. "I hate you — I hate
you — I hate you — " a louder stamp with each as-
sertion of hatred. "How dare you call me skinny
and ugly? How dare you say I'm freckled and red-
headed? You are a rude, impolite, unfeeling
woman !"

"Anne !" exclaimed Marilla in consternation.

But Anne continued to face Mrs. Rachel undaunt-
edly, head up, eyes blazing, hands clenched, passion-

84. ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

ate indignation exhaling from her like an atmos-
phere.

"How aare 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
hadn'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' intoxi-
cated husband. And I'll never forgive you for it,
never, never!"

Stamp ! Stamp !

"Did anybody ever 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 twitted her about her looks,
Rachel."

MRS. RACHEL LYNDE IS HORRIFIED 85

"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, Ra-
chel."

Marilla could not help tacking on that last sen-
tence, 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 would
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."

86 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

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 up-stairs she pondered uneasily as to
what she ought to do. She felt no little dismay over
the scene that had just been enacted. How unfor-
tunate that Anne should have displayed such temper
before Mrs. Rachel Lynde, of all people! Then Ma-
rilla 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. And 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 realization 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 ungently.

No answer.

"Anne," 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, Anne!
Aren't you ashamed of yourself?"

MRS. RACHEL LYNDE IS HORRIFIED 87

"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. Lynde, 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. Lynde said you were red-haired and homely.
You say it yourself often enough."

"Oh, 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,
but I couldn't 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. Lynde 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 Ma-
rilla. 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.

88 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

"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. Lynde to forgive me."

"We're not in the habit of shutting people up in
dark, damp dungeons," said Marilla drily, "especially
as they're rather scarce in Avonlea. But apologize
to Mrs. Lynde you must and shall and you'll stay
here in your room until you can tell me you're will-
ing to do it."

"I shall have to stay here for ever then," said
'Anne mournfully, "because 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 sat-
isfaction. 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 work-
ing order by the morning," said Manila, rising to

MRS. RACHEL LYNDE IS HORRIFIED 89

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, Manila descended to the kitchen,
grievously troubled in mind and vex^d in soul. She
was as angry with herself as with Anne, because,
whenever she recalled Mrs. Rachel's dumfounded
countenance her lips twitched with amusement and
she felt a most reprehensible desire to laugh.

ANNES 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 Lynde 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, Recol-
lect she hasn't ever had any one 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 indig-
nantly. "She'll have her meals regular, and I'll
carry them up to her myself. But she'll stay up there

90

ANNE'S APOLOGY 91

until she's willing to apologize to Mrs. Lynde, 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 notice-
ably 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 up-
stairs. As a general thing Matthew gravitated be-
tween the kitchen and the little bedroom off the hall
where he slept; once in a while he ventured uncom-
fortably into the parlour or sitting-room when the
minister came to tea. But he had never been up-
stairs 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 win-
dow, 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.

"Anne," he whispered, as if afraid of being over-
heard, "how are you making it> Anne?"

Anne smiled wanly.

92 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

"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 Manila 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 Ma-
rilla's a dreadful determined woman — dreadful deter-
mined, Anne. Do it right off, I say, and have it
over."

"Do you mean apologize to Mrs. Lynde?"

"Yes — apologize — that's the very word," said Mat-
thew 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.
But this morning it was all over. I wasn't in a tem-
per any more — 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 for ever rather than do that.
But still — I'd do anything for you — if you really want
me to—"

ANNE'S APOLOGY 93

"Well now, of course I do. It's terrible lonesome
down-stairs without you. Just go and smooth it
over — that's a good girl."

"Very well," said Anne resignedly. "I'll tell Ma-
rilla as soon as she comes in that 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 call-
ing, "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. Lynde so."

"Very well." Manila'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
half-way 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

94 ANNE OF. GREEN GABLES

beheld the change disapprovingly. This was no
meek penitent such as it behooved her to take into
the presence of the offended Mrs. Lynde.

"What are you thinking of, Anne?" she asked
sharply.

"I'm imagining out what I must say to Mrs.
Lynde," answered Anne dreamily.

This was satisfactory — or should have been so.
But Mar ilia 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

Rapt and radiant Anne continued until they were
in the very presence of Mrs. Lynde, 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 dread-
fully wicked and ungrateful girl, and I deserve to
be punished and cast out by respectable people for
ever. It was very wicked of me to fly into a temper
because you told me the 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

ANNE'S APOLOGY 95

you was true, too, but I shouldn't have said it Oh,
Mrs. Lynde, please, please, forgive me. If you re-
fuse it will be a lifelong sorrow to me. You wouldn't
like to inflict 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 Manila and Mrs.
Lynde recognized its unmistakable ring. But the
former understood in dismay that Anne was actually
enjoying her valley of humiliation — was revelling
in the thoroughness of her abasement. Where was
the wholesome punishment upon which she, Marilla,
had plumed herself? Anne had turned it into a spe-
cies 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

96 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

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
would 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 June lilies over in the corner
if you like."

As the door closed behind Anne Mrs. Lynde 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 cer-
tainly is an odd child, but there is something kind
of taking about her after all. I don't feel so sur-
prised at you and Matthew keeping her as I did —
nor so sorry for you, either. She may turn out all
right Of course, she has a queer way of express-
ing herself — a little too — well, too kind of forcible,
you know; but she'll likely get over that now
that she's come to live among civilized folks. And
then, her temper's pretty quick, I guess; but there's
one comfort, a child that has a quick temper, just

ANNE'S APOLOGY 97

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 apologized 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, all right enough," was
Manila's comment. Marilla was dismayed at find-
ing 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 twit
me about my looks," said Anne with a sigh. "I don't
get cross about other things ; but I'm so tired of being
twitted about my hair and it just makes me boil right
over. Do you suppose my hair will really be a hand-
some 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."

"Plow 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

98 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

when I took 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 narcissi. "Oh, aren't these flowers sweet! It
was lovely of Mrs. Lynde to give them to me. I have
no hard feelings against Mrs. Lynde now. It gives
you a lovely, comfortable feeling to apologize and be
forgiven, doesn't it ? Aren't the stars bright to-night ?
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, thor-
oughly 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 Ma-
rilla's heart at touch of that thin little hand in her
own — a throb of the maternity she had missed,

ANNE'S APOLOGY 99

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 tree-tops. 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. Lynde'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. Oh, there's so much scope for
imagination in a wind! So I'll not talk any more
just now, Marilla."

"Thanks be to goodness for that/7 breathed Marilla
in devout relief.

CHAPTER XI
ANNE'S IMPRESSIONS OF SUNDAY-SCHOOL

"WELL, how do you like them?" said Manila.

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 pre-
ceeding summer because it looked so serviceable ; one
was of black-and-white checked 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 fulled 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. "Oh, 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 ?"

"They're — they're not — pretty, said Anne re-
luctantly.

"Pretty!" Marilla sniffed. "I didn't trouble my

100

IMPRESSIONS OF SUNDAY-SCHOOL 101

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, service-
able dresses, without any frills or furbelows 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 wincey things you've been wearing."

"Oh, I am grateful," protested Anne. "But I'd
be ever so much gratefuller 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,
Manila, 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! Well, 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
to-morrow," 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

102 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

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, fortu-
nately 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 pre-
vented 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 prop-
erly. Stay to preaching afterwards and ask Mrs.
Lynde to show you our pew. Here's a cent for col-
lection. 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 irreproachably, 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 emphasize 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
half-way 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

IMPRESSIONS OF SUNDAY-SCHOOL 103

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 reached Mrs. Lynde'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 Irss 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.
Lynde said she had an awful temper; Jerry Buote,
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 exer-
cises were over and Anne found herself in Miss
Rogerson's class.

Miss Rogerson was a middle-aged lady who had
taught a Sunday-school class for twenty 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

104 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

had puffed sleeves. Anne felt that life was really not
worth living without puffed sleeves.

".Well, how did you like Sunday-school?" Ma-
rilla 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 Shirley!" said Marilla rebukingly.

[Anne sat down on the rocker with a long sigh, kissed
one of Bonny's leaves, and waved her hand to a blos-
soming 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."

"But 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 to make it worth while. I said
a little prayer myself, though. There was a long
row of white birches hanging over the lake and the

IMPRESSIONS OF SUNDAY-SCHOOL 105

sunshine fell down through them, 'way, 'way down,
deep into the water. Oh, Marilla, it was like a beau-
tiful 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 class-room 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 at-
tending to the lesson. I hope you knew it."

"Oh, yes; and I answered a lot of questions.
Miss Rogerson asked ever so many. I don't think
it was fair of 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 nineteenth
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.

106 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

" '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 practise it all the
week. After Sunday-school I asked Miss Rogerson
— because Mrs. Lynde 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 minis-
ter 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, tin-
uttered, critical thoughts had suddenly taken visible
and accusing shape and form in the person of this
outspoken morsel of neglected humanity.

CHAPTER XII

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. Lynde'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 was 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

107

108 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

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."

"Oh, 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 any more. 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

A SOLEMN VOW AND PROMISE 109

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.
Lynde 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. 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 firry hill grove. Mrs. Barry
came to the kitchen door in answer to Manila'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.

110 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

Mrs. Barry, not hearing or not comprehending,
merely shook hands and said kindly:

"How are you?"

"I am well in body although considerably rumpled
up in spirit, thank you, ma'am," said Anne gravely.
Then aside to Manila 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 one another over a clump of gorgeous tiger lilies.

The Barry garden was a bowery 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 flour-
ished flowers that loved the shade. Prim, right-angled
paths, neatly bordered with clam-shells, 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 southernwood 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 muslr-flowers ; a gar-
den 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 —
oh, do you think you can like me a little — enough to
be my bosom friend?"

Diana laughed. 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 for ever 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 doubt-
fully.

112 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

"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 Manila'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
good-will to-night Diana and I are going to build a
playhouse in Mr. William Bell's birch grove to-mor-
row. Can I have those broken pieces of china that are
out in the wood-shed ? Diana's birthday is in February
and mine is in March. Don't you think that is a very

A SOLEMN yOW AND PROMISE 113

strange coincidence? Diana is going to lend me a
book to read. She says it's perfectly splendid and
tremenjusly 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 some day to gather
shells. We have agreed to call the spring down by
the log bridge the Dryad's Bubble. Isn't that a per-
fectly elegant name? I read a story once about a
spring called that. A dryad is a sort of 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 pro-
duced 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.

ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

"Humph," 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
them all at once now."

"Oh, no, indeed, I won't," said Anne eagerly. "I'll
just eat one to-night, 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, Mat-
thew Cuthberti"

CHAPTER XIII

THE DELIGHTS OF ANTICIPATION

"IT'S time Anne was in to do her sewing," said
Manila, 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'n I gave her leave to; and
now she's perched out there on the woodpile talking
to Matthew, nineteen to the dozen, when she knows
perfectly well that 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?"

116 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

"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 sympa-
thetic 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 every-
body 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 prey any longer. I'll bake you a
basket"

"Oh, you dear good Marilla. Oh, you are so kind
to me. Oh, I'm so much obliged to you."

Getting through with her "ohs" Anne cast herself

THE DELIGHTS OF ANTICIPATION 117

into Manila's arms and rapturously kissed her sallow
cheek. It was the first time in her whole life that
childish lips had voluntarily touched Manila's face.
lAgain that sudden sensation of startling sweetness
thrilled her. She was secretly vastly pleased at Anne's
impulsive caress, which was probably the reason tsrhy
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
over all creation. Now, get out your patchwork and
have your square done before tea-time."

"I do not. like patchwork," said Anne dolefully, hunt-
Ing out her workbasket 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. You know that little piece of land across the
brook that runs up between our farm and Mr. Barry's.

118 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

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 play-
house there. We call it Idlewild. Isn't that a poet-
ical 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 We have got our house fixed up
elegantly. You must 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
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 hang-
ing lamp they once had. But it's nicer 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
she went through great tribulations. She could faint
as easy as anything. I'd love to be able to faint,

THE DELIGHTS OF ANTICIPATION 119

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 Wednes-
day. I don't feel that I could endure the disappoint-
ment if anything happened 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 be-
yond 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

120 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

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."

"You set your heart too much on things, Anne,"
said Marilla with a sigh. "I'm afraid 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 mayn't get
the things themselves; but nothing can prevent you
from having the fun of looking forward to them. Mrs.
Lynde 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 Manila's most treasured possession. A sea- far-
ing 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 realize how fine the ame-
thysts actually were ; but she thought them very beauti-
ful and was always pleasantly conscious of their violet

THE DELIGHTS OF ANTICIPATION 121

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. / 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 XIV

ANNE'S CONFESSION

ON the Monday evening before the picnic Manila
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
pincushion when I came home from church yesterday
evening, but I can't find it anywhere."

"I — 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.

"Y-e-e-s," admitted Anne, "I 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?"

"Oh, I 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 its being wrong to go in and try on

122

ANNE'S CONFESSION 123

the brooch ; but I see now that it was and 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 Manila. "That brooch
isn't anywhere on the bureau. You've taken it out or
something, Anne."

"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 tray.
But I'm perfectly certain I put it back."

"I'll go and have another look," said Marilla, de-
termining 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
Manila'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."

Anne's "so there" was only intended to emphasize
her assertion, but Marilla took it as a display of de-
fiance.

"I believe you are telling me a falsehood, Anne,"
she said sharply. "I know you are. There now, don't

124 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

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 eve-
ning 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 to-night. 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 untruth fulness — 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 mu«h."

Marilla went to her room at intervals all through
the evening and searched for the brooch, without find-
ing it. A bed-time visit to the east gable produced no

ANNE'S CONFESSION 125

result. Anne persisted in denying that she knew any-
thing about the brooch but Manila 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 Manila'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, 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, re-
member. You warned me off yourself."

Marilla felt deserted by everyone. She could not
even go to Mrs. Lynde 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

126 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

to confess. She persisted in asserting that she had not
taken the brooch. The child has evidently been crying
and Manila felt a pang of pity which she sternly re-
pressed. 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 to-morrow, Marilla," cried Anne.
"You won't keep me from going to that, will you?
You'll just let me 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, Anne."

"Oh, 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
winds 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

ANNE'S CONFESSION 127

to her. "Let me hear what you have to say then,
Anne."

"I took the amethyst brooch," said Anne, as if re^
peating 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 ame-
thyst brooch on. Diana and I made necklaces of rose-
berries but what are roseberries compared to ame-
thysts ? 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
purply-sparkling, and sank forevermore beneath the
Lake of Shining Waters. And that's the best I can do
at confessing, Marilla."

Marilla feltthot 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 re-
pentance.

"Anne, this is terrible," she said, trying to speak
calmly. "You are the very wickedest girl I ever heard
of."

128 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

"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, Manila. Won't you please get it
over right off because I'd like to go to the picnic with
nothing on my mind."

"Picnic, indeed ! You'll go to no picnic to-day, 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 Manila's hand. "But you promised me I
might! Oh, Marilla, I must go to the picnic. That
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, Anne. You are not going to
the picnic and that's final. No, not a word."

Anne realized 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, cry-
ing and writhing in an utter abandonment of disap-
pointment 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

ANNE'S CONFESSION 129

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 sob-
bingly. "I couldn't eat anything. My heart is broken.
You'll feel remorse of conscience some day, 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, mourn-
fully 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 amazed at you. I think
I've let her off entirely too easy. And she doesn't ap-
pear to realize 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 realize

130 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

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 re-
iterated Matthew. "And there should be allowances
made, Marilla. You know she's never had any bring-
ing 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 Buote, 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 pond.
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 Mon-
day afternoon I laid it on the bureau for a minute. I
suppose the brooch got caught in it somehow. Well !"

ANNE'S CONFESSION 131

Marilla betook herself to the east gable, brooch in
hand. Anne had cried herself out and was sitting de-
jectedly 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 con-
fessed," 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.

"Oh, 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

132 ANNE OP GREEN GABLES

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, Manila," exclaimed Anne, flying to the wash-
stand. "Five minutes ago I was so miserable I was
wishing I'd never been born and now I wouldn't change
places with an angel !"

That night a thoroughly happy, completely tired out
Anne returned to Green Gables in a state of beautifica-
tion impossible to describe.

"Oh, Marilla, I've had a perfectly scrumptious time.
Scrumptious is a new word I learned to-day. 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
have fallen in and prob'ly been drowned. I wish it
had been me. It would have been such a romantic ex-
perience 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 sublime."

That evening Marilla told the whole story to Mat-
thew 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

ANNE'S CONFESSION 133

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."

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 pooled
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 tantalize 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

13*

A TEMPEST IN THE SCHOOL TEAPOT 135

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 ex-
plained 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
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 ifl. 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 whis-
pering 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 the spring.
Oh, Marilla, can't you just imagine you see them? It
actually takes away my breath. I named it Violet
Vale. Diana says she never saw the beat of me for
hitting on fancy names for places. It's nice to be

136 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

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 flaw-
less as the heart of a diamond. It was fringed in all
its length with sljm young birches, white-stemmed and
lissom boughed ; ferns and starflowers and wild lilies-
of-the-valley and scarlet tufts of pigeon berries 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 wood winds in the trees over-
head. 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 school-children. The schoolhouse was
set back from the road and behind it was a dusky fir
wood and a brook where all the children put their

A TEMPEST IN THE SCHOOL TEAPOT 137

bottles of milk in the morning to keep cool and sweet
until dinner hour.

Manila had seen Anne start off to school on the
first day of September with many secret misgivings.
Anne was such an odd 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 an-
nounced. "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 sixteen and she's studying for the entrance
examination into Queen's Academy at Charlottetown
next year. Tillie Boulter 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 criticize the master. I
guess he can teach you something and it's your busi-
ness 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."

138 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

"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 play-
ing 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 be-
hind 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
to-day. 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 Sloane lent me a
lovely pink card with 'May I see you home?' on it.
I'm to give it back to her to-morrow. And Tillie
Boulter 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 MacPher-
son told her that she heard Prissy Andrews tell Sara
Gillis that I had a very pretty nose. Marilla, that is the
first compliment I 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.

A TEMPEST IN THE SCHOOL TEAPOT 1391

Secretly she thought Anne's nose was a remarkably
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 to-day,"
said Diana. "He's been visiting his cousins over in
New Brunswick all summer and he only came home
Saturday night. He's aw'fly handsome, Anne. And
he teases the girls something terrible. He just tor-
ments our lives out."

Diana's voice indicated that she rather liked having
her life tormented out than not.

"Gilbert Blythe?" said Anne. "Isn't it his name
that's written up on the porch wall with Julia Bell's
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 a boy's. Not, of course," she hastened to add,
"that anybody woukl."

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

140 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

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
any one 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 fourteen. 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 beet and spelled it wrong after all."

"Those Pye girls are cheats all round." said Diana

A TEMPEST IN THE SCHOOL TEAPOT 141

indignantly, as they climbed the fence of the main
road. "Gertie Pye actually went and put her milk
bottle in my place in the brook yesterday. Did 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 a*, 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
sum 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," con-
fided 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

142 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

of the scholars were doing pretty much as they
pleased, eating green apples, whispering, drawing
pictures on their slates, and driving crickets, har-
nessed 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 of the very existence of
Gilbert Blythe, but of every other scholar in Avonlea
school and of 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
school.

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.

"You mean, hateful boy!" she exclaimed passion-
ately. "How dare you !"

A TEMPEST IN THE SCHOOL TEAPOT 143

And then — Thwack! Anne had brought her slate
idown 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
Sloane let his team 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.

"Anne 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.

"Ann Shirley has a very bad temper. Ann Shirley

144 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

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 humilia-
tion. 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 hap-
pened. 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 mas-
ter boarded. When they saw Mr. Phillips emerging
therefrom they ran for the schoolhouse; but the
distance being about three times longer than Mr.
iWright'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.
!Any one 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 beguil-
ing; 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

146 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

the top of a patriarchal old spruce, "Master's com-
ing."

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 her forgotten lily wreath hanging askew
over one ear and giving her a particularly rakish and
dishevelled appearance.

"Anne Shirley, since you seem to be so fond of the
boys' 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.

A TEMPEST IN THE SCHOOL TEAPOT 147

"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 in-
flection which all the children, and Anne especially,
hated. It flicked on the raw. "Obey me at once."

For a moment Anne looked as if she meant to
disobey. Then, realizing 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 "acksually 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 for-
gotten. When Mr. Phillips called the history class
out Anne should have gone; but Anne did not move,

148 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

and Mr. Phillips, who had been writing some verses
"To Priscilla" before he called the class, was think-
ing 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 arose,
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 any more," 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 Gertie
Pye — I know he will because she is sitting alone.
Do come back, Anne."

"I'd do almost anything in the world for you,

A TEMPEST IN THE SCHOOL TEAPOT 149

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
tremenjusly exciting. And we're going to learn a
new song — Jane Andrews is practising 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 to-mor-
row 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 overcom-

150 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

ing it; but she resolved wisely to say nothing more
just then.

"I'll run down and see Rachel about it this eve-
ning," 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 ten 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. Lynde knitting quilts as in-
dustriously 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.
"Tillie Boulter 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

A TEMPEST IN THE SCHOOL TEAPOT 151

course he did right to punish her yesterday for giving
way to temper. But to-day 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 Tillie Boulter was real indignant
She took Anne's part right through and said all the
scholars did, too. Anne seems real popular among
them, somehow. I never thought siie'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 cool 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 right 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
scandalous, that's what, and he neglects the young
fry and puts all his time on those big scholars he's
getting ready for Queen's. 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.

152 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

Manila 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 twi-
lights; 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 whit 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 Manila, coming in from the orchard with
a basket of apples, found Anne sitting alone 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 so, Marilla. I cannot ever live without
her. But I know very well when we grow up that
Diana will get married and go away and leave me.
And oh, what shall I do ? I hate her husband — I just
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 good-bye-e-e — " Here Anne broke down en-
tirely and wept with increasing bitterness.

Marilla turned quickly away to hide her twitching

A TEMPEST IN THE SCHOOL TEAPOT 153

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 XVI

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 fields sunned themselves in after-
maths.

Anne revelled in the world of colour about her.

"Oh, Marilla," she exclaimed one Saturday morn-
ing, coming dancing in with her arms full of gorgeous
boughs, "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 at
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."

154

DIANA IS INVITED TO TEA 155

"Mind you don't drop leaves all over the stairs
then. I'm going to a meeting of the Aid Society at
Carmody 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 him-
self and said we could wait awhile 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, Manila. 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. And — I don't really know if I'm doing right —
it may make you more addle-pated 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-uppish. 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?"

156 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

"No, indeed! The rosebud tea-set! Well, what
next? You know I never use that except for the
minister or the Aids. 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 any-
how— I believe it's beginning to work. And you
can cut some fruit-cake 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 but of course I'll
ask her just as if I didn't know. And then pressing
her to take another piece of fruit-cake 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 cooky to eat with it along in the after-
noon, for I daresay Matthew'll 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 Carmody, 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

DIANA IS INVITED TO TEA 157

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 un-
natural solemnity lasted until after Diana had been
taken to the east gable to lay off her hat and then
had sat for ten minutes in the sitting-room, toes 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. Cuth-
bert is hauling potatoes to the Lily Sands this after-
noon, is he ?" said Diana, who had ridden down to Mr.
Harfhon Andrews' that morning in Matthew's cart.

"Yes. Our potato crop is very good this year. I
hope your father's potato 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. But it isn't good manners to tell your com-
pany what you are going to give them to eat, so 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 a bright red
colour. I love bright red drinks, don't you? They
taste twice as good as any other colour."

158 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

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 Pye 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 Joe 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 Em White's on the porch wall and Em White
was awful mad about it; Sam Boulter 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 Lizzie
Wright didn't speak to Mamie Wilson because Mamie
Wilson's grown-up sister had cut out Lizzie Wright's
grown-up sister with her beau ; 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.

DIANA IS INVITED TO TEA 159

Anne looked on the second shelf of the room pantry
but there was no bottle of raspberry cordial there.
Search revealed it away 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 Manila's raspberry cordial would
prob'ly be much nicer than Mrs. Lynde'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,

160 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

Diana. I thought you were desperately ill with small-
pox 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 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
"pitcherful 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. Ma-
rilla 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

DIANA IS INVITED TO TEA 161

a frost fairy going through the woods turning the
trees red and yellow, whichever they wanted to be,
so I never thought about the pudding sauce again and
Marilla sent me out to pick apples. Well, Mr. and
Mrs. Chester Ross from Spencervale 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
ladylike 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, 'Marilla, 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 morti-
fication. 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.

162 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

"I'm— I'm awful sick," she said, a little thickly.
"I — I — must go right home."

"Oh, 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 must go home," repeated Diana, stupidly but
determinedly.

"Let me get you a lunch anyhow," implored Anne.
"Let me give you a bit of fruit-cake 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. But 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 rasp-
berry 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.

DIANA IS INVITED TO TEA 163

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 down-
ward on the sofa in 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. Lynde again."

No answer from Anne save more t«ars and stormier
sobs ! \

"Anne Shirley, when I ask you a question I want
to be ansv/ered. Sit right up this very minute and
tell me what you are crying about"

Anne sat up, tragedy personified.

"Mrs. Lynde was up to see Mrs. Barry to-day and
Mrs. Barry was in an awful state," she wailed. "She
says that I set Diana drunk Saturday and sent 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 did you give her?"

"Not a thing 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. Oh, it sounds so— so —
like Mrs. Thomas' 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

164 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

bottle which she at once recognized as one contain-
ing some of her three year old homemade currant
wine for which she was celebrated in Avonlea, al-
though certain of the stricter sort, Mrs. Barry among
them, disapproved strongly of it. And at the same
time Manila 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 her-
self.

"Anne, you certainly have a genius for getting
into trouble. You went and gave Diana currant 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 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 yes-
terday. 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 glass fuls of any-
thing," 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 currant wine, although I haven't made any for

DIANA IS INVITED TO TEA 165

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 really 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," sighed Anne. "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 any more,
Anne. It will be all right."

Marilla had changed her mind about its being all
right by the time she got back from Orchard Slope.
Anne 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

166

she rubbed it well in about my currant wine and how
I'd always said it couldn't have the least effect on
anybody. I just told her plainly that currant 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 dis-
turbed, leaving a very much distracted little soul in
the porch behind her. Presently Anne stepped out
bare-headed into the chill autumn dusk; very deter-
minedly and steadily she took her way down through
the sere clover field over 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 over-
come. To do her justice, she really believed Anne had
made Diana drunk out of sheer malice prepense, 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

DIANA IS INVITED TO TEA 167

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 any more. If you do you will cover my
life with a dark cloud of woe."

This speech, which would have softened good Mrs.
Lynde'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."

Anne's lip quivered.

"Won't you let me see Diana just once to say fare-
well?" she implored.

"Diana has gone over to Carmody 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

168 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

Matthew that night, she did laugh heartily over
tAnne'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 XVII

A NEW INTEREST IN LIFE

THE next afternoon Anne, bending over her patch-
work at the kitchen window, happened to glance out
and beheld Diana down by the Dryad's Bubble beckon-
ing 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 has 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 good-
bye to you. She said I was only to stay ten minutes
and she's timing me by the clock."

"Ten minutes isn't very long to say an eternal fare-
well 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 me?"

169

170 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

"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. Oh,
this is wonderful ! It's a ray of light which will for-
ever 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 in parting
to treasure f orevermore ?"

"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 liv-
ing side by side. But my heart will ever be faithful
to thee."

Anne stood and watched Diana out of sight, mourn-
fully 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 part-
ing.

"It is all over," she informed Marilla. "I shall

A NEW INTEREST IN LIFE 171

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 fare-
well 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 Manila
unsympathetically.

The following Monday Anne surprised Marilla by
coming down from her room with her basket of books
on her arm and her lips primmed up into a line of de-
termination.

"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 develop-
ment of the situation. "If you're going back to school
I hope we'll hear no more of breaking slates over

172 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

people's heads and such carryings-on. Behave your-
self 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 Minnie Andrews was a model pupil and there isn't
a spark of imagination or life in her. She is just dull
and poky 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 testa-
ment reading: Ella May 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 Sloane offered to teach her a
perfectly elegant new pattern of knit lace, so nice for
trimming aprons. Katie Boulter gave her a perfume
bottle to keep slate-water in and Julia Bell copied care-
fully on a piece of pale pink paper, scalloped on the
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 rap-
turously to Marilla that night.

A NEW INTEREST IN LIFE 173

The girls were not the only scholars who "appreci-
ated" 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 lucious "strawberry apple." Anne caught it up
already to take a bite, when she remembered that the
only place in Avonlea where strawberry apples grew
was in the old Blythe orchard on the other side of the
Lake of Shining Waters. Anne drop}, ed 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
straightway into the seventh heaven of delight and
caused him to make such fearful errors in his dicta-
tion that Mr. Phillips kept him in after school to re-
write it.

But as,

"The Caesar's pageant shorn of Brutus' 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,"

174 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

she mourned to Marilla that night But the next morn-
ing a note, most fearfully and wonderfully twisted and
folded, and a small parcel, were passed across to Anne.

"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 Pye 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 des-
patched a prompt reply back to the other side of the
school.

"MY OWN DARLING DlANA : —

"Of course I am not cross at you because you have
to obey your mother. Our spirits can comune. I shall
keep your lovely present forever. Minnie Andrews
is a very nice little girl — although she has no imagina-
tion— but after having been Diana's busum friend I
cannot be Minnie's. Please excuse mistakes because
my spelling isn't very good yet, although much im-
prooved.

"Yours until death us do part,
"ANNE or CORDELIA SHIRLEY.

A NEW INTEREST IN LIFE 175

"P. S. I shall sleep with your letter under my
pillow to-night.

"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 en-
tirely 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 hold-
ing 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 school work, because that would
have been to acknowledge his existence which Anne
persistently ignored; but the rivalry was there and
honors 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

176 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

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 a 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 Gil — 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 XVIII

ANNE TO THE RESCUE

ALL things great are wound up with all things
little. At first glance it might not seem that the de-
cision 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 in 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 the Premier's side of politics; hence, on the night
of the meeting nearly all the men and a goodly propor-
tion of the women had gone to town, thirty miles away.
Mrs. Rachel Lynde had gone too. Mrs. Rachel Lynde
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 Premier, she promptly took it,
leaving Anne and Matthew to keep house until her re-
turn the following day.

178 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

Hence, while Marilla and Mrs. Rachel were enjoy-
ing themselves hugely at the mass meeting, Anne and
Matthew had the cheerful kitchen at Green Gables all
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 Farmers' Advocate on the sofa and Anne at the
table studied her lessons with grim determination, de-
spite sundry wistful 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 sympathize with me. You can't sympathize
properly if you've never studied it. It is casting a
cloud over my whole life. I'm such a dunce at it,
Matthew."

"Well now, I dunno," 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."

ANNE TO THE RESCUE 179

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 by 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. Lynde
are enjoying themselves. Mrs. Lynde 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, Mat-
thew?"

"Conservative," said Matthew promptly. To vote
Conservative was a part of Matthew's religion.

"Then I'm Conservative too," said Anne decidedly.
"I'm glad, because Gil — because some of the boys in
school are Grits. I guess Mr. Phillips is a Grit too,
because Prissy Andrews' 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 dunno," said Matthew.

"Did you ever go courting, Matthew ?"

"Well now, no, I dunno's 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.

180 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

"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 beaus 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 Airs.
Lynde says the Gillis girls have gone off like hot cakes.
Mr. Phillips goes up to see Prissy Andrews nearly
every evening. He says it is to help her with her les-
sons, but Miranda Sloane 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 can't
understand very well, Matthew."

"Well now, I dunno as I comprehend them all my-
self," 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, Mat-
thew ? Wouldn't you like some russets ?"

ANNE TO THE RESCUE 181

"Well now, I dunno but what I would," said Mat-
thew, who never ate russets but knew Anne's weakness
for them.

Just as Anne emerged triumphantly from the cellar
with her plateful of russets came the sound of flying
footsteps on the icy board walk 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 nerv-
ously. "Minnie May is awful sick — she's got croup,
Young Mary Joe says — and father and mother are
away to town and there's nobody to go for the doctor.
Minnie May is awful bad and Young Mary Joe 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 hurry-
ing 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,"

182 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

sobbed Diana. "I know that Doctor Blair went to
town and I guess Doctor Spencer would go too, Young
Mary Joe never saw anybody with croup and Mrs.
Lynde is away. Oh, Anne !"

"Don't cry, Di," said Anne cheerily. "I know
exactly what to do for croup. 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 Lovers' Lane and across the crusted
field beyond, for the snow was too deep to go by the
shorter wood way. Anne, although sincerely sorry
for Minnie May, 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 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 mys-
tery and 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 Joe, a buxom, broad-faced French girl
from the Creek, whom Mrs. Barry had engaged to
stay with the children during her absence, was help-

ANNE TO THE RESCUE 183

less 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.

"Minnie May has croup all right; 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've filled it up, and, Mary
Joe, 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.
Now, I'll undress Minnie May 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 May 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 May, and Young Mary Joe, honestly anxious
to do all she could, kept on a roaring fire and heated
more water than would have been needed for a hospital
of croupy babies.

It was three o'clock when Matthew came with the
doctor, for he had been obliged to go all the way to
Spencervale for one. But the pressing need for as-
sistance was past. Minnie May 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,

184 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

and when the last dose went down I said to myself —
not to Diana or Mary Joe, 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 —
This is the last lingering hope and I fear 'tis a vain
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 Cuth-
bert's is as smart as they make 'em. I tell you she
saved that baby's life, for it would have been too late
by the time I got here. 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 out 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 Lovers' 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 — pouf ! 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

ANNE TO THE RESCUE 185

three pairs of twins after all. If she hadn't I mightn't
have known what to do for Minnie May. I'm real
sorry I was ever cross with Mrs. Hammond for having
twins. But, oh, 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 Gil —
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
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 Premier?" exclaimed Anne at
once. "What did he look like, Marilla?"

"Well, 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 Con-
servative. Rachel Lynde, 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

186 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

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 con-
sequent 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 May'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 eve-
ning 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 clean 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
dish-washing at this thrilling moment."

"Yes, yes, run along," said Marilla indulgently.
"Anne Shirley — are you crazy? Come back this in-
stant 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

ANNE TO THE RESCUE 187

streaming. It'll be a mercy if she doesn't catch her
death of cold."

Anne came dancing home in the purple winter twi-
light across the snowy places. Afar in the southwest
was the great shimmering, pearl-like sparkle of an eve-
ning 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 perfectly happy person,
Marilla," she announced. "I'm perfectly happy — yes,
in spite of my red hair. Just at present I have a soul
above red hair. Mrs. Barry kissed 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 any one 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.'

188 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

And that is true, Manila. We're going to ask Mr.
Phillips to let us sit together in school again, and
Gertie Pye can go with Minnie Andrews. We had an
elegant tea. Mrs. Barry had the very best china set
out, Manila, 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 fruit-cake and pound-cake 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. 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 Lovers' Lane. I assure you, Marilla, that I
feel like praying to-night and I'm going to think out
a special brand-new prayer in honour of the occasion."

CHAPTER XIX

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 Manila 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 signalled to me from her window.
iWe have arranged a way to signal with our candles
and cardboard. We set the candle on the window-sill
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 cur-
tains with your signalling nonsense."

"Oh, we're very careful, Marilla. And it's so in-
teresting. Two flashes mean, 'Are you there ?' Three
mean 'yes' and four 'no.' Five mean, 'Come over as

189

190 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

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 ten 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 im-
portant communication within the limits of ten
minutes. But at least she had made good use of them.

"Oh, Marilla, what do you think? You know to-
morrow 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 com-
ing over from Newbridge in a big pung sleigh to go to
the Debating Club concert at the hall to-morrow night.
And they are going to take Diana and me to the con-
cert— 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."

"I'm 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

CATASTROPHE AND CONFESSION 191

birthday in a year. It isn't as if birthdays were com-
mon things, Manila. Prissy Andrews is going to re-
cite 'Curfew Must Not Ring To-night' 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 pathetic songs that are pretty near as
good as hymns. And oh, Marilla, the minister is go-
ing 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 up-stairs, 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

1 ..<» *" • .'•••-<*•..».••. ._

192 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

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 Manila's
amiable rejoinder. "I might have let her spend the
night with Diana, if that was all. But I don't ap-
prove of this concert plan. She'd go there and catch
cold like as not, and have her head filled up with non-
sense 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 Mat-
thew 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 dish-cloth in
hand.

"Oh, Marilla, Marilla, say those blessed words
again."

"I guess once is enough to say them. This is Mat-
thew's doings and I wash my hands of it. If you catch
pneumonia sleeping in a strange bed or coming out of
that hot hall in the middle of the night, don't blame me,

blame Matthew. Anne 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. But
then just think of all the mistakes I don't make, al-
though I might. I'll 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 under-
stood, 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 Debat-
ing 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

194 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

going to take part. Everybody in school over nine
years of age expected to go, except Carrie Sloane,
whose father shared Manila's opinions about small
girls going out to night concerts. Carrie Sloane cried
into her grammar all the afternoon and felt that life
was not worth living.

For Anne the real excitement began with the dis-
missal of school and increased therefrom in crescendo
until it reached to a crash of positive ecstacy in the con-
cert itself. They had a "perfectly elegant tea;" and
then came the delicious occupation of dressing in
Diana's little room up-stairs. 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 tarn and shapeless, tight-
sleeved, home-made gray cloth coat with Diana's
jaunty fur cap and smart little jacket. But she re-
membered in time that she had an imagination and
could use it

Then Diana's cousins, the Murrays from New-
bridge, came ; they all crowded into the big pung sleigh,
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 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.. T.inides 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 look 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 Sockery 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 — look-
ing 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.

196 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

Only one number on the program 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 dissi-
pation, but with the exceeding sweet pleasure of talk-
ing 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
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, some day. They're always want-
ing the big scholars to recite. Gilbert Blythe does often
and he's only two years older than us. Oh, 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

CATASTROPHE AND CONFESSION 197

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 up-stairs.

"Oh, 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, how-
ever she came to be there. Oh, 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 — and I don't be-
lieve 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 she'll scold 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

198 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

to go up-stairs 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. Lynde'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 Carmody. She's feel-
ing 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."

"It 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. Lynde 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 go-
ing right back to-morrow, Sunday and all as it is.
She'd have gone to-day 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 Barry's must feel
cut up. Old Miss Barry is rich and they'd like to keeg

CATASTROPHE AND CONFESSION 199

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 al-
ways 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, but 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. Lynde 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. Lynde's 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 ap-
prehensive glance over her shoulder at the closed sit-
ting-room door. "She was fairly dancing with rage.

200 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

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?" de-
manded 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."

"Well, 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 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

CATASTROPHE AND CONFESSION 201

eyes were brimmed up with a mixture of desperate
courage and shrinking terror.

"Who are you?" demanded Miss Josephine Barry
without ceremony.

"I'm 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?"

"That 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 am sure. Diana is a
very lady-like 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 !"

"But we were only in fun," persisted Anne. "I
think you ought to forgive us, Miss Barry, now that
we've apologized. And anyhow, please forgive Diana
and 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 any one, 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

202 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

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 disturb-
ing. 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 any-
body 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, wait-
ing 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 am 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

CATASTROPHE AND CONFESSION 203

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."

Manila'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 awhile 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."

CHAPTER XX

A GOOD IMAGINATION GONE WRONG

SPRING had come once more to Green Gables —
the beautiful, capricious, reluctant Canadian spring,
lingering along through April and May in a succession
of sweet, fresh, chilly days, with pink sunsets and
miracles of resurrection and growth. The maples in
Lovers' Lane were red-budded and little curly ferns
pushed up around the Dryad's Bubble. Away up in
the barrens, behind Mr. Silas Sloane's place, the May-
flowers blossomed out, pink and white stars of sweet-
ness under their brown leaves. All the school girls and
boys had one golden afternoon gathering them, coming
home in the clear, echoing twilight with arms and
baskets full of flowery spoil.

"I'm so sorry for people who live in lands where
there are no Mayflowers," said Anne. "Diana says
perhaps they have something better, but there couldn't
be anything better than Mayflowers, could there, Ma-
rilla? And Diana says if they don't know what they
are like they don't miss them. But I think that is the
saddest thing of all. I think it would be tragic, Ma-
rilla, not to know what Mayflowers are like and not
to miss them. Do you know what I think Mayflowers
are, Marilla? I think they must be the souls of the
flowers that died last summer and this is their heaven.

204

A GOOD IMAGINATION GONE WRONG 205

But we had a splendid time to-day, Manila. We had
our lunch down in a big mossy hollow by an old well
— such a romantic spot Charlie Sloane dared Arty
Gillis to jump over it, and Arty did because he wouldn't
take a dare. Nobody would in school. It is very
fashionable to dare. Mr. Phillips gave all the May-
flowers he found to Prissy Andrews and I heard
him say 'sweets to the sweet.' He got that out of a
book, I know ; but it shows he has some imagination.
I was offered some Mayflowers too, but I rejected them
with scorn. I can't tell you the person's name because
I have vowed never to let it cross my lips. We made
wreaths of the Mayflowers and put them on our hats ;
and when the time came to go home we marched in
procession down the road, two by two, with our
bouquets and wreaths, singing 'My Home on the Hill.'
Oh, it was so thrilling, Marilla. All Mr. Silas Sloane's
folks rushed out to see us and everybody we met on the
road stopped and stared after us. We made a real
sensation."

"Not much wonder! Such silly doings!" was Ma-
rilla's response.

After the Mayflowers came the violets, and Violet
Vale was empurpled with them. Anne walked through
it on her way to school with reverent steps and wor-
shipping eyes, as if she trod on holy ground.

"Somehow," she told Diana, "when I'm going
through here I don't really care whether Gil —
whether anybody gets ahead of me in class or not.
But when I'm up in school it's all different and I
care as much as ever. There's such a lot of different
Annes in me. I sometimes think that is why I'm such

206 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

a troublesome person. If I was just the one Anne
it would be ever so much more comfortable, but then
it wouldn't be half so interesting."

One June evening, when the orchards were pink-
blossomed again, when the frogs were singing silverly
sweet in the marshes about the head of the Lake of
Shining Waters, and the air was full of the savour of
clover fields and balsamic fir woods, Anne was sitting
by her gable window. She had been studying her
lessons, but it had grown too dark to see the book,
so she had fallen into wide-eyed reverie, looking out
past the boughs of the Snow Queen, once more be-
starred with its tufts of blossom.

In all essential respects the little gable chamber was
unchanged. The walls were as white, the pincushion
as hard, the chairs as stiffly and yellowly upright as
ever. Yet the whole character of the room was
altered. It was full of a new vital, pulsing person-
ality that seemed to pervade it and to be quite inde-
pendent of schoolgirl books and dresses and ribbons,
and even of the cracked blue jug full of apple blos-
soms on the table. It was as if all the dreams,
sleeping and waking, of its vivid occupant had taken
a visible although immaterial form and had tapestried
the bare room with splendid filmy tissues of rainbow
and moonshine. Presently Marilla came briskly in
with some of Anne's freshly ironed school aprons.
She hung them over a chair and sat down with a
short sigh. She had had one of her headaches that
afternoon, and although the pain had gone she felt
weak and "tuckered out," as she expressed it. Anne
looked at her with eyes limpid with sympathy.

A GOOD IMAGINATION GONE WRONG 207

"I do truly wish I could have had the headache
in your place, Marilla. I would have endured it
joyfully for your sake."

"I guess you did your part in attending to the
work and letting me rest," said Marilla. "You seem
to have got on fairly well and made fewer mistakes
than usual. Of course it wasn't exactly necessary to
starch Matthew's handkerchiefs! And most people
when they put a pie in the oven to warm up for din-
ner take it out and eat it when it gets hot instead of
leaving it to be burned to a crisp. But that doesn't
seem to be your way evidently."

Headaches always left Marilla somewhat sarcastic.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," said Anne penitently. "I
never thought about that pie from the moment I put
it in the oven till now, although I felt instinctively
that there was something missing on the dinner table.
I was firmly resolved, when you left me in charge this
morning, not to imagine anything, but keep my
thoughts on facts. I did pretty well until I put the
pie in, and then an irresistible temptation came to me
to imagine I was an enchanted princess shut up in
a lonely tower with a handsome knight riding to my
rescue on a coal-black steed. So that is how I came
to forget the pie. I didn't know I starched the
handkerchiefs. All the time I was ironing I was
trying to think of a name for a new island Diana
and I have discovered up the brook. It's the most
ravishing spot, Marilla. There are two maple-trees
on it and the brook flows right around it. At last
it struck me that it would be splendid to call it Vic-
toria Island because we found it on the Queen's

208 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

birthday. Both Diana and I are very loyal. But I'm
very sorry about that pie and the handkerchiefs. I
wanted to be extra good to-day because it's an anni-
versary. Do you remember what happened this day
last year, Marilla ?"

"No, I can't think of anything special."

"Oh, Marilla, it was the day I came to Green
Gables. I shall never forget it. It was the turning-
point in my life. Of course it wouldn't seem so im-
portant to you. I've been here for a year and I've
been so happy. Of course, I've had my troubles, but
one can live down troubles. Are you sorry you kept
me, Marilla?"

"No, I can't say I'm sorry," said Marilla, who
sometimes wondered how she could have lived before
Anne came to Green Gables, "no, not exactly sorry.
If you've finished your lessons, Anne, I want you to
run over and ask Mrs. Barry if she'll lend me Diana's
apron pattern."

"Oh— it's— it's too dark," cried Anne.

"Too dark? Why, it's only twilight And good-
ness knows you've gone over often enough after
dark."

"I'll go over early in the morning," said Anne
eagerly. "I'll get up at sunrise and go over, Marilla."

"What has got into your head now, Anne Shirley ?
I want that pattern to cut out your new apron this
evening. Go at once and be smart, too."

"I'll have to go around by the road then," said
Anne, taking up her hat reluctantly.

"Go by the road and waste half an hour! I'd
like to catch you !"

"I can't go through the Haunted Wood, Marilla,"
cried Anne desperately.

Marilla stared.

"The Haunted Wood! Are you crazy? What
under the canopy is the Haunted Wood?"

"The spruce wood over the brook," said Anne in
a whisper.

"Fiddlesticks ! There is no such thing as a haunted
wood anywhere. Who has been telling you such
stuff?"

"Nobody," confessed Anne. "Diana and I just
imagined the wood was haunted. All the places
around here are so — so— commonplace. We just
got this up for our own amusement. We began it in
April. A haunted wood is so very romantic, Marilla.
We chose the spruce grove because it's so gloomy.
Oh, we have imagined the most harrowing things.
There's a white lady walks along the brook just about
this time of the night and wrings her hands and utters
wailing cries. She appears when there is to be a
death in the family. And the ghost of a little
murdered child haunts the corner up by Idlewild; it
creeps up behind you and lays its cold fingers on your
hands — so. Oh, Marilla, it gives me a shudder to
think of it. And there's a headless man stalks up
and down the path and skeletons glower at you be-
tween the boughs. Oh, Marilla, I wouldn't go
through the Haunted Wood after dark now for any-
thing. I'd be sure that white things would reach out
from behind the trees and grab me."

"Did ever anyone hear the like!" ejaculated Marilla,
who had listened in dumb amazement "Anne Shirley,

210 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

do you mean to tell me you believe all that wicked
nonsense of your own imagination?"

"Not believe exactly," faltered Anne. "At least,
I don't believe it in daylight. But after dark, Marilla,
it's different. That is when ghosts walk."

"There are no such things as ghosts, Anne."

"Oh, but there are, Marilla," cried Anne eagerly.
"I know people who have seen them. And they are
respectable people. Charlie Sloane says that his
grandmother saw his grandfather driving home the
cows one night after he'd been buried for a year.
You know Charlie Sloane's grandmother wouldn't
tell a story for anything. She's a very religious
woman. And Mrs. Thomas' father was pursued home
one night by a lamb of fire with its head cut off
hanging by a strip of skin. He said he knew it was
the spirit of his brother and that it was a warning
he would die within nine days. He didn't, but he
died two years after, so you see it was really true.
And Ruby Gillis says — "

"Anne Shirley," interrupted Marilla firmly, "I
never want to hear you talking in this fashion again.
I've had my doubts about that imagination of yours
right along, and if this is going to be the outcome of
it, I won't countenance any such doings. You'll go
right over to Barry's, and you'll go through that
spruce grove, just for a lesson and a warning to you.
And never let me hear a word out of your head about
haunted woods again."

Anne might plead and cry as she liked — and did,
for her terror was very real. Her imagination had
run away with her and she held the spruce grove in.

A GOOD IMAGINATION GONE WRONG

mortal dread after nightfall. But Marilla was inex-
orable. She marched the shrinking ghostseer down
to the spring and ordered her to proceed straightway
over the bridge and into the dusky retreats of wailing
ladies and headless spectres beyond.

"Oh, Marilla, how can you be so cruel?" sobbed
Anne. "What would you feel like if a white thing
did snatch me up and carry me off?"

"I'll risk it," said Marilla unfeelingly. "You know
I always mean what I say. I'll cure you of imagining
ghosts into places. March, now."

Anne marched. That is, she stumbled over the
bridge and went shuddering up the horrible dim path
beyond. Anne never forgot that walk. Bitterly did
she repent the license she had given to her imagina-
tion. The goblins of her fancy lurked in every
shadow about her, reaching out their cold, fleshless
hands to grasp the terrified small girl who had called
them into being. A white strip of birch bark blow-
ing up from the hollow over the brown floor of the
grove made her heart stand still. The long-drawn
wail of two old boughs rubbing against each other
brought out the perspiration in beads on her forehead.
The swoop of bats in the darkness over her was as
the wings of unearthly creatures. When she reached
Mr. William Bell's field she fled across it as if pur-
sued by an army of white things, and arrived at the
Barry kitchen door so out of breath that she could
hardly gasp out her request for the apron pattern.
Diana was away so that she had no excuse to linger.
The dreadful return journey had to be faced. Anne
went back over it with shut eyes, preferring to take

212 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

the risk of dashing her brains out among the boughs
to that of seeing a white thing. When she finally
stumbled over the log bridge she drew one long
shivering breath of relief.

"Well, so nothing caught you?" said Marilla un-
sympathetically.

"Oh, Mar— Marilla," chattered Anne, "I'll b-b-be
cont-t-tented with c-c-commonplace places after this."

CHAPTER XXI

A NEW DEPARTURE IN FLAVOURINGS

"DEAR me, there is nothing but meetings and
partings in this world, as Mrs. Lynde says," remarked
Anne plaintively, putting her slate and books down
on the kitchen table on the last day of June and wiping
her red eyes with a very damp handkerchief. "Wasn't
it fortunate, Marilla, that I took an extra handkerchief
to school to-day ? I had a presentiment that it would
be needed."

"I never thought you were so fond of Mr. Phillips
that you'd require two handkerchiefs to dry your
tears just because he was going away," said Marilla.

"I don't think I was crying because I was really
so very fond of him," reflected Anne. "I just cried
because all the others did. It was Ruby Gillis started
it. Ruby Gillis has always declared she hated Mr,
Phillips, but just as soon as he got up to make his
farewell speech she burst into tears. Then all the
girls began to cry, one after the other. I tried to
hold out, Marilla. I tried to remember the time Mr.
Phillips made me sit with Gil — with a boy ; and the
time he spelled my name without an e on the black-
board; and how he said I was the worst dunce he
ever saw at geometry and laughed at my spelling;
and all the times he had been so horrid and sarcastic ;

213

214 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

but somehow I couldn't, Marilla, and I just had to
cry too. Jane Andrews has been talking for a month
about how glad she'd be when Mr. Phillips went away
and she declared she'd never shed a tear. Well, she
was worse than any of us and had to borrow a
handkerchief from her brother — of course the boys
didn't cry — because she hadn't brought one of »her
own, not expecting to need it Oh, Marilla, it was
heartrending. Mr. Phillips made such a beautiful
farewell speech beginning, 'The time has come for
us to part.' It was very affecting. And he had tears
in his eyes too, Marilla. Oh, I felt dreadfully sorry
and remorseful for all the times I'd talked in school
and drawn pictures of him on my slate and made
fun of him and Prissy. I can tell you I wished I'd
been a model pupil like Minnie Andrews. She hadn't
anything on her conscience. The girls cried all the
way home from school. Carrie Sloane kept saying
every few minutes, 'The time has come for us to
part/ and that would start us off again whenever we
were in any danger of cheering up. I do feel dread-
fully sad, Marilla, But one can't feel quite in the
depths of despair with two months vacation before
them, can they, Marilla? And besides, we met the
new minister and his wife coming from the station.
For all I was feeling so bad about Mr. Phillips
going away I couldn't help taking a little interest in
a new minister, could I? His wife is very pretty.
Not exactly regally lovely, of course — it wouldn't
do, I suppose, for a minister to have a regally lovely
wife, because it might set a bad example. Mrs. Lynde
says the minister's wife over at Newbridge sets a

A DEPARTURE IN FLAVOURINGS 215

very bad example because she dresses so fashionably.
Our new minister's wife was dressed in blue muslin
with lovely puffed sleeves and a hat trimmed with
roses. Jane Andrews said she thought puffed sleeves
were too worldly for a minister's wife, but I didn't
make any such uncharitable remark, Marilla, because
I know what it is to long for puffed sleeves. Besides,
she's only been a minister's wife for a little while, so
one should make allowances, shouldn't they? They
are going to board with Mrs. Lynde until the manse
is ready."

If Marilla, in going down to Mrs. Lynde's that
evening, was actuated by any motive save her avowed
one of returning the quilting- frames she had bor-
rowed the preceding winter, it was an amiable weak-
ness shared by most of the Avonlea people. Many a
thing Mrs. Lynde had lent, sometimes never expect-
ing to see it again, came home that night in charge
of the borrowers thereof. A new minister, and more-
over a minister with a wife, was a lawful object of
curiosity in a quiet little country settlement where
sensations were few and far between.

Old Mr. Bentley, the minister whom Anne had
found lacking in imagination, had been pastor of
Avonlea for eighteen years. He was a widower when
he came, and a widower he remained, despite the fact
that gossip regularly married him to this, that or
the other one, every year of his sojourn. In the
preceding February he had resigned his charge and
departed amid the regrets of his people, most of
whom had the affection born of long intercourse for
their good old minister in spite of his shortcomings

216 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

as an orator. Since then the Avonlea church had
enjoyed a variety of religious dissipation in listening
to the many and various candidates and "supplies"
who came Sunday after Sunday to preach on trial.
These stood or fell by the judgment of the fathers
and mothers in Israel ; but a certain small, red-haired
girl who sat meekly in the corner of the old Cuth-
bert pew also had her opinions about them and dis-
cussed the same in full with Matthew, Marilla always
declining from principle to criticize ministers in any
shape or form.

"I don't think Mr. Smith would have done,
Matthew," was Anne's final summing up. "Mrs.
Lynde says his delivery was so poor, but I think his
worst fault was just like Mr. Bentley's — he had no
imagination. And Mr. Terry had too much; he let
it run away with him just as I did mine in the mat-
ter of the Haunted Wood. Besides, Mrs. Lynde says
his theology wasn't sound. Mr. Gresham was a very
good man and a very religious man, but he told too
many funny stories and made the people laugh in
church ; he was undignified, and you must have some
dignity about a minister, mustn't you, Matthew? I
thought Mr. Marshall was decidedly attractive; but
Mrs. Lynde says he isn't married, or even engaged,
because she made special inquiries about him, and
she says it would never do to have a young unmarried
minister in Avonlea, because he might marry in the
congregation and that would make trouble. Mrs.
Lynde is a very far-seeing woman, isn't she, Mat-
thew? I'm very glad they've called Mr. Allan. I
liked him because his sermon was interesting and he

A DEPARTURE IN FLAVOURINGS 217,

prayed as if he meant it and not just as if he did
it because he was in the habit of it. Mrs. Lynde
says he isn't perfect, but she says she supposes we
couldn't expect a perfect minister for seven hundred
and fifty dollars a year, and anyhow his theology is
sound because she questioned him thoroughly on all
the points of doctrine. And she knows his wife's
people and they are most respectable and the women
are all good housekeepers. Mrs. Lynde says that sound
doctrine in the man and good housekeeping in the
woman make an ideal combination for a minister's
family."

The new minister and his wife were a young,
pleasant-faced couple, still in their honeymoon, and
full of all good and beautiful enthusiasms for their
chosen life-work. Avonlea opened its hearts to them
from the start. Old and young liked the frank,
cheerful young man with his high ideals, and the
bright, gentle little lady who assumed the mistress-
ship of the manse. With Mrs. Allan Anne fell
promptly and whole-heartedly in love. She had dis-
covered another kindred spirit.

"Mrs. Allan is perfectly lovely," she announced one
Sunday afternoon. "She's taken our class and she's
a splendid teacher. She said right away she didn't
think it was fair for the teacher to ask all the ques-
tions, and you know, Marilla, that is exactly what I've
always thought She said we could ask her any
question we liked, and I asked ever so many. I'm
good at asking questions, Marilla."

"I believe you," was Manila's emphatic comment.

"Nobody else asked any except Ruby Gillis, and

218 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

she asked if there was to be a Sunday-school picnic
this summer. I didn't think that was a very proper
question to ask because it hadn't any connection with
the lesson — the lesson was about Daniel in the lions'
den — but Mrs. Allan just smiled and said she thought
there would be. Mrs. Allan has a lovely smile; she
has such exquisite dimples in her cheeks. I wish I
had dimples in my cheeks, Marilla. I'm not half so
skinny as I was when I came here, but I have no
dimples yet If I had perhaps I could influence people
for good. Mrs. Allan said we ought always to try to
influence other people for good. She talked so nice
about everything. I never knew before that religion
was such a cheerful thing. I always thought it was
kind of melancholy, but Mrs. Allan's isn't, and I'd
like to be a Christian if I could be one like her. I
wouldn't want to be one like Mr. Superintendent Bell."

"It's very naughty of you to speak so about Mr.
Bell," said Marilla severely. "Mr. Bell is a real good
man."

"Oh, of course he's good," agreed Anne, "but he
doesn't seem to get any comfort out of it. If I
could be good I'd dance and sing all day because I
was glad of it. I suppose Mrs. Allan is too old to
dance and sing and of course it wouldn't be dignified
in a minister's wife. But I can just feel she's glad
she's a Christian and that she'd be one even if she
could get to heaven without it"

"I suppose we must have Mr. and Mrs. Allan up
to tea some day soon," said Marilla reflectively.
"They've been most everywhere but here. Let me
see. Next Wednesday would be a good time to have

A DEPARTURE IN FLAVOURINGS 219

them. But don't say a word to Matthew about it,
for if he knew they were coming he'd find some ex-
cuse to be away that day. He'd got so used to Mr.
Bentley he didn't mind him, but he's going to find
it hard to get acquainted with a new minister, and a
new minister's wife will frighten him to death."

"I'll be as secret as the dead," assured Anne. "But
oh, Marilla, will you let me make a cake for the
occasion? I'd love to do something for Mrs. Allan,
and you know I can make a pretty good cake by this
time."

"You can make a layer cake," promised Marilla.

Monday and Tuesday great preparations went on
at Green Gables. Having the minister and his wife
to tea was a serious and important undertaking, and
Marilla was determined not to be eclipsed by any of
the Avonlea housekeepers. Anne was wild with ex-
citement and delight. She talked it all over with
Diana Tuesday night in the twilight, as they sat on
the big red stones by the Dryad's Bubble and made
rainbows in the water with little twigs dipped in fir
balsam

"Everything is ready, Diana, except my cake which
I'm to make in the morning, and the baking-powder
biscuits which Marilla will make just before tea-time.
I assure you, Diana, that Marilla and I have had a
busy two days of it. It's such a responsibility having
a minister's family to tea. I never went through such
an experience before. You should just see our pantry.
It's a sight to behold. We're going to have jellied
chicken and cold tongue. We're to have two kinds
of jelly, red and yellow, and whipped cream and

220 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

lemon pie, and cherry pie, and three kinds of cookies,
and fruit-cake, and Manila's famous yellow plum
preserves that she keeps especially for ministers, and
pound cake and layer cake, and biscuits as aforesaid;
and new bread and old both, in case the minister is
dyspeptic and can't eat new. Mrs. Lynde says minis-
ters mostly are dyspeptic, but I don't think Mr. Allan
has been a minister long enough for it to have had a
bad effect on him. I just grow cold when I think of
my layer cake. Oh, Diana, what if it shouldn't be
good! I dreamed last night that I was chased all
around by a fearful goblin with a big layer cake for a
head."

"It'll be good, all right," assured Diana, who was
a very comfortable sort of friend. "I'm sure that
piece of the one you made that we had for lunch in
Idlewild two weeks ago was perfectly elegant."

"Yes ; but cakes have such a terrible habit of turning
out bad just when you especially want them to be
good," sighed Anne, setting a particularly well-bal-
samed twig afloat. "However, I suppose I shall just
have to trust to Providence and be careful to put in
the flour. Oh, look, Diana, what a lovely rainbow!
Do you suppose the dryad will come out after we go
away and take it for a scarf ?"

"You know there is no such thing as a dryad," said
Diana. Diana's mother had found out about the
Haunted Wood and had been decidedly angry over
it As a result Diana had abstained from any further
imitative flights of imagination and did not think it
prudent to cultivate a spirit of belief even in harmless
dryads.

A DEPARTURE IN FLAVOURINGS 221

"But it's so easy to imagine there is," said Anne.
"Every night, before I go to bed, I look out of my
window and wonder if the dryad is really sitting here,
combing her locks with the spring for a mirror.
Sometimes I look for her footprints in the dew in
the morning. Oh, Diana, don't give up your faith
in the dryad !"

Wednesday morning came. Anne got up at sun-
rise because she was too excited to sleep. She had
caught a severe cold in the head by reason of her
dabbling in the spring on the preceding evening; but
nothing short of absolute pneumonia could have
quenched her interest in culinary matters that morn-
ing. After breakfast she proceeded to make her cake.
When she finally shut the oven door upon it she drew
a long breath.

"I'm sure I haven't forgotten anything this time,
Marilla. But do you think it will rise ? Just suppose
perhaps the baking-powder isn't good? I used it out
of the new can. And Mrs. Lynde says you can never
be sure of getting good baking-powder nowadays when
everything is so adulterated. Mrs. Lynde says the
Government ought to take the matter up, but she says
we'll never see the day when a Tory Government will
do it Marilla, what if that cake doesn't rise?"

"We'll have plenty without it," was Manila's un-
impassioned way of looking at the subject

The cake did rise, however, and came out of the
oven as light and feathery as golden foam. Anne,
flushed with delight, clapped it together with layers
of ruby jelly and, in imagination, saw Mrs. Allan
eating it and possibly asking for another piece !

222 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

"You'll be using the best tea-set, of course, Ma-
rilla," she said. "Can I fix up the table with ferns
and wild roses ?"

"I think that's all nonsense," sniffed Manila. "In
my opinion it's the eatables that matter and not flum-
mery decorations."

"Mrs. Barry had her table decorated," said Anne,
who was not entirely guiltless of the wisdom of the
serpent, "and the minister paid her an elegant com-
pliment He said it was a feast for the eye as well
as the palate."

"Well, do as you like," said Marilla, who was
quite determined not to be surpassed by Mrs. Barry
or anybody else. "Only mind you leave enough room
for the dishes and the food."

Anne laid herself out to decorate in a manner and
after a fashion that should leave Mrs. Barry's no-
where. Having abundance of roses and ferns and a
very artistic taste of her own, she made that tea-table
such a thing of beauty that when the minister and
his wife sat down to it they exclaimed in chorus over
its loveliness.

"It's Anne's doings," said Marilla, grimly just;
and Anne felt that Mrs. Allan's approving smile was
almost too much happiness for this world.

Matthew was there, having been inveigled into the
party only goodness and Anne knew how. He had
been in such a state of shyness and nervousness that
Marilla had given him up in despair, but Anne took
him in hand so successfully that he now sat at the
table in his best clothes and white collar and talked
to the minister not uninterestingly. He never said a

A DEPARTURE IN FLAVOURINGS 223

word to Mrs. Allan, but that perhaps was not to be
expected.

All went merry as a marriage bell until Anne's
layer cake was passed. Mrs. Allan, having already
been helped to a bewildering variety, declined it But
Marilla, seeing the disappointment on Anne's face,
said smilingly:

"Oh, you must take a piece of *his, Mrs. Allan.
Anne made it on purpose for you."

"In that case I must sample it," laughed Mrs. Allan,
helping herself to a plump triangle, as did also the
minister and Marilla.

Mrs. Allan took a mouthful of hers and a most
peculiar expression crossed her face; not a word did
she say, however, but steadily ate away at it. Ma-
rilla saw the expression and hastened to taste the cake.

"Anne Shirley!" she exclaimed, "what on earth
did you put into that cake ?"

"Nothing but what the recipe said, Marilla," cried
Anne with a look of anguish. "Oh, isn't it all
right?"

"All right ! It's simply horrible. Mrs. Allan, don't
try to eat it Anne, taste it yourself. What flavour-
ing did you use ?"

"Vanilla," said Anne, her face scarlet with morti-
fication after tasting the cake. "Only vanilla. Oh,
Marilla, it must have been the baking-powder. I had
my suspicions of that bak — "

'Baking-powder fiddlesticks ! Go and bring me the
bottle of vanilla you used."

Anne fled to the pantry and returned with a small

224 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

bottle partially filled with a brown liquid and labelled
yellowly, "Best Vanilla."

Manila took it, uncorked it, smelled it

"Mercy on us, Anne, you've flavoured that cake
with anodyne liniment. I broke the liniment bottle
last week and poured what was left into an old empty
vanilla bottle. I suppose it's partly my fault — I should
have warned you — but for pity's sake why couldn't
you have smelled it ?"

Anne dissolved into tears under this double dis-
grace.

"I couldn't — I had such a cold!" and with this
she fairly fled to the gable chamber, where she cast
herself on the bed and wept as one who refuses to
be comforted.

Presently a light step sounded on the stairs and
somebody entered the room.

"Oh, Marilla," sobbed Anne without looking up,
"I'm disgraced for ever. I shall never be able to live
this down. It will get out — things always do get
out in Avonlea. Diana will ask me how my cake
turned out and I shall have to tell her the truth. I
shall always be pointed at as the girl who flavoured
a cake with anodyne liniment Gil — the boys in school
will never get over laughing at it. Oh, Marilla, if
you have a spark of Christian pity don't tell me that
I must go down and wash the dishes after this. I'll
wash them when the minister and his wife are gone,
but I cannot ever look Mrs. Allan in the face again.
Perhaps she'll think I tried to poison her. Mrs. Lynde
says she knows an orphan girl who tried to poison
her benefactor. But the liniment isn't poisonous. It's

meant to be taken internally — although not in cakes.
Won't you tell Mrs. Allan so, Marilla?"

"Suppose you jump up and tell her so yourself,"
said a merry voice.

Anne flew up, to find Mrs. Allan standing by her
bed, surveying her with laughing eyes.

"My dear little girl, you mustn't cry like this,"
she said, genuinely disturbed by Anne's tragic face.
"Why, it's all just a funny mistake that anybody
might make."

"Oh, no, it takes me to make such a mistake," said
Anne forlornly. "And I wanted to have that cake
so nice for you, Mrs. Allan."

"Yes, I know, dear. And I assure you I appreci-
ate your kindness and thoughtfulness just as much as
if it had turned out all right. Now, you mustn't cry
any more, but come down with me and show me your
flower garden. Miss Cuthbert tells me you have a
little plot all your own. I want to see it, for I'm very
much interested in flowers."

Anne permitted herself to be led down and com-
forted, reflecting that it was really providential that
Mrs. Allan was a kindred spirit. Nothing more was
said about the liniment cake, and when the guests
went away Anne found that she had enjoyed the
evening more than could have been expected, consider-
ing that terrible incident Nevertheless she sighed
deeply.

"Marilla, isn't it nice to think that to-morrow is
a new day with no mistakes in it yet?"

"I'll warrant you'll make plenty in it," said Ma-

226 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

rilla. "I never saw your beat for making mistakes,
Anne."

"Yes, and well I know it," admitted Anne mourn-
fully. "But have you ever noticed one encouraging
thing about me, Manila? I never make the same
mistake twice."

"I don't know as that's much benefit when you're
always making new ones."

"Oh, don't you see, Marilla? There must be a
limit to the mistakes one person can make, and when
I get to the end of them, then I'll be through with
them. That's a very comforting thought."

"Well, you'd better go and give that cake to the
pigs," said Marilla. "It isn't fit for any human to
eat, not even Jerry Buote."

CHAPTER XXII

ANNE IS INVITED OUT TO ^EA

"AND what are your eyes popping out of your
head about now?" asked Marilla, when Anne had
just come in from a run to the post-office. "Have
you discovered another kindred spirit?"

Excitement hung around Anne like a garment,
shone in her eyes, kindled in every feature. She had
come dancing up the lane, like a wind-blown sprite,
through the mellow sunshine and lazy shadows of the
August evening.

"No, Marilla, but oh, what do you think? I am
invited to tea at the manse to-morrow afternoon!
Mrs. Allan left the letter for me at the post-office.
Just look at it, Marilla. 'Miss Anne Shirley, Green
Gables.' That is the first time I was ever called
'Miss/ Such a thrill as it gave me! I shall cherish
it for ever among my choicest treasures."

"Mrs. Allan told me she meant to have all the
members of her Sunday-school class to tea in turn,"
said Marilla, regarding the wonderful event very
coolly. "You needn't get in such a fever over it. Do
learn to take things calmly, child."

For Anne to take things calmly would have been
to change her nature. All "spirit and fire and dew,"

227

228 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

as she was, the pleasures and pains of life came to her
with trebled intensity. Marilla felt this and was
vaguely troubled over it, realizing that the ups and
downs of existence would probably bear hardly on
this impulsive soul and not sufficiently understanding
that the equally great capacity for delight might
more than compensate. Therefore Marilla conceived
it to be her duty to drill Anne into a tranquil uni-
formity of disposition as impossible and alien to her
as to a dancing sunbeam in one of the brook shallows.
She did not make much headway, as she sorrow-
fully admitted to herself. The downfall of some dear
hope or plan plunged Anne into "deeps of affliction."
The fulfillment thereof exalted her to dizzy realms
of delight Marilla had almost begun to despair of
ever fashioning this waif of the world into her model
little girl of demure manners and prim deportment.
Neither would she have believed that she really liked
Anne much better as she was.

Anne went to bed that night speechless with misery
because Matthew had said the wind was round north-
east and he feared it would be a rainy day to-morrow.
The rustle of the poplar leaves about the house wor-
ried her, it sounded so like pattering rain-drops, and
the dull, faraway roar of the gulf, to which she
listened delightedly at other times, loving its strange,
sonorous, haunting rhythm, now seemed like a
prophecy of storm and disaster to a small maiden who
particularly wanted a fine day. Anne thought that
the morning would never come.

But all things have an end, even nights before the
day on which you are invited to take tea at the manse.

ANNE IS INVITED OUT TO TEA 229

The morning, in spite of Matthew's predictions, was
fine and Anne's spirits soared to their highest.

"Oh, Marilla, there is something in me to-day that
makes me just love everybody I see," she exclaimed
as she washed the breakfast dishes. "You don't
know how good I feel! Wouldn't it be nice if it
could last? I believe I could be a model child if I
were just invited out to tea every day. But oh, Ma-
rilla, it's a solemn occasion, too. I feel so anxious.
What if I shouldn't behave properly? You know I
never had tea at a manse before, and I'm not sure
that I know all the rules of etiquette, although I've
been studying the rules given in the Etiquette Depart-
ment of the Family Herald ever since I came here.
I'm so afraid I'll do something silly or forget to do
something I should do. Would it be good manners
to take a second helping of anything if you wanted
to very much ?"

"The trouble with you, Anne, is that you're think-
ing too much about yourself. You should just think
of Mrs. Allan and what would be nicest and most
agreeable for her," said Marilla, hitting for once in
her life on a very sound and pithy piece of advice.
Anne instantly realized this.

"You are right, Marilla. I'll try not to think about
myself at all."

Anne evidently got through her visit without any
serious breach of "etiquette" for she came home
through the twilight, under a great, high-sprung sky
gloried over with trails of saffron and rosy cloud,
in a beatified state of mind and told Marilla all about
it happily, sitting on the big red sandstone slab at the

230 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

kitchen door with her tired curly head in Manila's
gingham lap.

A cool wind was blowing down over the long har-
vest fields from the rims of firry western hills and
whistling through the poplars. One clear star hung
above the orchard and the fireflies were flitting over
in Lovers' Lane, in and out among the ferns and rust-
ling boughs. Anne watched them as she talked and
somehow felt that wind and stars and fireflies were
all tangled up together into something unutterably
sweet and enchanting.

"Oh, Marilla, I've had a most fascinating time.
I feel that I have not lived in vain and I shall always
feel like that even if I should never be invited to tea
at a manse again. When I got there Mrs. Allan met
me at the door. She was dressed in the sweetest dress
of pale pink organdy, with dozens of frills and elbow
sleeves, and she looked just like a seraph. I really
think I'd like to be a minister's wife when I grow up,
Marilla. A minister mightn't mind my red hair be-
cause he wouldn't be thinking of such worldly things.
But then of course one would have to be naturally
good and I'll never be that, so I suppose there's no
use in thinking about it Some people are naturally
good, you know, and others are not. I'm one of the
others. Mrs. Lynde says I'm full of original sin.
No matter how hard I try to be good I can never make
such a success of it as those who are naturally good.
It's a good deal like geometry, I expect But don't you
think the trying so hard ought to count for something ?
Mrs. Allan is one of the naturally good people. I
love her passionately. You know there are some

ANNE IS INVITED OUT TO TEA 231

people, like Matthew and Mrs. Allan, that you can
love right off without any trouble. And there are
others, like Mrs. Lynde, that you have to try very
hard to love. You know you ought to love them be-
cause they know so much and are such active workers
in the church, but you have to keep reminding your-
self of it all the time or else you forget. There
was another little girl at the manse to tea, from the
White Sands Sunday-school. Her name was Lau-
retta Bradley, and she was a very nice little girl.
Not exactly a kindred spirit, you know, but still very
nice. We had an elegant tea, sad I think I kept all
the rules of etiquette pretty well. After tea Mrs.
Allan played and sang and she got Lauretta and me
to sing, too. Mrs. Allan says I have a good voice
and she says I must sing in the Sunday-school choir
after this. You can't think how I was thrilled at the
mere thought. I've longed so to sing in the Sunday-
school choir, as Diana does, but I feared it was an
honour I could never aspire to. Lauretta had to go
home early because there is a big concert in the White
Sands hotel to-night and her sister is to recite at it.
Lauretta says that the Americans at the hotel give a
concert every fortnight in aid of the Charlottetown
hospital, and they ask lots of the White Sands people
to recite. Lauretta said she expected to be asked herself
some day. I just gazed at her in awe. After she had
gone Mrs. Allan and I had a heart to heart talk. I told
her everything — about Mrs. Thomas and the twins and
Katie Maurice and Violetta and coming to Green
Gables and my troubles over geometry. And would you
believe it, Marilla ? Mrs. Allan told me she was a dunce

232 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

at geometry, too. You don't know how that en-
couraged me. Mrs. Lynde came to the manse just be-
fore I left, and what do you think, Marilla? The trus-
tees have hired a new teacher and it's a lady. Her
name is Miss Muriel Stacy. Isn't that a romantic
name? Mrs. Lynde says they've never had a female
teacher in Avonlea before and she thinks it is a dan-
gerous innovation. But I think it will be splendid to
have a lady teacher, and I really don't see how I'm
going to live through the two weeks before school be-
gins, I'm so impatient to see her.'*

CHAPTER XXIII

ANNE COMES TO GRIEF IN AN AFFAIR OF HONOUR

ANNE had to live through more than two weeks,
as it happened. Almost a month having elapsed since
the liniment cake episode, it was high time for her to
get into fresh trouble of some sort, little mistakes,
such as absent-mindedly emptying a pan of skim milk
into a basket of yarn balls in the pantry instead of into
the pigs' bucket, and walking clean over the edge of
the log bridge into the brook while wrapped in imagina-
tive reverie, not really being worth counting.

A week after the tea at the manse Diana Barry gave
a party.

"Small and select," Anne assured Marilla. "Just the
girls in our class."

They had a very good time and nothing untoward
happened until after tea, when they found themselves
in the Barry garden, a little tired of all their games
and ripe for any enticing form of mischief which might
present itself. This presently took the form of "dar-
ing."

, Daring was the fashionable amusement among the
Avonlea small fry just then. It had begun among the
boys, but soon spread to the girls, and all the silly
things that were done in Avonlea that summer because
the doers thereof were "dared" to do them would fill
a book by themselves.

233

234 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

First of all Carrie Sloane dared Ruby Gillis to climb
to a certain point in the huge old willow-tree before
the front door; which Ruby Gillis, albeit in mortal
dread of the fat green caterpillars with which said tree
was infested and with the fear of her mother before
her eyes if she should tear her new muslin dress,
nimbly did, to the discomfiture of the aforesaid Carrie
Sloane.

Then Josie Pye dared Jane Andrews to hop on her
left leg around the garden without stopping once or
putting her right foot to the ground ; which Jane An-
drews gamely tried to do, but gave out at the third
corner and had to confess herself defeated.

Josie's triumph being rather more pronounced than
good taste permitted, Anne Shirley dared her to walk
along the top of the board fence which bounded the
garden to the east Now, to "walk" board fences re-
quires more skill and steadiness of head and heel than
one might suppose who has never tried it. But Josie
Pye, if deficient in some qualities that make for popu-
larity, had at least a natural and inborn gift, duly
cultivated, for walking board fences. Josie walked the
Barry fence with an airy unconcern which seemed to
imply that a little thing like that wasn't worth a "dare."
Reluctant admiration greeted her exploit, for most of
the other girls could appreciate it, having suffered
many things themselves in their efforts to walk fences.
Josie descended from her perch, flushed with victory,
and darted a defiant glance at Anne.

Anne tossed her red braids.

"I don't think it's such a very wonderful thing to
walk a little, low, board fence," she said. "I knew

ANNE COMES TO GRIEF 235

a girl in Marysville who could walk the ridgepole of
a roof."

"I don't believe it," said Josie flatly. "I don't be-
lieve anybody could walk a ridge-pole. You couldn't,
anyhow."

"Couldn't I ?" cried Anne rashly.

"Then I dare you to do it," said Josie defiantly.
"I dare you to climb up there and walk the ridge-pole
of Mr. Barry's kitchen roof."

Anne turned pale, but there was clearly only one
thing to be done. She walked towards the house,
where a ladder was leaning against the kitchen roof.
All the fifth-class girls said, "Oh!" partly in excite-
ment, partly in dismay.

"Don't you do it, Anne," entreated Diana. "You'll
fall off and be killed. Never mind Josie Pye. It isn't
fair to dare anybody to do anything so dangerous."

"I must do it. My honour is at stake," said Anne
solemnly. "I shall walk that ridge-pole, Diana, or
perish in the attempt. If I am killed you are to have
my pearl bead ring."

Anne climbed the ladder amid breathless silence,
gained the ridge-pole, balanced herself uprightly on
that precarious footing, and started to walk along it,
dizzily conscious that she was uncomfortably high up
in the world and that walking ridge-poles was not a
thing in which your imagination helped you out much.
Nevertheless, she managed to take several steps before
the catastrophe came. Then she swayed, lost her bal-
ance, stumbled, staggered and fell, sliding down over
the sun-baked roof and crashing off it through the
tangle of Virginia creeper beneath — all before the dis-

236 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

mayed circle below could give a simultaneous, terrified
shriek.

If Anne had tumbled off the roof on the side up
which she ascended Diana would probably have fallen
heir to the pearl bead ring then and there. Fortunately
she fell on the other side, where the roof extended
down over the porch so nearly to the ground that a
fall therefrom was a much less serious thing. Never-
theless, when Diana and the other girls had rushed
frantically around the house — except Ruby Gillis, who
remained as if rooted to the ground and went into
hysterics — they found Anne lying all white and limp
among the wreck and ruin of the Virginia creeper.

"Anne, are you killed?" shrieked Diana, throwing
herself on her knees beside her friend. "Oh, Anne,
dear Anne, speak just one word to me and tell me if
you're killed."

To the immense relief of all the girls, and especially
of Josie Pye, who, in spite of lack of imagination, had
been seized with horrible visions of a future branded
as the girl who was the cause of Anne Shirley's early
and tragic death, Anne sat dizzily up and answered
uncertainly :

"No, Diana, I am not killed, but I think I am
rendered unconscious."

"Where?" sobbed Carrie Sloane. "Oh, where,
Anne?"

Before Anne could answer Mrs. Barry appeared on
the scene. At sight of her Anne tried to scramble to
her feet, but sank back again with a sharp little cry
of pain.

ANNE COMES TO GRIEF 237

"What's the matter? Where have you hurt your-
self?" demanded Mrs. Barry.

"My ankle," gasped Anne. "Oh, Diana, please find
your father and ask him to take me home. I know
I can never walk there. And I'm sure I couldn't hop
so far on one foot when Jane couldn't even hop around
the garden."

Marilla was out in the orchard picking a panful
of summer apples when she saw Mr. Barry coming
over the log bridge and up the slope, with Mrs. Barry
beside him and a whole procession of little girls trailing
after him. In his arms he carried Anne whose head
lay limply against his shoulder.

At that moment Marilla had a revelation. In the
sudden stab of fear that pierced to her very heart she
realized what Anne had come to mean to her. She
would have admitted that she liked Anne — nay, that
she was very fond of Anne. But now she knew as
she hurried wildly down the slope that Anne was
dearer to her than anything on earth.

"Mr. Barry, what has happened to her ?" she gasped,
more white and shaken than the self-contained, sensible
Marilla had been for many years.

Anne herself answered, lifting her head.

"Don't be very frightened, Marilla. I was walking
the ridge-pole and I fell off. I expect I have sprained
my ankle. But, Marilla, I might have broken my neck.
Let us look on the bright side of things."

"I might have known you'd go and do something
of the sort when I let you go to that party," said Ma-
rilla, sharp and shrewish in her very relief. "Bring

238 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

her in here, Mr. Barry, and lay her on the sofa. Mercy
me, the child has gone and fainted !"

It was quite true. Overcome by the pain of her in-
jury, Anne had one more of her wishes granted to
her. She had fainted dead away.

Matthew, hastily summoned from the harvest field,
was straightway despatched for the doctor, who in
due time came, to discover that the injury was more
serious than they had supposed. Anne's ankle was
broken.

That night, when Marilla went up to the east gable,
where a white-faced girl was lying, a plaintive voice
greeted her from the bed.

"Aren't you very sorry for me, Marilla ?"

"It was your own fault," said Marilla, twitching
down the blind and lighting a lamp.

"And that is just why you should be sorry for me,"
said Anne, "because the thought that it is all my own
fault is what makes it so hard. If I could blame it
on anybody I would feel so much better. But what
would you have done, Marilla, if you had been dared
to walk a ridge-pole ?"

"I'd have stayed on good firm ground and let them
dare away. Such absurdity!" said Marilla.

Anne sighed.

"But you have such strength of mind, Marilla. I
haven't I just felt that I couldn't bear Josie Pye's
scorn. She would have crowed over me all my life.
And I think I have been punished so much that you
needn't be very cross with me, Marilla. It's not a bit
nice to faint, after all. And the doctor hurt me dread-
fully when he was setting my ankle. I won't be able to

ANNE COMES TO GRIEF 239

go around for six or seven weeks and I'll miss the new
lady teacher. She won't be new any more by the time
I'm able to go to school. And Gil — everybody will get
ahead of me in class. Oh, I am an afflicted mortal.
But I'll try to bear it all bravely if only you won't be
cross with me, Marilla."

"There, there, I'm not cross," said Marilla. "You're
an unlucky child, there's no doubt abont that ; but, as
you say, you'll have the suffering of it Here now,
try and eat some supper."

"Isn't it fortunate I've got such an imagination?"
said Anne. "It will help me through splendidly, I ex-
pect. What do people who haven't any imagination do
when they break their bones, do you suppose, Marilla?"

Anne had good reason to bless her imagination many
a time and oft during the tedious seven weeks that
followed. But she was not solely dependent on it.
She had many visitors and not a day passed without
one or more of the schoolgirls dropping in to bring her
flowers and books and tell her all the happenings in
the juvenile world of Avonlea.

"Everybody has been so good and kind, Marilla,"
sighed Anne happily, on the day when she could first
limp across the floor. "It isn't very pleasant to be
laid up ; but there is a bright side to it, Marilla. You
find out how many friends you have. Why, even
Superintendent Bell came to see me, and he's really
a very fine man. Not a kindred spirit, of course; but
still I like him and I'm awfully sorry I ever criticized
his prayers. I believe now he really does mean them,
only he has got into the habit of saying them as if he
didn't. He could get over that if he'd take a little

240 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

trouble. I gave him a good broad hint I told him
how hard I tried to make my own little private prayers
interesting. He told me all about the time he broke
his ankle when he was a boy. It does seem so strange
to think of Superintendent Bell ever being a boy. Even
my imagination has its limits for I can't imagine that.
When I try to imagine him as a boy I see him with
gray whiskers and spectacles, just as he looks in Sun-
day-school, only small. Now, it's so easy to imagine
Mrs. Allan as a little girl. Mrs. Allan has been to see
me fourteen times. Isn't that something to be proud
of, Marilla? When a minister's wife has so many
claims on her time ! She is such a cheerful person to
have visit you, too. She never tells you it's your own
fault and she hopes you'll be a better girl on account
of it. Mrs. Lynde always told me that when she came
to see me ; and she said it in a kind of way that made
me feel she might hope I'd be a better girl, but didn't
really believe I would. Even Josie Pye came to see
me. I received her as politely as I could, because I
think she was sorry she dared me to walk a ridge-pole.
If I had been killed she would have had to carry a
dark burden of remorse all her life. Diana has been
a faithful friend. She's been over every day to cheer
my lonely pillow. But oh, I shall be so glad when I
can go to school for I've heard such exciting things
about the new teacher. The girls all think she is per-
fectly sweet Diana says she has the loveliest fair curly
hair and such fascinating eyes. She dresses beauti-
fully, and her sleeve puffs are bigger than anybody
else's in Avonlea. Every other Friday afternoon she
has recitations and everybody has to say a piece or

ANNE COMES TO GRIEF 241

take part in a dialogue. Oh, it's just glorious to think
of it. Josie Pye says she hates it, but that is just be-
cause Josie has so little imagination. Diana and Ruby
Gillis and Jane Andrews are preparing a dialogue,
called 'A Morning Visit/ for next Friday. And the
Friday afternoons they don't have recitations Miss
Stacy takes them all to the woods for a 'field' day and
they study ferns and 'flowers and birds. And they
have physical culture exercises every morning and eve-
ning. Mrs. Lynde says she never heard of such go-
ings-on and it all comes of having a lady teacher. But
I think it must be splendid and I believe I shall find
that Miss Stacy is a kindred spirit."

"There's one thing plain to be seen, Anne," said
Marilla, "and that is that your fall off the Barry roof
hasnt injured your tongue at alk"'

CHAPTER XXIV

MISS STACY AND HER PUPILS GET UP A CONCERT

IT was October again when Anne was ready to
go back to school — a glorious October, all red and gold,
with mellow mornings when the valleys were rilled
with delicate mists as if the spirit of autumn had
poured them in for the sun to drain — amethyst, pearl,
silver, rose, and smoke-blue. The dews were so heavy
that the fields glistened like cloth of silver and there
were such heaps of rustling leaves in the hollows of
many-stemmed woods to run crisply through. The
Birch Path was a canopy of yellow and the ferns were
sear and brown all along it There was a tang in the
very air that inspired the hearts of small maidens
tripping, unlike snails, swiftly and willingly to school ;
and it was jolly to be back again at the little brown desk
beside Diana, with Ruby Gillis nodding across the aisle
and Carrie Sloane sending up notes and Julia Bell pass-
ing a "chew" of gum down from the back seat. Anne
drew a long breath of happiness as she sharpened her
pencil and arranged her picture cards in her desk. Life
was certainly very interesting.

In the new teacher she found another true and help-
ful friend. Miss Stacy was a bright, sympathetic
young woman with the happy gift of winning and hold-
ing the affections of her pupils and bringing out the

242

A CONCERT 243

best that was in them mentally and morally. Anne
expanded like a flower under this wholesome influence
and carried home to the admiring Matthew and the
critical Marilla glowing accounts of school work and
aims.

"I love Miss Stacy with my whole heart, Marilla.
She is so ladylike and she has such a sweet voice.
When she pronounces my name I feel instinctively that
she's spelling it with an e. We had recitations this
afternoon. I just wish you could have been there to
hear me recite 'Mary, Queen of Scots/ I just put my
whole soul into it. Ruby Gillis told me coming home
that the way I said the line, 'Now for my father's arm,
she said, my woman's heart farewell,' just made her
blood run cold."

"Well now, you might recite it for me some of these
days, out in the barn," suggested Matthew.

"Of course I will," said Anne meditatively, "but I
won't be able to do it so well, I know. It won't be
so exciting as it is when you have a whole school ful
before you hanging breathlessly on your words. I
know I won't be able to make your blood run cold."

"Mrs. Lynde says it made her blood run cold to see
the boys climbing to the very tops of those big trees on
Bell's hill after crow's nests last Friday," said Marilla.
"I wonder at Miss Stacy for encouraging it."

"But we wanted a crow's nest for nature study,"
explained Anne. "That was on our field afternoon.
Field afternoons are splendid, Marilla. And Miss
Stacy explains everything so beautifully. We have to
write compositions on our field afternoons and I write
the best ones."

244 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

"It's very vain of you to say so then. You'd better
let your teacher say it."

"But she did say it, Marilla. And indeed I'm not
vain about it. How can I be, when I'm such a dunce
at geometry? Although I'm really beginning to see
through it a little, too. Miss Stacy makes it so clear.
Still, I'll never be good at it and I assure you it is a
humbling reflection. But I love writing compositions.
Mostly Miss Stacy lets us choose our own subjects;
but next week we are to write a composition on some
remarkable person. It's hard to choose among so many
remarkable people who have lived. Mustn't it be splen-
did to be remarkable and have compositions written
about you after you're dead ? Oh, I would dearly love
to be remarkable. I think when I grow up I'll be a
trained nurse and go with the Red Crosses to the field
of battle as a messenger of mercy. That is, if I don't
go out as a foreign missionary. That would be very
romantic, but one would have to be very good to be
a missionary, and that would be a stumbling-block.
We have physical culture exercises every day, too.
They make you graceful and promote digestion."

"Promote fiddlesticks!" said Marilla, who honestly
thought it was all nonsense.

But all the field afternoons and recitation Fridays
and physical culture contortions paled before a proj-
ect which Miss Stacy brought forward in November.
This was that the scholars of Avonlea school should
get up a concert and hold it in the hall on Christmas
night, for the laudable purpose of helping to pay for
a schoolhouse flag. The pupils one and all taking
graciously to this plan, the preparations for a pro-

A CONCERT 245

gramme were begun at once. And of all the excited
performers-elect none was so excited as Anne Shirley,
who threw herself into the undertaking heart and soul,
hampered as she was by Manila's disapproval. Ma-
rilla thought it all rank foolishness.

"It's just filling your heads up with nonsense and
taking time that ought to be put on your lessons,"
she grumbled. "I don't approve of children's getting
up concerts and racing about to practices. It makes
them vain and forward and fond of gadding."

"But think of the worthy object," pleaded Anne.
"A flag will cultivate a spirit of patriotism, Manila."

"Fudge! There's precious little patriotism in the
thoughts of any of you. All you want is a good time,"

"Well, when you can combine patriotism and fun,
isn't it all right? Of course it's real nice to be get-
ting up a concert We're going to have six choruses
and Diana is to sing a solo. I'm in two dialogues
— 'The Society for the Suppression of Gossip' and
'The Fairy Queen/ The boys are going to have a
dialogue, too. And I'm to have two recitations, Ma-
rilla. I just tremble when I think of it, but it's a nice
thrilly kind of tremble. And we're to have a tableau
at the last — 'Faith, Hope and Charity/ Diana and
Ruby and I are to be in it, all draped in white with
flowing hair. I'm to be Hope, with my hands clasped
— so — and my eyes uplifted. I'm going to practise my
recitations in the garret. Don't be alarmed if you hear
me groaning. I have to groan heartrendingly in one
of them, and it's really hard to get up a good artistic
groan, Marilla. Josie Pye is sulky because she didn't
get the part she wanted in the dialogue. She wanted

246 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

to be the fairy queen. That would have been ridiculous,
for who ever heard of a fairy queen as fat as Josie ?
Fairy queens must be slender. Jane Andrews is to be
the queen and I am to be one of her maids of honour.
Josie says she thinks a red-haired fairy is just as
ridiculous as a fat one, but I do not let myself mind
what Josie says. I'm to have a wreath of white roses
on my hair and Ruby Gillis is going to lend me her
slippers because I haven't any of my own. It's neces-
sary for fairies to have slippers, you know. You
couldn't imagine a fairy wearing boots, could you?
Especially with copper toes ? We are going to decorate
the hall with creeping spruce and fir mottoes with pink
tissue-paper roses in them. And we are all to march
in two by two after the audience is seated, while Emma
White plays a march on the organ. Oh, Marilla, I
know you are not so enthusiastic about it as I am, but
don't you hope your little Anne will distinguish her-
self?"

"All I hope is that you'll behave yourself. I'll be
heartily glad when all this fuss is over and you'll be
able to settle down. You are simply good for nothing
just now with your head stuffed full of dialogues and
groans and tableaus. As for your tongue, it's a marvel
it's not clean worn out."

Anne sighed and betook herself to the back yard,
over which a young new moon was shining through
the leafless poplar boughs from an apple-green west-
ern sky, and where Matthew was splitting wood. Anne
perched herself on a block and talked the concert over
with him, sure of an appreciative and sympathetic
listener in this instance at least,

A CONCERT 247

"Well now, I reckon it's going to be a pretty good
concert. And I expect you'll do your part fine/' he
said, smiling down into her eager, vivacious little face.
Anne smiled back at him. Those two were the best
of friends and Matthew thanked his stars many a time
and oft that he had nothing to do with bringing her
up. That was Manila's exclusive duty; if it had been
his he would have been worried over frequent conflicts
between inclination and said duty. As it was, he was
free to "spoil Anne" — Manila's phrasing — as much as
he liked. But it was not such a bad arrangement after
all; a little "appreciation" sometimes does quite as
much good as all the conscientious "bringing up" in
the world,

CHAPTER XXV

MATTHEW INSISTS ON PUFFED SLEEVES

MATTHEW was having a bad ten minutes of it
He had come into the kitchen, in the twilight of a cold,
gray December evening, and had sat down in the wood-
box corner to take off his heavy boots, unconscious of
the fact that Anne and a bevy of her schoolmates were
having a practice of "The Fairy Queen" in the sitting-
room. Presently they came trooping through the hall
and out into the kitchen, laughing and chatting gaily.
They did not see Matthew, who shrank bashfully back
into the shadows beyond the wood-box with a boot in
one hand and a bootjack in the other, and he watched
them shyly for the aforesaid ten minutes as they put
on caps and jackets and talked about the dialogue and
the concert Anne stood among them, bright-eyed
and animated as they; but Matthew suddenly became
conscious that there was something about her different
from her mates. And what worried Matthew was that
the difference impressed him as being something that
should not exist Anne had a brighter face, and bigger,
starrier eyes, and more delicate features than the
others ; even shy, unobservant Matthew had learned to
take note of these things ; but the difference that dis-
turbed him did not consist in any of these respects.
Then in what did it consist ?

248

PUFFED SLEEVES 249

Matthew was haunted by this question long after
the girls had gone, arm in arm, down the long, hard-
frozen lane and Anne had betaken herself to her books.
He could not refer it to Marilla, who, he felt, would
be quite sure to sniff scornfully and remark that the
only difference she saw between Anne and the other
girls was that they sometimes kept their tongues quiet
while Anne never did. This, Matthew felt, would be
no great help.

He had recourse to his pipe that evening to help him
study it out, much to Manila's disgust. After two
hours of smoking and hard reflection Matthew arrived
at a solution of his problem. Anne was not dressed
like the other girls !

The more Matthew thought about the matter the
more he was convinced that Anne never had been
dressed like the other girls — never since she had come
to Green Gables. Marilla kept her clothed in plain,
dark dresses, all made after the same unvarying pat-
tern. If Matthew knew there was such a thing as
fashion in dress it is as much as he did; but he was
quite sure that Anne's sleeves did not look at all like
the sleeves the other girls wore. He recalled the cluster
of little girls he had seen around her that evening — all
gay in waists of red and blue and pink and white — and
he wondered why Marilla always kept her so plainly
and soberly gowned.

Of course, it must be all right. Marilla knew best
and Marilla was bringing her up. Probably some wise,
inscrutable motive was to be served thereby. But
surely it would do no harm to let the child have one
pretty dress — something like Diana Barry always wore.

260 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

Matthew decided that he would give her one; that
surely could not be objected to as an unwarranted
putting in of his oar. Christmas was only a fortnight
off. A nice new dress would be the very thing for a
present Matthew, with a sigh of satisfaction, put
away his pipe and went to bed, while Manila opened
all the doors and aired the house.

The very next evening Matthew betook himself to
Carmody to buy the dress, determined to get the worst
over and have done with it. It would be, he felt as-
sured, no trifling ordeal. There were some things Mat-
thew could buy and prove himself no mean bargainer;
but he knew he would be at the mercy of shopkeepers
when it came to buying a girl's dress.

After much cogitation Matthew resolved to go to
Samuel Lawson's store instead of William Blair's. To
be sure, the Cuthberts always had gone to William
Blair's; it was almost as much a matter of conscience
with them as to attend the Presbyterian church and
vote Conservative. But William Blair's two daughters
frequently waited on customers there and Matthew
held them in absolute dread. He could contrive to deal
with them when he knew exactly what he wanted and
could point it out ; but in such a matter as this, requir-
ing explanation and consultation, Matthew felt that he
must be sure of a man behind the counter. So he
would go to Lawson's, where Samuel or his son would
wait on him.

Alas ! Matthew did not know that Samuel, in the
recent expansion of his business, had set up a lady
clerk also; she was a niece of his wife's and a very
dashing young person indeed, with a huge, drooping

PUFFED SLEEVES 251

pompadour, big, rolling brown eyes, and a most ex-
tensive and bewildering smile. She was dressed with
extensive smartness and wore several bangle bracelets
that glittered and rattled and tinkled with every move-
ment of her hands. Matthew was covered with con-
fusion at finding her there at all; and those bangles
completely wrecked his wits at one fell swoop.

"What can I do for you this evening, Mr. Cuth-
bert?" Miss Lucilla Harris inquired, briskly and in-
gratiatingly, tapping the counter with both hands.

"Have you any — any — any — well now, say any
garden rakes ?" stammered Matthew.

Miss Harris looked somewhat surprised, as well she
might, to hear a man inquiring for garden rakes in the
middle of December.

"I believe we have one or two left over," she said,
"but they're up-stairs in the lumber-room. I'll go and
see."

During her absence Matthew collected his scattered
senses for another effort.

When Miss Harris returned with the rake and cheer-
fully inquired: "Anything else to-night, Mr. Cuth-
bert?" Matthew took his courage in both hands and
replied : "Well now, since you suggest it, I might as
well — take — that is — look at — buy some — some hay-
seed."

Miss Harris had heard Matthew Cuthbert called
odd. She now concluded that he was entirely crazy.

"We only keep hayseed in the spring," she explained
loftily. "We've none on hand just now."

"Oh, certainly — certainly — just as you say," stam-
mered unhappy Matthew, seizing the rake and making

252 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

for the door. At the threshold he recollected that he
had not paid for it and he turned miserably back.
While Miss Harris was counting out his change he
rallied his powers for a final desperate attempt

"Well now — if it isn't too much trouble — I might as
well — that is — I'd like to look at — at — some sugar."

"White or brown?" queried Miss Harris patiently.

"Oh — well now — brown," said Matthew feebly.

"There's a barrel of it over there," said Miss Harris,
shaking her bangles at it. "It's the only kind we have."

"I'll — I'll take twenty pounds of it," said Matthew,
with beads of perspiration standing on his forehead.

Matthew had driven half-way home before he was
his own man again. It had been a gruesome experi-
ence, but it served him right, he thought, for commit-
ting the heresy of going to a strange store. When he
reached home he hid the rake in the toolhouse, but the
sugar he carried in to Marilla.

"Brown sugar!" exclaimed Marilla. "Whatever
possessed you to get so much ? You know I never use
it except for the hired man's porridge or black fruit-
cake. Jerry's gone and I've made my cake long ago.
It's not good sugar, either — it's coarse and dark — Wil-
liam Blair doesn't usually keep sugar like that"

"I — I thought it might come in handy sometime,"
said Matthew, making good his escape.

When Matthew came to think the matter over he
decided that a woman was required to cope with the
situation. Marilla was out of the question. Matthew
felt sure she would throw cold water on his project
at once. Remained only Mrs. Lynde ; for of no other
woman in Avonlea would Matthew have dared to ask

PUFFED SLEEVES 253

advice. To Mrs. Lynde he went accordingly, and that
good lady promptly took the matter out of the
harassed man's hands.

"Pick out a dress for you to give Anne? To be
sure I will. I'm going to Carmody to-morrow and I'll
attend to it Have you something particular in mind ?
No? Well, I'll just go by my own judgment then.
I believe a nice rich brown would just suit Anne, and
William Blair has some new gloria in that's real pretty.
Perhaps you'd like me to make it up for her, too, see-
ing that if Marilla was to make it Anne would probably
get wind of it before the time and spoil the surprise?
Well, I'll do it. No, it isn't a mite of trouble. I like
sewing. I'll make it to fit my niece, Jenny Gillis, for
she and Anne are as like as two peas as far as figure
goes."

"Well now, I'm much obliged," said Matthew, "and
— and — I dunno — but I'd like — I think they make the
sleeves different nowadays to what they used to be. If
it wouldn't be asking too much I — I'd like them made
in the new way."

"Puffs? Of course. You needn't worry a speck
more about it, Matthew. I'll make it up in the very
latest fashion," said Mrs. Lynde. To herself she added
when Matthew had gone :

"It'll be a real satisfaction to see that poor child
wearing something decent for once. The way Ma-
rilla dresses her is positively ridiculous, that's what,
and I've ached to tell her so plainly a dozen times. I've
held my tongue though, for I can see Marilla doesn't
want advice and she thinks she knows more about
bringing children up than I do for all she's an old maid.

254 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

But that's always the way. Folks that has brought up
children know that there's no hard and fast method
in the world that'll suit every child. But them as
never have think it's all as plain and easy as Rule of
Three — just set your three terms down so fashion, and
the sum'll work out correct. But flesh and blood don't
come under the head of arithmetic and that's where
Marilla Cuthbert makes her mistake. I suppose she's
trying to cultivate a spirit of humility in Anne by
dressing her as she does ; but it's more likely to culti-
vate envy and discontent. I'm sure the child must feel
the difference between her clothes and the other girls'.
But to think of Matthew taking notice of it ! That man
is waking up after being asleep for over sixty years."

Marilla knew all the following fortnight that Mat-
thew had something on his mind, but what it was she
could not guess, until Christmas Eve, when Mrs. Lynde
brought up the new dress. Marilla behaved pretty well
on the whole, although it is very likely she distrusted
Mrs. Lynde's diplomatic explanation that she had made
the dress because Matthew was afraid Anne would
find out about it too soon if Marilla made it

"So this is what Matthew has been looking so mys-
terious over and grinning about to himself for two
weeks, is it?" she said a little stiffly but tolerantly. "I
knew he was up to some foolishness. Well, I must say
I don't think Anne needed any more dresses. I made
her three good, warm, serviceable ones this fall,
and anything more is sheer extravagance. There's
enough material in those sleeves alone to make a waist,
I declare there is. You'll just pamper Anne's vanity,
Matthew, and she's as vain as a peacock now. Well,

PUFFED SLEEVES 265

I hope she'll be satisfied at last, for I know she's been
hankering after those silly sleeves ever since they came
in, although she never said a word after the first. The
puffs have been getting bigger and more ridiculous
right along ; they're as big as balloons now. Next year
anybody who wears them will have to go through a
door sideways."

Christmas morning broke on a beautiful white
world. It had been a very mild December and people
had looked forward to a green Christmas; but just
enough snow fell softly in the night to transfigure
Avonlea. Anne peeped out from her frosted gable
window with delighted eyes. The firs in the Haunted
Wood were all feathery and wonderful; the birches
and wild cherry-trees were outlined in pearl; the
ploughed fields were stretches of snowy dimples ; and
there was a crisp tang in the air that was glorious.
Anne ran down-stairs singing until her voice re-echoed
through Green Gables.

"Merry Christmas, Marilla! Merry Christmas,
Matthew! Isn't it a lovely Christmas? I'm so glad
it's white. Any other kind of Christmas doesn't seem
real, does it ? I don't like green Christmases. They're
not green — they're just nasty faded browns and grays.
What makes people call them green? Why — why —
Matthew, is that for me ? Oh, Matthew !"

Matthew had sheepishly unfolded the dress from
its paper swathings and held it out with a deprecatory
glance at Marilla, who feigned to be contemptuously
filling the teapot, but nevertheless watched the scene
out of the corner of her eye with a rather interested
air.

256 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

Anne took the dress and looked at it in reverent
silence. Oh, how pretty it was — a lovely soft brown
gloria with all the gloss of silk; a skirt with dainty
frills and shirrings; a waist elaborately pintucked in
the most fashionable way, with a little ruffle of filmy
lace at the neck. But the sleeves — they were the crown-
ing glory! Long elbow cuffs, and above them two
beautiful puffs divided by rows of shirring and bows
of brown silk ribbon.

"That's a Christmas present for you, Anne," said
Matthew shyly. "Why — why — Anne, don't you like
it ? Well now — well now."

For Anne's eyes had suddenly filled with tears.

"Like it ! Oh, Matthew !" Anne laid the dress over
a chair and clasped her hands. "Matthew, it's per-
fectly exquisite. Oh, I can never thank you enough.
Look at those sleeves ! Oh, it seems to me this must
be a happy dream."

"Well, well, let us have breakfast," interrupted Ma-
rilla. "I must say, Anne, I don't think you needed the
dress; but since Matthew has got it for you, see that
you take good care of it. There's a hair ribbon Mrs.
Lynde left for you. It's brown, to match the dress.
Come now, sit in."

"I don't see how I'm going to eat breakfast," said
Anne rapturously. "Breakfast seems so commonplace
at such an exciting moment. I'd rather feast my eyes
on that dress. I'm so glad that puffed sleeves are still
fashionable. It did seem to me that I'd never get over
it if they went out before I had a dress with them. I'd
never have felt quite satisfied, you see. It was lovely
of Mrs. Lynde to give me the ribbon, too. I feel that

PUFFED SLEEVES 257

I ought to be a very good girl indeed. It's at times like
this I'm sorry I'm not a model little girl ; and I always
resolve that I will be in future. But somehow it's
hard to carry out your resolutions when irresistible
temptations come. Still, I really will make an extra
effort after this."

When the commonplace breakfast was over Diana
appeared, crossing the white log bridge in the hollow,
a gay little figure in her crimson ulster. Anne flew
down the slope to meet her.

"Merry Christmas, Diana! And oh, it's a wonder-
ful Christmas. I've something splendid to show you.
Matthew has given me the loveliest dress, with such
sleeves. I couldn't even imagine any nicer."

"I've got something more for you," said Diana
breathlessly. "Here — this box. Aunt Josephine sent
us out a big box with ever so many things in it — and
this is for you. I'd have brought it over last night,
but it didn't come until after dark, and I never feel
very comfortable coming through the Haunted Wood
in the dark now."

Anne opened the box and peeped in. First a card
with "For the Anne-girl and Merry Christmas," writ-
ten on it; and then, a pair of the daintiest little kid
slippers, with beaded toes and satin bows and glisten-
ing buckles.

"Oh," said Anne, "Diana, this is too much. I must
be dreaming."

"/ call it providential," said Diana. "You won't
have to borrow Ruby's slippers now, and that's a bless-
ing, for they're two sizes too big for you, and it would
be awful to hear a fairy shuffling. Josie Pye would be

268 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

delighted. Mind you, Rob Wright went home with
Gertie Pye from the practice night before last Did
you ever hear anything equal to that ?"

All the Avonlea scholars were in a fever of excite-
ment that day, for the hall had to be decorated and
a last grand rehearsal held.

The concert came off in the evening and was a pro-
nounced success. The little hall was crowded ; all the
performers did excellently well, but Anne was the
bright particular star of the occasion, as even envy, in
the shape of Josie Pye, dared not deny.

"Oh, hasn't it been a brilliant evening?" sighed
Anne, when it was all over and she and Diana were
walking home together under a dark, starry sky.

"Everything went off very well," said Diana prac-
tically. "I guess we must have made as much as ten
dollars. Mind you, Mr. Allan is going to send an ac-
count of it to the Charlottetown papers."

"Oh, Diana, will we really see our names in print?
It makes me thrill to think of it. Your solo was per-
fectly elegant, Diana. I felt prouder than you did
when it was encored. I just said to myself, 'It is my
dear bosom friend who is so honoured.' '

"Well, your recitations just brought down the house,
Anne. That sad one was simply splendid."

"Oh, I was so nervous, Diana. When Mr. Allan
called out my name I really cannot tell how I ever
got up on that platform. I felt as if a million eyes were
looking at me and through me, and for one dreadful
moment I was sure I couldn't begin at all. Then I
thought of my lovely puffed sleeves and took courage.
I knew that I must live up to those sleeves, Diana. So

PUFFED SLEEVES 250

I started in, and my voice seemed to be coming from
ever so far away. I just felt like a parrot. It's prov-
idential that I practised those recitations so often up
in the garret, or I'd never have been able to get
through. Did I groan all right?"

"Yes, indeed, you groaned lovely," assured Diana,

"I saw old Mrs. Sloane wiping away tears when I
sat down. It was splendid to think I had touched
somebody's heart It's so romantic to take part in a
concert, isn't it? Oh, it's been a very memorable
occasion indeed."

"Wasn't the boys' dialogue fine ?" said Diana. "Gil-
bert Blythe was just splendid. Anne, I do think it's
awful mean the way you treat Gil. Wait till I tell you.
When you ran off the platform after the fairy dialogue
one of your roses fell out of your hair. I saw Gil
pick it up and put it in his breast-pocket. There now.
You're so romantic that I'm sure you ought to be
pleased at that"

"It's nothing to me what that person does," said
Anne loftily. "I simply never waste a thought on him,
Diana."

That night Marilla and Matthew, who had been out
to a concert for the first time in twenty years, sat for
awhile by the kitchen fire after Anne had gone to bed.

"Well now, I guess our Anne did as well as any of
them," said Matthew proudly.

"Yes, she did," admitted Marilla. "She's a bright
child, Matthew. And she looked real nice, too. I've
been kind of opposed to this concert scheme, but I
suppose there's no real harm in it after all. Anyhow,

260 ANNE OF GREEJTGABLES

I was proud of Anne tonight, although I'm not going
to tell her so."

"Well now, I was proud of her and I did tell her so
'fore she went up-stairs," said Matthew. "We must
see what we can do for her some of these days, Ma-
rilla, I guess she'll need something more than Avonlea
school by and by."

"There's time enough to think of that," said Marilla.
"She's only thirteen in March. Though to-night it
struck me she was growing quite a big girl. Mrs.
Lynde made that dress a mite too long, and it makes
Anne look so tall. She's quick to learn and I guess
the best thing we can do for her will be to send her
to Queen's after a spell. But nothing need be said
about that for a year or two yet."

"Well now, it'll do no harm to be thinking it over
off and on," said Matthew. "Things like that are al)
the better for lots of thinking over."

CHAPTER XXVI

THE STORY CLUB IS FORMED

JUNIOR Avonlea found it hard to settle down to
humdrum existence again. To Anne in particular
things seemed fearfully flat, stale, and unprofitable
after the goblet of excitement she had been sipping
for weeks. Could she go back to the former quiet
pleasures of those far-away days before the concert?
At first, as she told Diana, she did not really think she
could.

"I'm positively certain, Diana, that life can never
be quite the same again as it was in those olden days,"
she said mournfully, as if referring to a period of at
least fifty years back. "Perhaps after awhile I'll get
used to it, but I'm afraid concerts spoil people for
every-day life. I suppose that is why Marilla dis-
approves of them. Marilla is such a sensible woman.
It must be a great deal better to be sensible ; but still,
I don't believe I'd really want to be a sensible person,
because they are so unromantic. Mrs. Lynde says
there is no danger of my ever being one, but you
can never tell. I feel just now that I may grow up
to be sensible yet But perhaps that it only because I'm
tired. I simply couldn't sleep last night for ever so
long. I just lay awake and imagined the concert over
and over again. That's one splendid thing about such
affairs — it's so lovely to look back to them."

261

263 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

Eventually, however, Avonlea school slipped back
into its old groove and took up its old interests. To
be sure, the concert left traces. Ruby Gillis and Emma
White, who had quarrelled over a point of precedence
in their platform seats, no longer sat at the same desk,
and a promising friendship of three years was broken
up. Josie Pye and Julia Bell did not "speak" for
three months, because Josie Pye had told Bessie
Wright that Julia Bell's bow when she got up to recite
made her think of a chicken jerking its head, and
Bessie told Julia. None of the Sloanes would have
any dealings with the Bells, because the Bells had de-
clared that the Sloanes had too much to do in the pro-
gramme, and the Sloanes had retorted that the Bells
were not capable of doing the little they had to do
properly. Finally, Charlie Sloane fought Moody
Spurgeon MacPherson, because Moody Spurgeon had
said that Anne Shirley put on airs about her recita-
tions, and Moody Spurgeon was "licked ;" consequently
Moody Spurgeon's sister, Ella May, would not "speak"
to Anne Shirley all the rest of the winter. With the
exception of these trifling frictions, work in Miss
Stacy's little kingdom went on with regularity and
smoothness.

The winter weeks slipped by. It was an unusually
mild winter, with so little snow that Anne and Diana
could go to school nearly every day by way of the
Birch Path. On Anne's birthday they were tripping
lightly down it, keeping eyes and ears alert amid all
their chatter, for Miss Stacy had told them that they
must soon write a composition on "A Winter's Walk
in the Woods," and it behooved them to be observant

THE STORY CLUB IS FORMED 268

"Just think, Diana, I'm thirteen years old today,"
remarked Anne in an awed voice. "I can scarcely
realize that I'm in my teens. When I woke this morn-
ing it seemed to me that everything must be different.
You've been thirteen for a month, so I suppose it
doesn't seem such a novelty to you as it does to me.
It makes life seem so much more interesting. In two
more years I'll be really grown up. It's a great com-
fort to think that I'll be able to use big words then
without being laughed at."

"Ruby Gillis says she means to have a beau as soon
as she's fifteen," said Diana.

"Ruby Gillis thinks of nothing but beaus," said
Anne disdainfully. "She's actually delighted when
any one writes her name up in a take-notice for all
she pretends to be so mad. But I'm afraid that is an
uncharitable speech. Mrs. Allan says we should never
make uncharitable speeches; but they do slip out so
often before you think, don't they? I simply can't
talk about Josie Pye without making an uncharitable
speech, so I never mention her at all. You may have
noticed that I'm trying to be as much like Mrs. Allan
as I possibly can, for I think she's perfect. Mr. Allan
thinks so too. Mrs. Lynde says he just worships the
ground she treads on and she doesn't really think it
right for a minister to set his affections so much on a
mortal being. But then, Diana, even ministers are
human and have their besetting sins just like every-
body else. I had such an interesting talk with Mrs.
Allan about besetting sins last Sunday afternoon.
There are just a few things it's proper to talk about
on Sundays and that is one of them. My besetting sin

264 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

is imagining too much and forgetting my duties. I'm
striving very hard to overcome it and now that I'm
really thirteen perhaps I'll get on better."

"In four more years we'll be able to put our hair
up," said Diana. "Alice Bell is only sixteen and she
is wearing hers up, but I think that's ridiculous. I
shall wait until I'm seventeen.'*

"If I had Alice Bell's crooked nose/' said Anne de-
cidedly, "I wouldn't — but there! I won't say what I
was going to because it was extremely uncharitable.
Besides, I was comparing it with my own nose and
that's vanity. I'm afraid I think too much about my
nose ever since I heard that compliment about it long
ago. It really is a great comfort to me. Oh, Diana,
look, there's a rabbit. That's something to remember
for our woods composition. I really think the woods
are just as lovely in winter as in summer. They're so
white and still, as if they were asleep and dreaming
pretty dreams."

"I won't mind writing that composition when its
time comes," sighed Diana. "I can manage to write
about the woods, but the one we're to hand in Monday
is terrible. The idea of Miss Stacy telling us to write
a story out of our own heads !"

"Why, it's as easy as wink," said Anne.

"It's easy for you because you have an imagina-
tion," retorted Diana, "but what would you do if you
had been born without one ? I suppose you have your
composition all done?"

Anne nodded, trying hard not to look virtuously
complacent and failing miserably.

"I wrote it last Monday evening. It's called The

THE STORY CLUB IS FORMED 265

Jealous Rival; or, in Death Not Divided/ I read it
to Marilla and she said it was stuff and nonsense.
Then I read it to Matthew and he said it was fine.
That is the kind of critic I like. It's a sad, sweet story.
I just cried like a child while I was writing it It's
about two beautiful maidens called Cordelia Mont-
morency and Geraldine Seymour who lived in the same
village and were devotedly attached to each other.
Cordelia was a regal brunette with a coronet of mid-
night hair and duskly flashing eyes. Geraldine was a
queenly blonde with hair like spun gold and velvetly
purple eyes."

"I never saw anybody with purple eyes," said Diana
dubiously.

"Neither did I. I just imagined them. I wanted
something out of the common. Geraldine had an ala-
baster brow, too. I've found out what an alabaster
brow is. That is one of the advantages of being thir-
teen. .You know so much more than you did when you
were only twelve."

"Well, what became of Cordelia and Geraldine?"
asked Diana, who was beginning to feel rather in-
terested in their fate.

"They grew in beauty side by side until they were
sixteen. Then Bertram DeVere came to their native
village and fell in love with the fair Geraldine. He
saved her life when her horse ran away with her in
a carriage, and she fainted in his arms and he carried
her home three miles; because, you understand, the
carriage was all smashed up. I found it rather hard
to imagine the proposal because I had no experience
to go by. I asked Ruby Gillis if she knew anything

266 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

about how men proposed because I thought she'd likely
be an authority on the subject, having so many sisters
married. Ruby told me she was hid in the hall pantry
when Malcolm Andrews proposed to her sister
Susan. She said Malcolm told Susan that his dad had
given him the farm in his own name and then said,
'What do you say, darling pet, if we get hitched this
fall ?' And Susan said, 'Yes — no — I don't know — let
me see,' — and there they were, engaged as quick as
that. But I didn't think that sort of a proposal was a
very romantic one, so in the end I had to imagine it out
as well as I could. I made it very flowery and poetical
and Bertram went on his knees, although Ruby Gillis
says it isn't done nowadays. Geraldine accepted him
in a speech a page long. I can tell you I took a lot
of trouble with that speech. I rewrote it five times and
I look upon it as my masterpiece. Bertram gave her
a diamond ring and a ruby necklace and told her they
would go to Europe for a wedding tour, for he was
immensely wealthy. But then, alas, shadows began to
darken over their path. Cordelia was secretly in love
with Bertram herself and when Geraldine told her
about the engagement she was simply furious, especially
when she saw the necklace and the diamond ring. All
her affection for Geraldine turned to bitter hate and
she vowed that she would never marry Bertram. But
she pretended to be Geraldine's friend the same as
ever. One evening they were standing on the bridge
over a rushing turbulent stream and Cordelia, think-
ing they were alone, pushed Geraldine over the brink
with a wild, mocking, 'Ha, ha, ha.' But Bertram saw
it all and he at once plunged into the current, exclaim-

THE STORY CLUB IS FORMED 267

ing, 'I will save thee, my peerless Geraldine.' But
alas, he had forgotten he couldn't swim, and they were
both drowned, clasped in each other's arms. Their
bodies were washed ashore soon afterwards. They
were buried in the one grave and their funeral was
most imposing, Diana. It's so much more romantic
to end a story up with a funeral than a wedding. As
for Cordelia, she went insane with remorse and was
shut up in a lunatic asylum. I thought that was a
poetical retribution for her crime."

"How perfectly lovely!" sighed Diana, who be-
longed to Matthew's school of critics. "I don't see
how you can make up such thrilling things out of
your own head, Anne. I wish my imagination was as
good as yours."

"It would be if you'd only cultivate it," said Anne
cheeringly. "I've just thought of a plan, Diana. Let
you and I have a story club all our own and write
stories for practice. I'll help you along until you can
do them by yourself. You ought to cultivate your
imagination, you know. Miss Stacy says so. Only
we must take the right way. I told her about the
Haunted Wood, but she said we went the wrong way
about it in that."

This was how the story club came into existence.
It was limited to Diana and Anne at first, but soon it
was extended to include Jane Andrews and Ruby Gillis
and one or two others who felt that their imaginations
needed cultivating. No boys were allowed in it — al-
though Ruby Gillis opined that their admission would
make it more exciting — and each member had to pro-
duce one story a week.

268 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

"It's extremely interesting," Anne told Manila.
"Each girl has to read her story out loud and then
we talk it over. We are going to keep them all sacredly
and have them to read to our descendants. We each
write under a nom-de-plume. Mine is Rosamond
Montmorency. All the girls do pretty well. Ruby
Gillis is rather sentimental. She puts too much love-
making into her stories and you know too much is
worse than too little. Jane never puts any because
she says it makes her feel so silly when she has to read
it out loud. Jane's stories are extremely sensible.
Then Diana puts too many murders into hers. She
says most of the time she doesn't know what to do
with the people so she kills them off to get rid of them.
I mostly always have to tell them what to write about,
but that isn't hard for I've millions of ideas."

"I think this story-writing business is the f oolishest
yet," scoffed Marilla. "You'll get a pack of nonsense
into your heads and waste time that should be put on
your lessons. Reading stories is bad enough but writ-
ing them is worse."

"But we're so careful to put a moral into them all,
Marilla," explained Anne. "I insist upon that All
the good people are rewarded and all the bad ones are
suitably punished. I'm sure that must have a whole-
some effect. The moral is the great thing. Mr. Allan
says so. I read one of my stories to him and Mrs.
Allan and they both agreed that the moral was ex-
cellent Only they laughed in the wrong places. I
like it better when people cry. Jane and Ruby almost
always cry when I come to the pathetic parts. Diana
wrote her Aunt Josephine about our club and her Aunt

THE STORY CLUB IS FORMED

Josephine wrote back that we were to send her some of
our stories. So we copied out four of our very best
and sent them. Miss Josephine Barry wrote back that
she had never read anything so amusing in her life,
That kind of puzzled us because the stories were all
very pathetic and almost everybody died. But I'm
glad Miss Barry liked them. It shows our club is do-
ing some good in the world. Mrs, Allan says that
ought to be our object in everything. I do really try
to make it my object but I forget so often when I'm
having fun. I hope I shall be a little like Mrs. Allan
when I grow up. Do you think there is any prospect
of it, Marilla?"

"I shouldn't say there was a great deal," was Ma-
rilla's encouraging answer. "I'm sure Mrs. Allan was
never such a silly, forgetful little girl as you are."

"No ; but she wasn't always so good as she is now
either," said Anne seriously. "She told me so herself
— that is, she said she was a dreadful mischief when
she was a girl and was always getting into scrapes. I
felt so encouraged when I heard that. Is it very
wicked of me, Marilla, to feel encouraged when I
hear that other people have been bad and mischievous ?
Mrs. Lynde says it is. Mrs. Lynde says she always
feels shocked when she hears of any one ever having
been naughty, no matter how small they were. Mrs.
Lynde says she once heard a minister confess that
when he was a boy he stole a strawberry tart out of
his aunt's pantry and she never had any respect for
that minister again. Now, I wouldn't have felt that
way. I'd have thought that it was real noble of him
to confess it, and I'd have thought what an encourag-

270 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

ing thing it would be for small boys nowadays who do
naughty things and are sorry for them to know that
perhaps they may grow up to be ministers in spite of
it That's how I'd feel, Manila."

"The way I feel at present, Anne," said Marilla,
"is that it's high time you had those dishes washed.
You've taken half an hour longer than you should with
all your chattering. Learn to work first and talk after-
wards."

CHAPTER XXVII

VANITY AND VEXATION OF SPIRIT

MARILLA, walking home one late April evening
from an Aid meeting, realized that the winter was
over and gone with the thrill of delight that spring
never fails to bring to the oldest and saddest as well
as to the youngest and merriest. Marilla was not
given to subjective analysis of her thoughts and
feelings. She probably imagined that she was
thinking about the Aids and their missionary box
and the new carpet for the vestry-room, but under
these reflections was a harmonious consciousness
of red fields smoking into pale-purply mists in
the declining sun, of long, sharp-pointed fir shad-
ows falling over the meadow beyond the brook,
of still, crimson-budded maples around a mirror-
like wood-pool, of a wakening in the world and
a stir of hidden pulses under the gray sod. The
spring was abroad in the land and Manila's sober,
middle-aged step was lighter and swifter because
of its deep, primal gladness.

Her eyes dwelt affectionately on Green Gables,
peering through its network of trees and reflecting
the sunlight back from its windows in several little
coruscations of glory. Marilla, as she picked her
steps along the damp lane, thought that it was

271

272 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

really a satisfaction to know that she was going
home to a briskly snapping wood fire and a table
nicely spread for tea, instead of to the cold com-
fort of old Aid meeting evenings before Anne had
come to Green Gables.

Consequently, when Manila entered her kitchen
and found the fire black out, with no sign of Anne
anywhere, she felt justly disappointed and irritated.
She had told Anne to be sure and have tea ready
at five o'clock, but now she must hurry to take off
her second-best dress and prepare the meal herself
against Matthew's return from ploughing.

"I'll settle Miss Anne when she comes home,"
said Manila grimly, as she shaved up kindlings with
a carving knife and more vim than was strictly
necessary. Matthew had come in and was waiting
patiently for his tea in his corner. "She's gadding
off somewhere with Diana, writing stories or prac-
tising dialogues or some such tomfoolery, and never
thinking once about the time or her duties. She's
just got to be pulled up short and sudden on this
sort of thing. I don't care if Mrs. Allan does say
she's the brightest and sweetest child she ever
knew. She may be bright and sweet enough, but
her head is full of nonsense and there's never any
knowing what shape it'll break out in next. Just
as soon as she grows out of one freak she takes up
with another. But there I Here I am saying the
very thing I was riled with Rachel Lynde for say-
ing at the Aid to-day. I was real glad when Mrs.
Allan spoke up for Anne, for if she hadn't I know
I'd have said something too sharp to Rachel before

VANITY AND VEXATION OF SPIRIT 273

everybody. Anne's got plenty of faults, goodness
knows, and far be it from me to deny it. But I'm
bringing her up and not Rachel Lynde, who'd pick
faults in the Angel Gabriel himself if he lived in
Avonlea. Just the same, Anne has no business to
leave the house like this when I told her she was to
stay home this afternoon and look after things. I
must say, with all her faults, I never found her
disobedient or untrustworthy before and I'm real
sorry to find her so now."

"Well now, I dunno," said Matthew, who, being
patient and wise and, above all, hungry, had deemed
it best to let Marilla talk her wrath out unhindered,
having learned by experience that she got through
with whatever work was on hand much quicker if
not delayed by untimely argument. "Perhaps
you're judging her too hasty, Marilla. Don't call
her untrustworthy until you're sure she has dis-
obeyed you. Mebbe it can all be explained — Anne's
a great hand at explaining."

"She's not here when I told her to stay," retorted
Marilla. "I reckon she'll find it hard to explain
that to my satisfaction. Of course I knew you'd
take her part, Matthew. But I'm bringing her up,
not you."

It was dark when supper was ready, and still no
sign of Anne, coming hurriedly over the log bridge
or up Lovers' Lane, breathless and repentant with
a sense of neglected duties. Marilla washed and
put away the dishes grimly. Then, wanting a
candle to light her down cellar, she went up to the
east gable for the one that generally stood on

274 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

Anne's table. Lighting it, she turned around to
see Anne herself lying on the bed, face downward
among the pillows.

"Mercy on us," said astonished Marilla, "have
you been asleep, Anne?"

"No," was the muffled reply.

"Are you sick then?" demanded Marilla anx-
iously, going over to the bed.

Anne cowered deeper into her pillows as if
desirous of hiding herself for ever from mortal eyes.

"No. But please, Marilla, go away and don't
look at me. I'm in the depths of despair and I don't
care who gets head in class or writes the best com-
position or sings in the Sunday-school choir any
more. Little things like that are of no importance
now because I don't suppose I'll ever be able to go
anywhere again. My career is closed. Please,
Marilla, go away and don't look at me."

"Did any one ever hear the like?" the mystified
Marilla wanted to know. "Anne Shirley, whatever
is the matter with you? What have you done?
Get right up this minute and tell me. This minute,
I say. There now, what is it ?"

Anne had slid to the floor in despairing obedience.

"Look at my hair, Marilla," she whispered.

Accordingly, Marilla lifted her candle and looked
scrutinizingly at Anne's hair, flowing in heavy
masses down her back. It certainly had a very
strange appearance.

"Anne Shirley,what have you done to your hair?
Why, it's green!"

Green it might be called, if it were any earthly

VANITY AND VEXATION OF SPIRIT 275

colour — a queer, dull, bronzy green, with streaks
here and there of the original red to heighten the
ghastly effect. Never in all her life had Marilla
seen anything so grotesque as Anne's hair at that
moment.

"Yes, it's green," moaned Anne. "I thought
nothing could be as bad as red hair. But now I
know it's ten times worse to have green hair. Oh,
Marilla, you little know how utterly wretched I am."

"I little know how you got into this fix, but I
mean to find out," said Marilla. "Come right down
to the kitchen — it's too cold up here — and tell me
just what you've done. I've been expecting some-
thing queer for some time. You haven't got into
any scrape for over two months, and I was sure
another one was due. Now, then, what did you do
to your hair?"

"I dyed it."

"Dyed it ! Dyed your hair ! Anne Shirley, didn't
you know it was a wicked thing to do?"

"Yes, I knew it was a little wicked," admitted
Anne. "But I thought it was worth while to be a
little wicked to get rid of red hair. I counted the
cost, Marilla. Besides, I meant to be extra good in
other ways to make up for it."

"Well," said Marilla sarcastically, "if I'd decided
it was worth while to dye my hair I'd have dyed it
a decent colour at least. I wouldn't have dyed :t
green."

"But I didn't mean to dye it green, Marilla," pro-
tested Anne dejectedly. "If I was wicked I meant to
be wicked to some purpose. He said it would turn

276 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

my hair a beautiful raven black — he positively
assured me that it would. How could I doubt his
word, Marilla? I know what it feels like to have
your word doubted. And Mrs. Allan says we should
never suspect any one of not telling us the truth
unless we have proof that they're not. I have proof
now — green hair is proof enough for anybody. But
I hadn't then and I believed every word he said
implicitly."

"Who said? Who are you talking about?"

"The pedlar that was here this afternoon. I
bought the dye from him."

"Anne Shirley, how often have I told you never
to let one of those Italians in the house! I don't
believe in encouraging them to come around at all."

"Oh, I didn't let him in the house. I remembered
what you told me, and I went out, carefully shut the
door, and looked at his things on the step. Besides,
he wasn't an Italian — he was a German Jew. He
had a big box full of very interesting things and he
told me he was working hard to make enough
money to bring his wife and children out from Ger-
many. He spoke so feelingly about them that it
touched my heart. I wanted to buy something from
him to help him in such a worthy object. Then all
at once I saw the bottle of hair dye. The pedlar
said it was warranted to dye any hair a beautiful
raven black and wouldn't wash off. In a trice I saw
myself with beautiful raven black hair and the temp-
tation was irresistible. But the price of the bottle
was seventy-five cents and I had only fifty cents
left out of my chicken money. I think the pedlar

VANITY AND VEXATION OF SPIRIT 277

had a very kind heart, for he said that, seeing it
was me, he'd sell it for fifty cents and that was
just giving it away. So I bought it, and as soon as
he had gone I came up here and applied it with
an old hair-brush as the directions said. I used up
the whole bottle, and oh, Marilla, when I saw the
dreadful colour it turned my hair I repented of
being wicked, I can tell you. And I'~re been re-
penting ever since."

"Well, I hope you'll repent to good purpose," said
Marilla severely, "and that you've got your eyes
opened to where your vanity has led you, Anne.
Goodness knows what's to be done. I suppose the
first thing is to give your hair a good washing and
see if that will do any good."

Accordingly, Anne washed her hair, scrubbing it
vigorously with soap and water, but for all the dif-
ference it made she might as well have been scour-
ing its original red. The pedlar had certainly
spoken the truth when he declared that the dye
wouldn't wash off, however his veracity might be
impeached in other respects.

"Oh, Marilla, what shall I do ?" questioned Anne
in tears. "I can never live this down. People have
pretty well forgotten my other mistakes — the lini-
ment cake and setting Diana drunk and flying into a
temper with Mrs. Lynde. But they'll never forget
this. They will think I am not respectable. Oh,
Marilla, 'what a tangled web we weave when first
we practise to deceive.' That is poetry, but it is
true. And oh, how Josie Pye will laugh! Marilla, I

278 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

cannot face Josie Pye. I am the unhappiest girl in
Prince Edward Island."

Anne's unhappiness continued for a week. Dur-
ing that time she went nowhere and shampooed her
hair every day. Diana alone of outsiders knew the
fatal secret, but she promised solemnly never to
tell, and it may be stated here and now that she
kept her word. At the end of the week Manila
said decidedly:

"It's no use, Anne. That is fast dye if ever there
was any. Your hair must be cut off; there is no
other way. You can't go out with it looking like
that/'

Anne's lips quivered, but she realized the bitter
truth of Manila's remarks. .With a dismal sigh she
went for the scissors.

"Please cut it off at once, Marilla, and have it
over. Oh, I feel that my heart is broken. This is
such an unromantic affliction. The girls in books
lose their hair in fevers or sell it to get money for
some good deed, and I'm sure I wouldn't mind losing
my hair in some such fashion half so much. But
there is nothing comforting in having your hair cut
off because you've dyed it a dreadful colour, is
there? I'm going to weep all the time you're cut-
ting it off, if it won't interfere. It seems such a
tragic thing."

Anne wept then, but later on, when she went up-
stairs and looked in the glass, she was calm with
despair. Marilla had done her work thoroughly and
it had been necessary to shingle the hair as closely
as possible, The result was not becoming, to state

VANITY AND VEXATION OF SPIRIT 279

the case as mildly as may be. Anne promptly
turned her glass to the wall.

"I'll never, never look at myself again until my
hair grows," she exclaimed passionately.

Then she suddenly righted the glass.

"Yes, I will, too. I'd do penance for being wicked
that way. I'll look at myself every time I come to
my room and see how ugly I am. And I won't try
to imagine it away, either. I never thought I was
vain about my hair, of all things, but now I know
I was, in spite of its being red, because it was so
long and thick and curly. I expect something will
happen to my nose next."

Anne's clipped head made a sensation in school on
the following Monday, but to her relief nobody
guessed the real reason for it, not even Josie Pye,
who, however, did not fail to inform Anne that she
looked like a perfect scarecrow.

"I didn't say anything when Josie said that to
me," Anne confided that evening to Marilla, who
was lying on the sofa after one of her headaches,
"because I thought it was part of my punishment
and I ought to bear it patiently. It's hard to be
told you look like a scarecrow and I wanted to say
something back. But I didn't. I just swept her
one scornful look and then I forgave her. It makes
you feel very virtuous when you forgive people,
doesn't it? I mean to devote all my energies to
being good after this and I shall never try to be
beautiful again. Of course it's better to be good.
I know it is, but it's sometimes so hard to believe
a thing even when you know it. I do really want

ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

to be good, Manila, like you and Mrs. Allan and
Miss Stacy, and grow up to be a credit to you.
Diana says when my hair begins to grow to tie a
black velvet ribbon around my head with a bow
at one side. She says she thinks it will be very
becoming. I will call it a snood — that sounds so
romantic. But am I talking too much, Manila?
Does it hurt your head?"

"My head is better now. It was terrible bad this
afternoon, though. These headaches of mine are
getting worse and worse. I'll have to see a doctor
about them. As for your chatter, I don't know that
I mind it — I've got so used to it."

Which was Manila's way of saying that she liked
to hear it.

CHAPTER XXVIII

AN UNFORTUNATE LILY MAID

"Or course you must be Elaine, Anne," said Diana.
"I could never have the courage to float down
there."

"Nor I," said Ruby Gillis with a shiver. "I don't
mind floating down when there's two or three of us
in the flat and we can sit up. It's fun then. But to
lie down and pretend I was dead — I just couldn't.
I'd die really of fright."

"Of course it would be romantic," conceded Jane
Andrews. "But I know I couldn't keep still. I'd
be popping up every minute or so to see where I
was and if I wasn't drifting too far out. And you
know, Anne, that would spoil the effect."

"But it's so ridiculous to have a red-headed
Elaine," mourned Anne. "I'm not afraid to float
down and I'd love to be Elaine. But it's ridiculous
just the same. Ruby ought to be Elaine because she
is so fair and has such lovely long golden hair —
Elaine had 'all her bright hair streaming down/ you
know. And Elaine was the lily maid. Now, a red-
haired person cannot be a lily maid."

"Your complexion is just as fair as Ruby's," said
Diana earnestly, "and your hair is ever so much
darker than it used to be before you cut it."

281

282 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

"Oh, do you really think so?" exclaimed Anne,
flushing sensitively with delight. "I've sometimes
thought it was myself — but I never dared to ask
any one for fear she would tell me it wasn't. Do
you think it could be called auburn now, Diana?"

"Yes, and I think it is real pretty," said Diana,
looking admiringly at the short, silky curls that
clustered over Anne's head and were held in place
by a very jaunty black velvet ribbon and bow.

They were standing on the bank of the pond, be-
low Orchard Slope, where a little headland fringed
with birches ran out from the bank ; at its tip was a
small wooden platform built out into the water for
the convenience of fishermen and duck hunters.
Ruby and Jane were spending the midsummer after-
noon with Diana, and Anne had come over to play
with them.

Anne and Diana had spent most of their playtime
that summer on and about the pond. Idlewild was
a thing of the past, Mr. Bell having ruthlessly cut
down the little circle of trees in his back pasture in
the spring. Anne had sat among the stumps and
wept, not without an eye to the romance of it ; but
she was speedily consoled, for, after all, as she and
Diana said, big girls of thirteen, going on fourteen,
were too old for such childish amusements as play-
houses, and there were more fascinating sports to be
found about the pond. It was splendid to fish for
trout over the bridge and the two girls learned to
row themselves about in the little flat-bottomed
dory Mr. Barry kept for duck shooting.

It was Anne's idea that they dramatize Elaine.

AN UNFORTUNATE LILY MAID 283

They had studied Tennyson's poem in school the
preceding winter, the Superintendent of Education
having prescribed it in the English course for the
Prince Edward Island schools. They had analyzed
and parsed it and torn it to pieces in general until
it was a wonder there was any meaning at all left
in it for them, but at least the fair lily maid and
Lancelot and Guinevere and King Arthur had be-
come very real people to them, and Anne was de-
voured by secret regret that she had not been born
in Camelot. Those days, she said, were so much
more romantic than the present.

Anne's plan was hailed with enthusiasm. The
girls had discovered that if the flat were pushed
off from the landing-place it would drift down with
the current under the bridge and finally strand itself
on another headland lower down which ran out at
a curve in the pond. They had often gone down
like this and nothing could be more convenient for
playing Elaine.

"Well, I'll be Elaine," said Anne, yielding re-
luctantly, for, although she would have been de-
lighted to play the principal character, yet her ar-
tistic sense demanded fitness for it and this, she
felt, her limitations made impossible. "Ruby, you
must be King Arthur and Jane will be Guinevere
and Diana must be Lancelot. But first you must
be the brothers and the father. We can't have the
old dumb servitor because there isn't room for two
in the flat when one is lying down. We must pall
the barge all its length in blackest samite. That

284 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

old black shawl of your mother's will be just the
thing, Diana."

The black shawl having been procured, Anne
spread it over the flat and then lay down on the
bottom, with closed eyes and hands folded over her
breast.

"Oh, she does look really dead," whispered Ruby
Gillis nervously, watching the still, white little face
under the flickering shadows of the birches. "It
makes me feel frightened, girls. Do you suppose
it's really right to act like this? Mrs. Lynde says
that all play-acting is abominably wicked."

"Ruby, you shouldn't talk about Mrs. Lynde,"
said Anne severely. "It spoils the effect because this
is hundreds of years before Mrs. Lynde was born.
Jane, you arrange this. It's silly for Elaine to be
talking when she's dead."

Jane rose to the occasion. Cloth of gold for cov-
erlet there was none, but an old piano scarf of
yellow Japanese crepe was an excellent substitute.
A white lily was not obtainable just then, but the
effect of a tall blue iris placed in one of Anne's
folded hands was all that could be desired.

"Now, she's all ready," said Jane. "We must
kiss her quiet brows and, Diana, you say, 'Sister,
farewell for ever,' and Ruby, you say, 'Farewell,
sweet sister,' both of you as sorrowfully as you
possibly can. Anne, for goodness sake smile a little.
You know Elaine 'lay as though she smiled.' That's
better. Now push the flat off."

The flat was accordingly pushed off, scraping
roughly over an old embedded stake in the process.

AN UNFORTUNATE LILY MAID 285

Diana and Jane and Ruby only waited long enough
to see it caught in the current and headed for the
bridge before scampering up through the woods,
across the road, and down to the lower headland
where, as Lancelot and Guinevere and the King,
they were to be in readiness to receive the lily
maid.

For a few minutes Anne, drifting slowly down,
enjoyed the romance of her situation to the full.
Then something happened not at all romantic. The
flat began to leak. In a very few moments it was
necessary for Elaine to scramble to her feet, pick up
her cloth of gold coverlet and pall of blackest samite
and gaze blankly at a big crack in the bottom of her
barge through which the water was literally pour-
ing. That sharp stake at the landing had torn off
the strip of batting nailed on the flat. Anne did
not know this, but it did not take her long to
realize that she was in a dangerous plight. At this
rate the flat would fill and sink long before it could,
drift to the lower headland. .Where were the oars?
Left behind at the landing!

Anne gave one gasping little scream which no-
body ever heard; she was white to the lips, but she
did not lose her self-possession. There was one
chance — just one.

"I was horribly frightened," she told Mrs. Allan
the next day, "and it seemed like years while the
flat was drifting down to the bridge and the water
rising in it every moment. I prayed, Mrs. Allan,
most earnestly, but I didn't shut my eyes to pray,
for I knew the only way God could save me was

286 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

to let the flat float close enough to one of the bridge
piles for me to climb up on it. You know the piles
are just old tree trunks and there are lots of knots
and old branch stubs on them. It was proper to
pray, but I had to do my part by watching out and
right well I knew it. I just said, 'Dear God, please
take the flat close to a pile and I'll do the rest,'
over and over again. Under such circumstances
you don't think much about making a flowery
prayer. But mine was answered, for the flat
bumped right into a pile for a minute and I flung
the scarf and the shawl over my shoulder and scram-
bled up on a big providential stub. And there I
was, Mrs. Allan, clinging to that slippery old pile
with no way of getting up or down. It was a very
unromantic position, but I didn't think about that
at the time. You don't think much about romance
when you have just escaped from a watery grave.
I said a grateful prayer at once and then I gave
all my attention to holding on tight, for I knew I
should probably have to depend on human aid to
get back to dry land."

The flat drifted under the bridge and then
promptly sank in midstream. Ruby, Jane, and Di-
ana, already awaiting it on the lower headland,
saw it disappear before their very eyes and had not
a doubt but that Anne had gone down with it. For
a moment they stood still, white as sheets, frozen
with horror at the tragedy; then, shrieking at the
tops of their voices, they started on a frantic run
up through the woods, never pausing as they
crossed the main road to glance the way of the

AN UNFORTUNATE LILY MAID 287

bridge. Anne, clinging desperately to her precari-
ous foothold, saw their flying forms and heard their
shrieks. Help would soon come, but meanwhile
her position was a very uncomfortable one.

The minutes passed by, each seeming an hour to
the unfortunate lily maid. Why didn't somebody
come ? Where had the girls gone ? Suppose they
had fainted, one and all ! Suppose nobody ever
came ! Suppose she grew so tired and cramped that
she could hold on no longer! Anne looked at the
wicked green depths below her, wavering with long,
oily shadows, and shivered. Her imagination began
to suggest all manner of gruesome possibilities to
her.

Then, just as she thought she really could not
endure the ache in her arms and wrists another
moment, Gilbert Blythe came rowing under the
bridge in Harmon Andrews' dory!

Gilbert glanced up and, much to his amazement,
beheld a little white scornful face looking down
upon him with big, frightened but also scornful
gray eyes.

"Anne Shirley! How on earth did you get
there?" he exclaimed.

Without waiting for an answer he pulled close to
the pile and extended his hand. There was no help
for it; Anne, clinging to Gilbert Blythe's hand,
scrambled down into the dory, where she sat, drab-
bled and furious, in the stern with her arms full of
dripping shawl and wet crepe. It was certainly
extremely difficult to be dignified under the cir-
cumstances!

288 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

"What has happened, Anne?" asked Gilbert, tak-
ing up his oars.

"We were playing Elaine," explained Anne frig-
idly, without even looking at her rescuer, "and I
had to drift down to Camelot in the barge — I mean
the flat. The flat began to leak and I climbed out
on the pile. The girls went for help. Will you be
kind enough to row me to the landing?"

Gilbert obligingly rowed to the landing and Anne,
disdaining assistance, sprang nimbly on shore.

"I'm very much obliged to you," she said haught-
ily as she turned away. But Gilbert had also
sprung from the boat and now laid a detaining hand
on her arm.

"Anne," he said hurriedly, "look here. Can't
we be good friends? I'm awfully sorry I made fun
of your hair that time. I didn't mean to vex you
and I only meant it for a joke. Besides, it's so long
ago. I think your hair is awfully pretty now —
honest I do. Let's be friends."

For a moment Anne hesitated. She had an odd,
newly awakened consciousness under all her out-
raged dignity that the half-shy, half-eager expres-
sion in Gilbert's hazel eyes was something that was
very good to see. Her heart gave a quick, queer
little beat. But the bitterness of her old grievance
promptly stiffened up her wavering determination.
That scene of two years before flashed back into
her recollection as vividly as if it had taken place
yesterday. Gilbert had called her "carrots" and had
brought about her disgrace before the whole school.
Her resentment, which to other and older people

AN UNFORTUNATE LILY MAID 289

might be as laughable as its cause, was in no whit
allayed and softened by time seemingly. She hated
Gilbert Blythe ! She would never forgive him I

"No," she said coldly, "I shall never be friends
with you, Gilbert Blythe ; and I don't want to be 1"

"All right!" Gilbert sprang into his skiff with
an angry colour in his cheeks. "I'll never ask you
to be friends again, Anne Shirley. And I don't care
either!"

He pulled away with swift defiant strokes, and
Anne went up the steep, ferny little path under the
maples. She held her head very high, but she was
conscious of an odd feeling of regret. She almost
wished she had answered Gilbert differently. Of
course, he had insulted her terribly, but still — !
Altogether, Anne rather thought it would be a relief
to sit down and have a good cry. She was really
quite unstrung, for the reaction from her fright and
cramped clinging was making itself felt.

Half-way up the path she met Jane and Diana
rushing back to the pond in a state narrowly re-
moved from positive frenzy. They had found no-
body at Orchard Slope, both Mr. and Mrs. Barry
being away. Here Ruby Gillis had succumbed to
hysterics, and was left to recover from them as
best she might, while Jane and Diana flew through
the Haunted Wood and across the brook to Green
Gables. There they had found nobody either, for
Marilla had gone to Carmody and Matthew was
making hay in the back field.

"Oh, Anne," gasped Diana, fairly falling on the
former's neck and weeping with relief and delight,

290 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

"Oh, Anne — we thought — you were — drowned —
and we felt like murderers — because we had made
— you be — Elaine. And Ruby is in hysterics— oh,
Anne, how did you escape?"

"I climbed up on one of the piles," explained
Anne wearily, "and Gilbert Blythe came along in
Mr. Andrews' dory and brought me to land."

"Oh, Anne, how splendid of him! Why, it's so
romantic!" said Jane, finding breath enough for
utterance at last. "Of course you'll speak to him
after this."

"Of course I won't," flashed Anne with a mo-
mentary return of her old spirit "And I don't want
ever to hear the word romantic again, Jane An-
drews. I'm awfully sorry you were so frightened,
girls. It is all my fault. I feel sure I was born
under an unlucky star. Everything I do gets me
or my dearest friends into a scrape. We've gone
and lost your father's flat, Diana, and I have a
presentiment that we'll not be allowed to row on
the pond any more."

Anne's presentiment proved more trustworthy
than presentiments are apt to do. Great was the
consternation in the Barry and Cuthbert house-
holds when the events of the afternoon became
known.

"Will you ever have any sense, Anne ?" groaned
Marilla.

"Oh, yes, I think I will, Marilla," returned Anne
optimistically. A good cry, indulged in the grateful
solitude of the east gable, had soothed her nerves
and restored her to her wonted cheerfulness. "I

AN UNFORTUNATE LILY MAID 291

think my prospects of becoming sensible are
brighter now than ever."

"I don't see how/' said Marilla.

"Well," explained Anne, "I've learned a new and
valuable lesson to-day. Ever since I came to Green
Gables I've been making mistakes, and each mistake
has helped to cure me of some great shortcoming.
The affair of the amethyst brooch cured me of med-
dling with things that didn't belong to me. The
Haunted Wood mistake cured me of letting my
imagination run away with me. The liniment cake
mistake cured me of carelessness in cooking. Dye-
ing my hair cured me of vanity. I never think about
my hair and nose now — at least, very seldom. And
to-day's mistake is going to cure me of being too
romantic. I have come to the conclusion that it is
no use trying to be romantic in Avonlea. It was
probably easy enough in towered Camelot hundreds
of years ago, but romance is not appreciated now.
I feel quite sure that you will soon see a great im-
provement in me in this respect, Marilla."

"I'm sure I hope so," said Marilla skeptically.

But Matthew, who had been sitting mutely in
his corner, laid a hand on Anne's shoulder when
Marilla had gone out.

"Don't give up all your romance, Anne," he
whispered shyly, "a little of it is a good thing—
not too much, of course — but keep a little of it,
Anne, keep a little of it."

CHAPTER XXIX
AN EPOCH IN ANNE'S LIFE

ANNE was bringing the cows home from the back
pasture by way of Lovers' Lane. It was a Septem-
ber evening and all the gaps and clearings in the
woods were brimmed up with ruby sunset light.
Here and there the lane was splashed with it, but
for the most part it was already quite shadowy
beneath the maples, and the spaces under the firs
were filled with a clear violet dusk like airy wine.
The winds were out in their tops, and there is no
sweeter music on earth than that which the wind
makes in the fir-trees at evening.

The cows swung placidly down the lane, and
Anne followed them dreamily, repeating aloud the
battle canto from "Marmion" — which had also been
part of their English course the preceding winter
and which Miss Stacy had made them learn off by
heart — and exulting in its rushing lines and the
clash of spears in its imagery. When she came to
the lines:

"The stubborn spearsmen still made good
Their dark impenetrable wood,"

she stopped in ecstasy to shut her eyes that she
might the better fancy herself one of that heroic
ring. When she opened them again it was to be-

292

AN EPOCH IN ANNE'S LIFE 293

hold Diana coming through the gate that led into
the Barry field and looking so important that Anne
instantly divined there was news to be told. But
betray too eager curiosity she would not.

"Isn't this evening just like a purple dream,
Diana? It makes me so glad to be rlive. In the
mornings I always think the mornings are best; but
when evening comes I think it's lovelier still."

"It's a very fine evening," said Diana, "but oh,
I have such news, Anne. Guess. You can have
three guesses."

"Charlotte Gillis is going to be married in the
church after all and Mrs. Allan wants us to deco-
rate it," cried Anne.

"No. Charlotte's beau won't agree to that, be-
cause nobody ever has been married in the church
yet, and he thinks it would seem too much like a
funeral. It's too mean, because it would be such
fun. Guess again."

"Jane's mother is going to let her have a birth-
day party?"

Diana shook her head, her black eyes dancing
with merriment.

"I can't think what it can be," said Anne in
despair, "unless it's that Moody Spurgeon MacPher-
son saw you home from prayer-meeting last night
Did he?"

"I should think not," exclaimed Diana indig-
nantly. "I wouldn't be likely to boast of it if he
did, the horrid creature ! I knew you couldn't guess
it. Mother had a letter from Aunt Josephine to-
day, and Aunt Josephine wants you and me to go

294 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

to town next Tuesday and stop with her for the
Exhibition. There !"

"Oh, Diana," whispered Anne, finding it neces-
sary to lean up against a maple-tree for support,
"do you really mean it? But I'm afraid Marilla
won't let me go. She will say that she can't encour-
age gadding about. That was what she said last
week when Jane invited me to go with them in their
double-seated buggy to the American concert at the
White Sands Hotel. I wanted to go, but Marilla
said I'd be better at home learning my lessons and
so would Jane. I was bitterly disappointed, Diana.
I felt so heart-broken that I wouldn't say my pray-
ers when I went to bed. But I repented of that and
got up in the middle of the night and said them."

"I'll tell you," said Diana, "we'll get mother to
ask Marilla. She'll be more likely to let you go
then; and if she does we'll have the time of our
lives, Anne. I've never been to an Exhibition, and
it's so aggravating to hear the other girls talking
about their trips. Jane and Ruby have been twice,
and they're going this year again."

"I'm not going to think about it at all until I
know whether I can go or not," said Anne reso-
lutely. "If I did and then was disappointed, it
would be more than I could bear. But in case I do
go I'm very glad my new coat will be ready by that
time. Marilla didn't think I needed a new coat.
She said my old one would do very well for another
winter and that I ought to be satisfied with having
a new dress. The dress is very pretty, Diana —
navy blue and made so fashionably. Marilla always

AN EPOCH IN ANNE'S LIFE 295

makes my dresses fashionably now, because she says
she doesn't intend to have Matthew going to Mrs.
Lynde to make them. I'm so glad. It is ever so
much easier to be good if your clothes are fashion-
able. At least, it is easier for me. I suppose it
doesn't make such a difference to naturally good
people. But Matthew said I must have a new coat,
so Marilla bought a lovely piece of blue broadcloth,
and it's being made by a real dressmaker over at
Carmody. It's to be done Saturday night, and I'm
trying not to imagine myself walking up the church
aisle on Sunday in my new suit and cap, because I'm
afraid it isn't right to imagine such things. But it
just slips into my mind in spite of me. My cap is
so pretty. Matthew bought it for me the day we
were over at Carmody. It is one of those little blue
velvet ones that are all the rage, with gold cord and
tassels. Your new hat is elegant, Diana, and so
becoming. When I saw you come into church last
Sunday my heart swelled with pride to think you
were my dearest friend. Do you suppose it's wrong
for us to think so much about our clothes? Marilla
says it is very sinful. But it is such an interesting
subject, isn't it?"

Marilla agreed to let Anne go to town, and it was
arranged that Mr. Barry should take the girls in on
the following Tuesday. As Charlottetown was
thirty miles away and Mr. Barry wished to go and
return the same day, it was necessary to make a
very early start. But Anne counted it all joy, and
was up before sunrise on Tuesday morning. A
glance from her window assured her that the day

296 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

would be fine, for the eastern sky behind the firs
of the Haunted Wood was all silvery and cloudless.
Through the gap in the trees a light was shining
in the western gable of Orchard Slope, a token
that Diana was also up.

Anne was dressed by the time Matthew had the
fire on and had the breakfast ready when Marilla
came down, but for her own part was much too ex-
cited to eat. After breakfast the jaunty new cap
and jacket were donned, and Anne hastened over
the brook and up through the firs to Orchard Slope.
Mr. Barry and Diana were waiting for her, and they;
were soon on the road.

It was a long drive, but Anne and Diana enjoyed
every minute of it. It was delightful to rattle along
over the moist roads in the early red sunlight that
was creeping across the shorn harvest fields. The
air was fresh and crisp, and little smoke-blue mists
curled through the valleys and floated off from the
hills. Sometimes the road went through woods
where maples were beginning to hang out scarlet
banners; sometimes it crossed rivers on bridges
that made Anne's flesh cringe with the old, half-
delightful fear; sometimes it wound along a harbour
shore and passed by a little cluster of weather-gray
fishing huts ; again it mounted to hills whence a far
sweep of curving upland or misty blue sky could be
seen; but wherever it went there was much of in-
terest to discuss. It was almost noon when they
reached town and found their way to "Beechwood."
It was quite a fine old mansion, set back from the
street in a seclusion of green elms and branching

AN EPOCH IN ANNE'S LIFE 297

beeches. Miss Barry met them at the door with
a twinkle in her sharp black eyes.

"So you've come to see me at last, you Anne-
girl," she said. "Mercy, child, how you have
grown ! You're taller than I am, I declare. And
you're ever so much better-looking than you used
to be, too. But I dare say you know that without
being told."

"Indeed I didn't," said Anne radiantly. "I know
I'm not so freckled as I used to be, so I've much to
be thankful for, but I really hadn't dared to hope
there was any other improvement. I'm so glad you
think there is, Miss Barry."

Miss Barry's house was furnished with "great
magnificence," as Anne told Marilla afterwards.
The two little country girls were rather abashed by
the splendour of the parlour where Miss Barry left
them when she went to see about dinner.

"Isn't it just like a palace?" whispered Diana.
"I never was in Aunt Josephine's house before, and
I'd no idea it was so grand. I just wish Julia Bell
could see this — she puts on such airs about her
mother's parlour."

"Velvet carpet," sighed Anne luxuriously, "and
silk curtains ! I've dreamed of such things, Diana.
But do you know I don't believe I feel very comfort-
able with them after all. There are so many things
in this room and all so splendid that there is no
scope for imagination. That is one consolation
when you are poor — there are so many more things
you can imagine about."

Their sojourn in town was something that Anne

298 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

and Diana dated from for years. From first to last
it was crowded with delights.

On Wednesday Miss Barry took them to the Ex-
hibition grounds and kept them there all day.

"It was splendid," Anne related to Marilla later
on. "I never imagined anything so interesting. I
don't really know which department was the most
interesting. I think I liked the horses and the flow-
ers and the fancy work best. Josie Pye took first
prize for knitted lace. I was real glad she did. And
I was glad that I felt glad, for it shows I'm improv-
ing, don't you think, Marilla, when I can rejoice in
Josie's success ? Mr. Harmon Andrews took second
prize for Gravenstein apples and Mr. Bell took first
prize for a pig. Diana said she thought it was ridic-
ulous for a Sunday-school superintendent to take a
prize in pigs, but I don't see why. Do you? She
said she would always think of it after this when he
was praying so solemnly. Clara Louise MacPher-
son took a prize for painting, and Mrs. Lynde got
first prize for home-made butter and cheese. So
Avonlea was pretty well represented, wasn't it?
Mrs. Lynde was there that day, and I never knew
how much I really liked her until I saw her familiar
face among all those strangers. There were thous-
ands of people there, Marilla. It made me feel
dreadfully insignificant. And Miss Barry took us
up to the grand stand to see the horse-races. Mrs.
Lynde wouldn't go; she said horse-racing was an
abomination, and she being a church-member,
thought it her bounden duty to set a good example
by staying away. But there were so many there

AN EPOCH IN ANNE'S LIFE 299

I don't believe Mrs. Lynde's absence would ever be
noticed. I don't think, though, that I ought to go
very often to horse-races, because they are awfully
fascinating. Diana got so excited that she offered
to bet me ten cents that the red horse would win.
I didn't believe he would, but I refused to bet,
because I wanted to tell Mrs. Allan all about every-
thing, and I felt sure it wouldn't do to tell her
that. It's always wrong to do anything you can't
tell the minister's wife. It's as good as an extra
conscience to have a minister's wife for your friend.
And I was very glad I didn't bet, because the red
horse did win, and I would have lost ten cents.
So you see that virtue was its own reward. We
saw a man go up in a balloon. I'd love to go up
in a balloon, Marilla; it would be simply thrilling;
and we saw a man selling fortunes. You paid him
ten cents and a little bird picked out your fortune
for you. Miss Barry gave Diana and me ten cents
each to have our fortunes told. Mine was that I
would marry a dark-complected man who was very
wealthy, and I would go across water to live. I
looked carefully at all the dark men I saw after
that, but I didn't care much for any of them, and
anyhow I suppose it's too early to be looking out
for him yet. Oh, it was a never-to-be-forgotten
day, Marilla. I was so tired I couldn't sleep at
night. Miss Barry put us in the spare room, accord-
ing to promise. It was an elegant room, Marilla,
but somehow sleeping in a spare room isn't what
I used to think it was. That's the worst of growing
up, and I'm beginning to realize it. The things

300 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

you wanted so much when you were a child don't
seem half so wonderful to you when you get them/'

Thursday the girls had a drive in the park, and in
the evening Miss Barry took them to a concert in
the Academy of Music, where a noted prima donna
was to sing. To Anne the evening was a glittering
vision of delight.

"Oh, Marilla, it was beyond description. I was
So excited I couldn't even talk, so you may know
what it was like. I just sat in enraptured silence.
Madame Selitsky was perfectly beautiful, and wore
white satin and diamonds. But when she began to
sing I never thought about anything else. Oh, I
can't tell you how I felt. But it seemed to me that
it could never be hard to be good any more. I felt
like I do when I look up to the stars. Tears came
into my eyes, but, oh, they were such happy tears.
I was so sorry when it was all over, and I told Miss
Barry I didn't see how I was ever to return to com-
mon life again. She said she thought if we went
over to the restaurant across the street and had an
ice-cream it might help me. That sounded so pro-
saic ; but to my surprise I found it true. The ice-
cream was delicious, Marilla, and it was so lovely
and dissipated to be sitting there eating it at eleven
o'clock at night. Diana said she believed she was
born for city life. Miss Barry asked me what my
opinion was, but I said I would have to think it
over very seriously before I could tell her what I
really thought. So I thought it over after I went
to bed. That is the best time to think things out.
And I came to the conclusion, Marilla, that I wasn't

AN EPOCH IN ANNE'S LIFE

born for city life and that I was glad of it. It's
nice to be eating ice-cream at brilliant restaurants at
eleven o'clock at night once in awhile ; but as a regu-
lar thing I'd rather be in the east gable at eleven,
sound asleep, but kind of knowing even in my sleep
that the stars were shining outside and that the
wind was blowing in the firs across the brook. I
told Miss Barry so at breakfast the next morning
and she laughed. Miss Barry generally laughed at
anything I said, even when I said the most solemn
things. I don't think I liked it, Marilla, because
I wasn't trying to be funny. But she is a most
hospitable lady and treated us royally."

Friday brought going-home time, and Mr. Barry
drove in for the girls.

"Well, I hope you've enjoyed yourselves," said
Miss Barry, as she bade them good-bye.

"Indeed we have," said Diana.

"And you, Anne-girl?"

"I've enjoyed every minute of the time," said
Anne, throwing her arms impulsively about the old
woman's neck and kissing her wrinkled cheek. Di-
ana would never have dared to do such a thing, and
felt rather aghast at Anne's freedom. But Miss
Barry was pleased, and she stood on her veranda
and watched the buggy out of sight Then she went
back into her big house with a sigh. It seemed very
lonely, lacking those fresh young lives. Miss Barry
was a rather selfish old lady, if the truth must be
told, and had never cared much for anybody but her-
self. She valued people only as they were of service
to her or amused her. Anne had amused her, and

802 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

consequently stood high in the old lady's good
graces. But Miss Barry found herself thinking less
about Anne's quaint speeches than of her fresh en-
thusiasms, her transparent emotions, her little win-
ning ways, and the sweetness of her eyes and lips.

"I thought Marilla Cuthbert was an old fool
when I heard she'd adopted a girl out of an orphan
asylum," she said to herself, "but I guess she didn't
make much of a mistake after all. If I'd a child
like Anne in the house all the time I'd be a better
and happier woman."

Anne and Diana found the drive home as pleasant

as the drive in pleasanter, indeed, since there

was the delightful consciousness of home waiting at
the end of it. It was sunset when they passed
through White Sands and turned into the shore
road. Beyond, the Avonlea hills came out darkly
against the saffron sky. Behind them the moon was
rising out of the sea that grew all radiant and trans-
figured in her light. Every little cove along the
curving road was a marvel of dancing ripples. The
waves broke with a soft swish on the rocks below
them, and the tang of the sea was in the strong,
fresh air.

"Oh, but it's good to be alive and to be going
home," breathed Anne.

When she crossed the log bridge over the brook
the kitchen light of Green Gables winked her a
friendly welcome back, and through the open door
shone the hearth fire, sending out its warm red glow
athwart the chilly autumn night. Anne ran blithely

AN EPOCH IN ANNE'S LIFE 303

up the hill and into the kitchen, where a hot supper
was waiting on the table.

"So you've got back?" said Manila, folding up
her knitting.

"Yes, and, oh, it's so good to be back," said Anne
joyously. "I could kiss everything, even to the
clock. Marilla, a broiled chicken ! You don't mean
to say you cooked that for mel"

"Yes, I did," said Marilla. "I thought you'd be
hungry after such a drive and need something real
appetizing. Hurry and take off your things, and
we'll have supper as soon as Matthew comes in.
I'm glad you've got back, I must say. It's been
fearful lonesome here without you, and I never put
in four longer days."

After supper Anne sat before the fire between
Matthew and Marilla, and gave them a full account
of her visit.

"I've had a splendid time," she concluded happily,
"and I feel that it marks an epoch in my life. But
the best of it all was the coming home."

CHAPTER XXX
THE QUEEN'S CLASS is ORGANIZED

MARILLA laid her knitting on her lap and leaned
back in her chair. Her eyes were tired, and she
thought vaguely that she must see about having
her glasses changed the next time she went to town,
for her eyes had grown tired very often of late.

It was nearly dark, for the dull November twi-
light had fallen around Green Gables, and the only
light in the kitchen came from the dancing red
flames of the stove.

Anne was curled up Turk-fashion on the hearth-
rug, gazing into that joyous glow where the sun-
shine of a hundred summers was being distilled
from the maple cord-wood. She had been reading,
but her book had slipped to the floor, and now she
was dreaming, with a smile on her parted lips.
Glittering castles in Spain were shaping themselves
out of the mists and rainbows of her lively fancy;
adventures wonderful and enthralling were happen-
ing to her in cloudland — adventures that always
turned out triumphantly and never involved her in
scrapes like those of actual life.

Marilla looked at her with a tenderness that
would never have been suffered to reveal itself in
any clearer light than that soft mingling of fireshine

804

THE CLASS IS ORGANIZED 305

and shadow. The lesson of a love that should dis-
play itself easily in spoken word and open look was
one Marilla could never learn. But she had learned
to love this slim, gray-eyed girl with an affection all
the deeper and stronger from its very undemonstra-
tiveness. Her love made her afraid of being unduly
indulgent, indeed. She had an uneasy feeling that
it was rather sinful to set one's heart so intensely
on any human creature as she had set hers on Anne,
and perhaps she performed a sort of unconscious
penance for this by being stricter and more critical
than if the girl had been less dear to her. Certainly
Anne herself had no idea how Marilla loved her.
She sometimes thought wistfully that Marilla was
very hard to please and distinctly lacking in sympa-
thy and understanding. But she always checked the
thought reproachfully remembering what she owed
to Marilla.

"Anne," said Marilla abruptly, "Miss Stacy was
here this afternoon when you were out with Diana."

Anne came back from her other world with a
etart and a sigh.

"Was she ? Oh, I'm so sorry I wasn't in. Why
didn't you call me, Marilla ? Diana and I were only
over in the Haunted Wood. It's lovely in the
woods now. All the little wood things — the ferns
and the satin leaves and the crackerberries — have
gone to sleep, just as if somebody had tucked them
away until spring under a blanket ef leaves. I
think it was a little gray fairy with a rainbow scarf
that came tiptoeing along the last moonlight night
and did it. Diana wouldn't say much about that.

306 ANNE OF GREEN QABLES

though. Diana has never forgotten the scolding
her mother gave her about imagining ghosts into
the Haunted Wood. It had a very bad effect on
Diana's imagination. It blighted it. Mrs. Lynde
says Myrtle Bell is a blighted being. I asked Ruby
Gillis why Myrtle was blighted, and Ruby said she
guessed it was because her young man had gone
back on her. Ruby Gillis thinks of nothing but
young men, and the older she gets the worse she
is. Young men are all very well in their place,
but it doesn't do to drag them into everything, does
it ? Diana and I are thinking seriously of promising
each other that we will never marry but be nice
old maids and live together for ever. Diana hasn't
quite made up her mind though, because she thinks
perhaps it would be nobler to marry some wild,
dashing, wicked young man and reform him. Diana
and I talk a great deal about serious subjects now,
you know. We feel that we are so much older
than we used to be that it isn't becoming to talk of
childish matters. It's such a solemn thing to be
almost fourteen, Marilla. Miss Stacy took all us
girls who are in our teens down to the brook last
Wednesday, and talked to us about it. She said
we couldn't be too careful what habits we formed
and what ideals we acquired in our teens, because
by the time we were twenty our characters would
be developed and the foundation laid for our whole
future life. And she said if the foundation was
shaky we could never build anything really worth
while on it. Diana and I talked the matter over
coming home from school. We felt extremely

THE CLASS IS ORGANIZED 807

Solemn, Manila. And we decided that we would try
to be very careful indeed and form respectable
habits and learn all we could and be as sensible as
possible, so that by the time we were twenty our
characters would be properly developed. It's per-
fectly appalling to think of being twenty, Marilla.
It sounds so fearfully old and grown up. But why
was Miss Stacy here this afternoon?"

"That is what I want to tell you, Anne, if you'll
ever give me a chance to get a word in edgewise.
She was talking about you."

"About me?" Anne looked rather scared. Then
she flushed and exclaimed :

"Oh, I know what she was saying. I meant to
tell you, Marilla, honestly I did, but I forgot. Miss
Stacy caught me reading 'Ben Hur' in school yester-
day afternoon when I should have been studying my
Canadian history. Jane Andrews lent it to me. I
was reading it at dinner-hour, and I had just got to
the chariot-race when school went in. I was simply
wild to know how it turned out — although I felt
sure 'Ben Hur' must win, because it wouldn't be
poetical justice if he didn't — so I spread the history
open on my desk-lid and then tucked "Ben Hur'
between the desk and my knee. It just looked as if
I was studying Canadian history, you know, while
all the while I was revelling in 'Ben Hur.' I was
so interested in it that I never noticed Miss Stacy
coming down the aisle until all at once I just looked
up and there she was looking down at me, so re-
proachful like. I can't tell you how ashamed I
felt, Marilla, especially when I heard Josie Pye gig-

308 ANNE OP GREEN GABLES

gling. Miss Stacy took 'Ben Hur' away, but she
never said a word then. She kept me in at recess
and talked to me. She said I had done very wrong
in two respects. First, I was wasting the time I
ought to have put on my studies; and secondly E
was deceiving my teacher in trying to make it ap-
pear I was reading a history when it was a story-
book instead. I had never realized until that mo-
ment, Marilla, that what I was doing was deceitful,
I was shocked. I cried bitterly, and asked Miss
Stacy to forgive me and I'd never do such a thing
again; and I offered to do penance by never so
much as looking at 'Ben Hur' for a whole week,
not even to see how the chariot-race turned out.
But Miss Stacy said she wouldn't require that, and
she forgave me freely. So I think it wasn't very
kind of her to come up here to you about it after
all."

"Miss Stacy never mentioned such a thing to me,
Anne, and it's only your guilty conscience that's the
matter with you. You have no business to be tak-
ing story-books to school. You read too many
novels anyhow. When I was a girl I wasn't so
much as allowed to look at a novel."

"Oh, how can you call 'Ben Hur' a novel when
it's really such a religious book?" protested Anne.
"Of course it's a little too exciting to be proper
reading for Sunday, and I only read it on week-days.
And I never read any book now unless either Miss
Stacy or Mrs. Allan thinks it is a proper book for
a girl thirteen and three-quarters to read. Miss
Stacy made me promise that. She found me reading

tTHE CLASS IS ORGANIZED 309

a book one day called, The Lurid Mystery of the
Haunted Hall.' It was one Ruby Gillis had lent me,
and, oh, Marilla, it was so fascinating and creepy.
It just curdled the blood in my veins. But Miss
Stacy said it was a very silly, unwholesome book,
and she asked me not to read any more of it or
any like it. I didn't mind promising not to read
any more like it, but it was agonizing to give back
that book without knowing how it turned out. But
my love for Miss Stacy stood the test and I did.
It's really wonderful, Marilla, what you can do when
you're truly anxious to please a certain person."

"Well, I guess I'll light the lamp and get to
work," said Marilla. "I see plainly that you don't
want to hear what Miss Stacy had to say. You're
more interested in the sound of your own tongue
than in anything else."

"Oh, indeed, Marilla, I do want to hear it," cried
Anne contritely. "I won't say another word — not
one. I know I talk too much, but I am really trying
to overcome it, and although I say far too much,
yet if you only knew how many things I want to
say and don't, you'd give me some credit for it
Please tell me, Marilla."

"Well, Miss Stacy wants to organize a class
among her advanced students who mean to study
for the entrance examination into Queen's. She in-
tends to give them extra lessons for an hour after
school. And she came to ask Matthew and me if
we would like to have you join it. iWhat do you
think about it yourself, Anne? Would you like to
go to Queen's and pass for a teacher?"

310 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

"Oh, Marilla!" Anne straightened to her knees
and clasped her hands. "It's been the dream of
my life — that is, for the last six months, ever since
Ruby and Jane began to talk of studying for the en-
trance. But I didn't say anything about it, because
I supposed it would be perfectly useless. I'd love
to be a teacher. But won't it be dreadfully expen-
sive? Mr.. Andrews says it cost him one hundred
and fifty dollars to put Prissy through, and Prissy
wasn't a dunce in geometry?"

"I guess you needn't worry about that part of it.
When Matthew and I took you to bring up we re-
solved we would do the best we could for you and
give you a good education. I believe in a girl being
fitted to earn her own living whether she ever has
to or not. You'll always have a home at Green
Gables as long as Matthew and I are here, but no-
body knows what is going to happen in this uncer-
tain world, and it's just as well to be prepared. So
you can join the Queen's class if you like, Anne."

"Oh, Marilla, thank you." Anne flung her arms
about Manila's waist and looked up earnestly into her
face. "I'm extremely grateful to you and Matthew.
And I'll study as hard as I can and do my very best
to be a credit to you. I warn you not to expect much
in geometry, but I think I can hold my own in anything
else if I work hard."

"I dare say you'll get along well enough. Miss
Stacy says you are bright and diligent" Not for
worlds would Marilla have told Anne just what Miss
Stacy had said about her; that would have been to
pamper vanity. "You needn't rush to any extreme of

THE CLASS IS ORGANIZED 311

killing yourself over your books. There is no hurry.
You won't be ready to try the entrance for a year
and a half yet. But it's well to begin in time and be
thoroughly grounded, Miss Stacy says."

"I shall take more interest than ever in my studies
now," said Anne blissfully, "because I have a purpose
in life. Mr. Allan says everybody should have a pur-
pose in life and pursue it faithfully. Only he says
we must first make sure that it is a worthy purpose.
I would call it a worthy purpose to want to be a teacher
like Miss Stacy, wouldn't you, Marilla? I think it's
a very noble profession."

The Queen's class was organized in due time. Gil-
bert Blythe, Anne Shirley, Ruby Gillis, Jane Andrews,
Josie Pye, Charlie Sloane, and Moody Spurgeon Mac-
Pherson joined it. Diana Barry did not, as her
parents did not intend to send her to Queen's. This
seemed nothing short of a calamity to Anne. Never,
since the night on which Minnie May had had the
croup, had she and Diana been separated in anything.
On the evening when the Queen's class first remained
in school for the extra lessons and Anne saw Diana go
slowly out with the others, to walk home alone through
the Birch Path and Violet Vale, it was all the former
could do to keep her seat and refrain from rushing im-
pulsively after her chum. A lump came into her throat,
and she hastily retired behind the pages of her uplifted
Latin grammar to hide the tears in her eyes. Not for
worlds would Anne have had Gilbert Blythe or Josie
Pye see those tears.

"But, oh, Marilla, I really felt that I had tasted
the bitterness of death, as Mr. Allan said in his sermon

312 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

last Sunday, when I saw Diana go out alone," she said
mournfully that night "I thought how splendid it
would have been if Diana had only been going to study
for the Entrance, too. But we can't have things per-
fect vn this imperfect world, as Mrs. Lynde says. Mrs.
Lynde isn't exactly a comforting person sometimes, but
there's no doubt she says a great many very true things.
And I think the Queen's class is going to be extremely
interesting. Jane and Ruby are just going to study to
be teachers. That is the height of their ambition. Ruby
says she will only teach for two years after she gets
through, and then she intends to be married. Jane says
she will devote her whole life to teaching, and never,
never marry, because you are paid a salary for teach-
ing, but a husband won't pay you anything, and growls
if you ask for a share in the egg and butter money.
I expect Jane speaks from mournful experience, for
Mrs. Lynde says that her father is a perfect old crank,
and meaner than second skimmings. Josie Pye says
she is just going to college for education's sake, be-
cause she won't have to earn her own living ; she says
of course it is different with orphans who are living on
charity — they have to hustle. Moody Spurgeon is go-
ing to be a minister. Mrs. Lynde says he couldn't be
anything else with a name like that to live up to. I
hope it isn't wicked of me, Marilla, but really the
thought of Moody Spurgeon being a minister makes
me laugh. He's such a funny-looking boy with that
big fat face, and his little blue eyes, and his ears stick-
ing out like flaps. But perhaps he will be more intel-
lectual-looking when he grows up. Charlie Sloane
says he's going to go into politics and be a member of

THE CLASS 13 ORGANIZED 318

Parliament, but Mrs. Lynde says he'll never succeed at
that, because the Sloanes are all honest people, and it's
only rascals that get on in politics nowadays."

"What is Gilbert Blytlre going to be?" queried Ma-
nila, seeing that Anne was opening her Caesar.

"I don't happen to know what Gilbert Blythe's am-
bition in life is — if he has any," said Anne scornfully.

There was open rivalry between Gilbert and Anne
now. Previously the rivalry had been rather one-
sided, but there was no longer any doubt that Gilbert
was as determined to be first in class as Anne was.
He was a foeman worthy of her steel. The other
members of the class tacitly acknowledged their su-
periority, and never dreamed of trying to compete with
them.

Since the day by the pond when she had refused to
listen to his plea for forgiveness, Gilbert, save for the
aforesaid determined rivalry, had evinced no recogni-
tion whatever of the existence of Anne Shirley. He
talked and jested with the other girls, exchanged books
and puzzles with them, discussed lessons and plans,
sometimes walked home with one or the other of them
from prayer-meeting or Debating Club. But Anne
Shirley he simply ignored, and Anne found out that it
was not pleasant to be ignored. It was in vain that
she told herself with a toss of her head that she did
not care. Deep down in her wayward, feminine little
heart she knew that she did care, and mat if she had
that chance of the Lake of Shining Waters again she
would answer very differently. All at once, as it
seemed, and to her secret dismay, she found that the
old resentment she had cherished against him was gone

314 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

— gone just when she most needed its sustaining power.
It was in vain that she recalled every incident and emo-
tion of that memorable occasion and tried to feel the
old satisfying anger. That day by the pond had wit-
nessed its last spasmodic flicker. Anne realized that
she had forgiven and forgotten without knowing it
But it was too late.

And at least neither Gilbert nor anybody else, not
even Diana, should ever suspect how sorry she was
and how much she wished she hadn't been so proud
and horrid! She determined to "shroud her feelings
in deepest oblivion," and it may be stated here and now
that she did it, so successfully that Gilbert, who pos-
sibly was not quite so indifferent as he seemed, could
not console himself with any belief that Anne felt his
retaliatory scorn. The only poor comfort he had was
that she snubbed Charlie Sloane, unmercifully, con-
tinually and undeservedly.

Otherwise the winter passed away in a round of
pleasant duties and studies. For Anne the days slipped
by like golden beads on the necklace of the year. She
was happy, eager, interested; there were lessons to
be learned and honours to be won ; delightful books to
read ; new pieces to be practised for the Sunday-school
choir; pleasant Saturday afternoons at the manse with
Mrs. Allan ; and then, almost before Anne realized it,
spring had come again to Green Gables and all the
world was abloom once more.

Studies palled just a wee bit then ; the Queen's class,
left behind in school while the others scattered to green
lanes and leafy wood-cuts and meadow byways, looked
wistfullv out of the windows and discovered that Latin

THE CLASS IS ORGANIZED 315

verbs and French exercises had somehow lost the tang
and zest they had possessed in the crisp winter months.
Even Anne and Gilbert lagged and grew indifferent.
Teacher and taught were alike glad when the term was
ended and the glad vacation days stretched rosily be-
fore them.

"But you've done good work this past year," Miss
Stacy told them on the last evening, "and you deserve
a good, jolly vacation. Have the best time you can
in the out-of-door world and lay in a good stock of
health and vitality and ambition to carry you through
next year. It will be the tug of war, you know — the
last year before the Entrance."

"Are you going to be back next year, Miss Stacy?"
asked Josie Pye.

Josie Pye never scrupled to ask questions ; in this in-
stance the rest of the class felt grateful to her; none
of them would have dared to ask it of Miss Stacy ; but
all wanted to, for there had been alarming rumours
running at large through the school for some time that
Miss Stacy was not coming back the next year — that
she had been offered a position in the graded school of
her own home district and meant to accept. The
Queen's class listened in breathless suspense for her
answer.

"Yes, I think I will," said Miss Stacy. "I thought
of taking another school, but I have decided to come
back to Avonlea. To tell the truth, I've grown so
interested in my pupils here that I found I couldn't
leave them. So I'll stay and see you through."

"Hurrah!" said Moody Spurgeon. Moody Spar-
geon had never been so carried away by his feelings

816 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

before, and he blushed uncomfortably every time he
thought about it for a week.

"Oh, I'm so glad," said Anne with shining eyes.
"Dear Miss Stacy, it would be perfectly dreadful if
you didn't come back. I don't believe I could have
the heart to go on with my studies at all if another
teacher came here."

When Anne got home that night she stacked all
her text-books away in an old trunk in the attic, locked
it, and threw the key into the blanket box.

"I'm not even going to look at a school book in
vacation," she told Marilla. "I've studied as hard all
the term as I possibly could and I've pored over that
geometry until I know every proposition in the first
book off by heart, even when the letters are changed.
I just feel tired of everything sensible and I'm going
to let my imagination run riot for the summer. Oh,
you needn't be alarmed, Marilla. I'll only let it run
riot within reasonable limits. But I want to have a
real good jolly time this summer, for maybe it's the
last summer I'll be a little girl. Mrs. Lynde says that
if I keep stretching out next year as I've done this I'll
have to put on longer skirts. She says I'm all running
to legs and eyes. And when I put on longer skirts I
shall feel that I have to live up to them and be very
dignified. It won't even do to believe in fairies then,
I'm afraid ; so I'm going to believe in them with all my
whole heart this summer. I think we're going to have
a very gay vacation. Ruby Gillis is going to have a
birthday party soon and there's the Sunday-school
picnic and the missionary concert next month. And
Mr. Barry says that some evening he'll take Diana and

THE CLASS IS ORGANIZED 81?

me over to the White Sands Hotel and have dinner
there. They have dinner there in the evening, you
know. Jane Andrews was over once last summet and
she says it was a dazzling sight to see the electric
lights and the flowers and all the lady guests in such
beautiful dresses. Jane says it was her first glimpse
into high life and she'll never forget it to her dying
day."

Mrs. Lynde came up the next afternoon to find out
why Marilla had not been at the Aid meeting on
Thursday. When Marilla was not at Aid meeting
people knew that there was something wrong at Green
Gables.

"Matthew had a bad spell with his heart Thursday,"
Marilla explained, "and I didn't feel like leaving him.
Oh, yes, he's all right again now, but he takes them
spells oftener than he used to and I'm anxious abou*i
him. The doctor says he must be careful to avoid ex-
citement. That's easy enough, for Matthew doesn't
go about looking for excitement by any means and
never did, but he's not to do any very heavy work
either and you might as well tell Matthew not to
breathe as not to work. Come and lay off your
things, Rachel. You'll stay for tea?"

"Well, seeing you're so pressing, perhaps I might as
well stay/' said Mrs. Rachel, who had not the slightest
intention of doing anything else.

Mrs. Rachel and Marilla sat comfortably in the
parlour while Anne got the tea and made hot biscuits
that were light and white enough to defy even Mrs.
Rachel's criticism.

"I must say Anne has turned out a real smart girl,"

818 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

admitted Mrs. Rachel, as Marilla accompanied her to
the end of the lane at sunset "She must be a great
help to you."

"She is," said Marilla, "and she's real steady and
reliable now. I used to be afraid she'd never get over
her feather-brained ways, but she has and I wouldn't
be afraid to trust her in anything now."

"I never would have thought she'd have turned out
so well that first day I was here three years ago," said
Mrs. Rachel. "Lawful heart, shall I ever forget that
tantrum of hers ! When I went home that night I says
to Thomas, says I, 'Mark my words, Thomas, Marilla
Cuthbert'll live to rue the step she's took. But I was
mistaken and I'm real glad of it. I ain't one of those
kind of people, Marilla, as can never be brought to
own up that they've made a mistake. No, that never
was my way, thank goodness. I did make a mistake
in judging Anne, but it weren't no wonder, for an
odder, unexpecteder witch of a child there never was
in this world, that's what. There was no ciphering
her out by the rules that worked with other children.
It's nothing short of wonderful how she's improved
these three years, but especially in looks. She's a real
pretty girl got to be, though I can't say I'm overly
partial to that pale, big-eyed style myself. I like more
snap and colour, like Diana Barry has or Ruby Gillis.
Ruby Gillis' looks are real showy. But somehow — I
don't know how it is but when Anne and them are to-
gether, though she ain't half as handsome, she makes
them look kind of common and overdone — something
like them white June lilies she calls narcissus alongside
of the big, red peonies, that's what"

CHAPTER XXXI

WHERE THE BROOK AND RIVER

ANNE had her "good" summer and enjoyed it
whole-heartedly. She and Diana fairly lived out-
doors, revelling in all the delights that Lovers'
Lane and the Dryad's Bubble and Willowmere and
Victoria Island afforded. Marilla offered no ob-
jections to Anne's gipsyings. The Spencervale doc-
tor who had come the night Minnie May had the
croup met Anne at the house of a patient one
afternoon early in vacation, looked her over sharply,
screwed up his mouth, shook his head, and sent a
message to Marilla Cuthbert by another person.
It was:

"Keep that red-headed girl of yours in the open
air all summer and don't let her read books until
she gets more spring into her step."

This message frightened Marilla wholesomely.
She read Anne's death warrant by consumption
in it unless it was scrupulously obeyed. As a
result, Anne had the golden summer of her life as
far as freedom and frolic went. She walked, rowed,
berried and dreamed to her heart's content; and
when September came she was bright-eyed and
alert, with a step that would have satisfied the
Spencervale doctor and a heart full of ambition
and zest once more.

319

320 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

"I feel just like studying with might and main,"
she declared as she brought her books down from
the attic. "Oh, you good old friends, I'm glad to
see your honest faces once more — yes, even you,
geometry. I've had a perfectly beautiful summer,
Marilla, and now I'm rejoicing as a strong man to
run a race, as Mr. Allan said last Sunday. Doesn't
Mr. Allan preach magnificent sermons? Mrs.
Lynde says he is improving every day and the
first thing we know some city church will gobble
him up and then we'll be left and have to turn to
and break in another green preacher. But I don't
see the use of meeting trouble half-way, do you,
Marilla? I think it would be better just to enjoy
Mr. Allan while we have him. If I were a man
I think I'd be a minister. They can have such
an influence for good, if their theology is sound;
and it must be thrilling to preach splendid sermons
and stir your hearers' hearts. Why can't women
be ministers, Marilla? I asked Mrs. Lynde that
and she was shocked and said it would be a scan-
dalous thing. She said there might be female
ministers in the States and she believed there was,
but thank goodness we hadn't got to that stage in
Canada yet and she hoped we never would. But I
don't see why. I think women would make splendid
ministers. When there is a social to be got up or
a church tea or anything else to raise money the
women have to turn to and do the work. I'm sure
Mrs. Lynde can pray every bit as well as Super-
intendent Bell and I've no doubt she could preach
too with a little practice."

WHERE BROOK AND RIVER MEET 321

"Yes, I believe she could," said Manilla drily.
"She does plenty of unofficial preaching as it is.
Nobody has much of a chance to go wrong in
Avonlea with Rachel to oversee them."

"Marilla," said Anne in a burst of confidence, "I
want to tell you something and ask you what you
think about it. It has worried me terribly — on
Sunday afternoons, that is, when I think specially
about such matters. I do really want to be good ;
and when I'm with you or Mrs. Allan or Miss Stacy
I want it more than ever and I want to do just
what would please you and what you would approve
of. But mostly when I'm with Mrs. Lynde I feel
desperately wicked and as if I wanted to go and
do the very thing she tells me I oughtn't to do.
I feel irresistibly tempted to do it. Now, what do
you think is the reason I feel like that? Do you
think it's because I'm really bad and unregener-
ate?"

Marilla looked dubious for a moment. Then she
laughed.

"If you are I guess I am too, Anne, for Rachel
often has that very effect on me. I sometimes think
she'd have more of an influence for good, as you say
yourself, if she didn't keep nagging people to do
right. There should have been a special command-
ment against nagging. But there, I shouldn't talk
so. Rachel is a good Christian woman and she
means well. There isn't a kinder soul in Avonlea
and she never shirks her share of work."

"I'm very glad you feel the same," said Anne
decidedly. "It's so encouraging. I sha'n't worry so

322 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

much over that after this. But I dare say there'll
be other things to worry me. They keep coming up
new all the time — things to perplex you, you know.
You settle one question and there's another right
after. There are so many things to be thought
over and decided when you're beginning to grow up.
It keeps me busy all the time thinking them over
and deciding what is right. It's a serious thing to
grow up, isn't it, Marilla? But when I have such
good friends as you and Matthew and Mrs. Allan
and Miss Stacy I ought to grow up successfully,
and I'm sure it will be my own fault if I don't.
I feel it's a great responsibility because I have only
the one chance. If I don't grow up right I can't
go back and begin over again. I've grown two
inches this summer, Marilla. Mr. Gillis measured
me at Ruby's party. I'm. so glad you made my
new dresses longer. That dark green one is so
pretty and it was sweet of you to put on the flounce.
Of course I know it wasn't really necessary, but
flounces are so stylish this fall and Josie Pye has
flounces on all her dresses. I know I'll be able
to study better because of mine. I shall have such
a comfortable feeling deep down in my mind about
that flounce."

"It's worth something to have that," admitted
Marilla.

Miss Stacy came back to Avonlea school and
found all her pupils eager for work once more. Es-
pecially did the Queen's class gird up their loins for
the fray, for at the end of the coming year, dimly
shadowing their pathway already, loomed up that

WHERE BROOK AND RIVER MEET 823

fateful thing known as "the Entrance," at the
thought of which one and all felt their hearts sink
into their very shoes. Suppose they did not pass!
That thought was doomed to haunt Anne through
the waking hours of that winter, Sunday afternoons
inclusive, to the almost entire exclusion of moral
and theological problems. When Anne had bad
dreams she found herself staring miserably at pass
lists of the Entrance exams, where Gilbert Blythe's
name was blazoned at the top and in which hers
did not appear at all.

But it was a jolly, busy, happy swift-flying winter,
School work was as interesting, class rivalry as ab»
sorbing, as of yore. New worlds of thought, feeling,
and ambition, fresh, fascinating fields of unexplored
knowledge seemed to be opening out before Anne's
eager eyes.

"Hills peeped o'er hill and Alps on Alps arose."

Much of all this was due to Miss Stacy's tactful,
careful, broad-minded guidance. She led her class
to think and explore and discover for themselves
and encouraged straying from the old beaten paths
to a degree that quite shocked Mrs. Lynde and the
school trustees, who viewed all innovations on es-
tablished methods rather dubiously.

Apart from her studies Anne expanded socially,
for Marilla, mindful of the Spencervale doctor's
dictum, no longer vetoed occasional outings. The
Debating Club flourished and gave several concerts;
there were one or two parties almost verging on

824 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

grown-up affairs ; there were sleigh drives and skat-
ing frolics galore.

Between times Anne grew, shooting up so rapidly
that Marilla was astonished one day, when they
were standing side by side, to find the girl was
taller than herself.

"Why, Anne, how you've grown!" she said, al-
most unbelievingly. A sigh followed on the words.
Marilla felt a queer regret over Anne's inches. The
child she had learned to love had vanished somehow
and here was this tall, serious-eyed girl of fifteen,
with the thoughtful brows and the proudly poised
little head, in her place. Marilla loved the girl as
much as she had loved the child, but she was con-
scious of a queer sorrowful sense of loss. And that
night when Anne had gone to prayer-meeting with
Diana Marilla sat alone in the wintry twilight and
indulged in the weakness of a cry. Matthew, com-
ing in with a lantern, caught her at it and gazed at
her in such consternation that Marilla had to laugh
through her tears.

"I was thinking about Anne," she explained.
"She's got to be such a big girl — and she'll probably
be away from us next winter. I'll miss her terrible."

"She'll be able to come home often," comforted
Matthew, to whom Anne was as yet and always
would be the little, eager girl he had brought home
from Bright River on that June evening four years
before. "The branch railroad will be built to Car-
mody by that time."

"It won't be the same thing as having her here
all the time," sighed Marilla gloomily, determined

WHERE BROOK AND RIVER MEET 825

to enjoy her luxury of grief tmcomforted. "But
there — men can't understand these things!"

There were other changes in Anne no less real
than the physical change. For one thing, she be-
came much quieter. Perhaps she thought all the
more and dreamed as much as ever, but she cer-
tainly talked less. Manila noticed and commented
on this also.

"You don't chatter half as much as you used to,
Anne, nor use half as many big words. What has
come over you?"

Anne coloured and laughed a little, as she
dropped her book and looked dreamily out of the
window, where big fat red buds were bursting out
on the creeper in response to the lure of the spring
sunshine.

"I don't know — I don't want to talk as much,"
she said, denting her chin thoughtfully with her
fore-finger. "It's nicer to think dear, pretty
thoughts and keep them in one's heart, like treas-
ures. I don't like to have them laughed at or
wondered over. And somehow I don't want to use
big words any more. It's almost a pity, isn't it,
now that I'm really growing big enough to say
them if I did want to. It's fun to be almost grown
up in some ways, but it's not the kind of fun ft
expected, Marilla. There's so much to learn and
do and think that there isn't time for big words.
Besides, Miss Stacy says the short ones are much
stronger and better. She makes us write all our
essays as simply as possible. It was hard at first.
I was so used to crowding in all the fine big words

326 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

I could think of — and I thought of any number of
them. But I've got used to it now and I see it's
so much better."

"What has become of your story club? I haven't
heard you speak of it for a long time."

"The story club isn't in existence any longer.
We hadn't time for it — and anyhow I think we had
got tired of it. It was silly to be writing about
love and murder and elopements and mysteries.
Miss Stacy sometimes has us write a story for
training in composition, but she won't let us write
anything but what might happen in Avonlea in our
own lives, and she criticizes it very sharply and
makes us criticize our own too. I never thought
my compositions had so many faults until I began
to look for them myself. I felt so ashamed I wanted
to give up altogether, but Miss Stacy said I could
learn to write well if I only trained myself to be
my own severest critic. And so I am trying to."

"You've only two more months before the En-
trance," said Marilla. "Do you think you'll be
able to get through?"

Anne shivered.

"I don't know. Sometimes I think I'll be all
right — and then I get horribly afraid. We've stud-
ied hard and Miss Stacy has drilled us thoroughly,
but we mayn't get through for all that. We've each
got a stumbling-block. Mine is geometry of course,
and Jane's is Latin and Ruby's and Charlie's is
algebra and Josie's is arithmetic. Moody Spurgeon
says he feels it in his bones that he is going to fail
in English history. Miss Stacy is going to give us

WHERE BROOK AND RIVER MEET 327

examinations in June just as hard as we'll have at
the Entrance and mark us just as strictly, so we'll
have some idea. I wish it was all over, Marilla.
It haunts me. Sometimes I wake up in the night
and wonder what I'll do if I don't pass."

"Why, go to school next year ane try again/'
said Marilla unconcernedly.

"Oh, I don't believe I'd have the heart for it. It
would be such a disgrace to fail, especially if Gil — if
the others passed. And I get so nervous in an
examination that I'm likely to make a mess of it.
I wish I had nerves like Jane Andrews. Nothing
rattles her."

Anne sighed and, dragging her eyes from the
witcheries of the spring world, the beckoning day
of breeze and blue, and the green things upspring^
ing in the garden, buried herself resolutely in her
book. There would be other springs, but if she did
not succeed in passing the Entrance Anne felt con-
vinced that she would never recover sufficiently to
enjoy them.

THE PASS LIST IS OUT

WITH the end of June came the close of the term
and the close of Miss Stacy's rule in Avonlea school.
Anne and Diana walked home that evening feeling
very sober indeed. Red eyes and damp handker-
chiefs bore convincing testimony to the fact that
Miss Stacy's farewell words must have been quite
as touching as Mr. Phillips' had been under similar
circumstances three years before. Diana looked
back at the school-house from the foot of the spruce
hill and sighed deeply.

"It does seem as if it was the end of everything,
doesn't it?" she said dismally.

"You oughtn't to feel half as badly as I do," said
Anne, hunting vainly for a dry spot on her hand-
kerchief. "You'll be back again next winter, but
I suppose I've left the dear old school for ever — if
I have good luck, that is."

"It won't be a bit the same. Miss Stacy won't be
there, nor you nor Jane nor Ruby probably. I shall
have to sit all alone, for I couldn't bear to have
another deskmate after you. Oh, we have had jolly
times, haven't we, Anne? It's dreadful to think
they're all over."

Two big tears rolled down by Diana's nose.

328

THE PASS LIST IS OUT 329

"If you would stop crying I could," said Anne
imploringly. "Just as soon as I put away my hanky
I see you brimming up and that starts me off again.
As Mrs. Lynde says, 'If you can't be cheerful, be as
cheerful as you can.' After all, I dare say I'll be
back next year. This is one of the times I know
I'm not going to pass. They're getting alarmingly
frequent."

"Why, you came out splendidly in the exams
Miss Stacy gave."

"Yes, but those exams didn't make me nervous.
When I think of the real thing you can't imagine
what a horrid cold fluttery feeling comes round my
heart. And then my number is thirteen and Josie
Pye says it's so unlucky. I am not superstitious and
I know it can make no difference. But still I wish
it wasn't thirteen."

"I do wish I were going in with you," said Diana.
"Wouldn't we have a perfectly elegant time? But
I suppose you'll have to cram in the evenings."

"No ; Miss Stacy has made us promise not to open
a book at all. She says it would only tire and con-
fuse us and we are to go out walking and not think
about the exams at all and go to bed early. It's
good advice, but I expect it will be hard to follow ;
good advice is apt to be, I think. Prissy Andrews
told me that she sat up half the night every night
of her Entrance week and crammed for dear life;
and I had determined to sit up at least as long as
she did. It was so kind of your Aunt Josephine to
ask me to stay at Beechwood while I'm in town."

"You'll write to me while you're in, won't you?"

330 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

"I'll write Tuesday night and tell you how the
first day goes," promised Anne.

"I'll be haunting the post-office Wednesday,"
vowed Diana.

Anne went to town the following Monday and on
Wednesday Diana haunted the post-office, as
agreed, and got her letter.

"Dearest Diana," wrote Anne, "here it is Tues-
day night and I'm writing this in the library at
Beechwood. Last night I was horribly lonesome
all alone in my room and wished so much you were
with me. I couldn't 'cram' because I'd promised
Miss Stacy not to, but it was as hard to keep from
opening my history as it used to be to keep from
heading a story before my lessons were learned.

"This morning Miss Stacy came for me and we
went to the Academy, calling for Jane and Ruby and
Josie on our way. Ruby asked me to feel her hands
and they were as cold as ice. Josie said I looked as
if I hadn't slept a wink and she didn't believe I was
strong enough to stand the grind of the teacher's
course even if I did get through. There are times
and seasons even yet when I don't feel that I've
made any great headway in learning to like Josie
Pye!

"When we reached the Academy there were
scores of students there from all over the Island.
The first person we saw was Moody Spurgeon
sitting on the steps and muttering away to himself.
Jane asked him what on earth he was doing and he
said he was repeating the multiplication table over
and over to steady his nerves and for pity's sake

THE PASS LIST IS OUT 331

not to interrupt him, because if he stopped for a
moment he got frightened and forgot everything
he ever knew, but the multiplication table kept all
his facts firmly in their proper place!

"When we were assigned to our rooms Miss
Stacy had to leave us. Jane and I sat together and
Jane was so composed that I envied her. No need
of the multiplication table for good, steady, sensible
Jane! I wondered if I looked as I felt and if they
could hear my heart thumping clear across the
room. Then a man came in and began distributing
the English examination sheets. My hands grew
cold then and my head fairly whirled around as I
picked it up. Just one awful moment, — Diana, I
felt exactly as I did four years ago when I asked
Marilla if I might stay at Green Gables — and then
everything cleared up in mind and my heart began
beating again — I forgot to say that it had stopped
altogether ! — for I knew I could do something with
that paper anyhow.

"At noon we went home for dinner and then back
again for history in the afternoon. The history was
a pretty hard paper and I got dreadfully mixed up
in the dates. Still, I think I did fairly well to-day.
But oh, Diana, to-morrow the geometry exam
comes off and when I think of it it takes every bit
of determination I possess to keep from opening my
Euclid. If I thought the multiplication table would
help me any I would recite it from now till to-
morrow morning.

"I went down to see the other girls this evening.
On my way I met Moody Spurgeon wandering dis-

ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

tractedly around. He said he knew he had failed in
history and he was born to be a disappointment to
his parents and he was going home on the morning
train ; and it would be easier to be a carpenter than
a minister, anyhow. I cheered him up and per-
suaded him to stay to the end because it would be
unfair to Miss Stacy rf he didn't. Sometimes I have
wished I was born a boy, but when I see Moody
Spurgeon I'm always glad I'm a girl and not his
sister.

"Ruby was in hysterics when I reached their
boarding-house; she bad just discovered a fearful
mistake she had made in her English paper. When
she recovered we went up-town and had an ice-
cream. How we wished you had been with us.

"Oh, Diana, if only the geometry examination
were over! But there, as Mrs. Lynde would say,
the sun will go on rising and setting whether I
fail in geometry or not. That is true but not es-
pecially comforting. I think I'd rather it didn't go
on if I failed!

"Yours devotedly,
"ANNE."

The geometry examination and all the others
were over in due time and Anne arrived home on
Friday evening, rather tired but with an air of
chastened triumph about her. Diana was over at
Green Gables when she arrived and they met as
if they had been parted for years.

"You old darling, it's perfectly splendid to see
you back again. It seems like an age since you

THE PASS LIST IS OUT 333

went to town and oh, Anne, how did you get
along?"

"Pretty well, I think, in everything but the ge-
ometry. I don't know whether I passed in it or
not and I have a creepy, crawly presentiment that
I didn't. Oh, how good it is to be back! Green
Gables is the dearest, loveliest spot in the world."

"How did the others do?"

"The girls say they know they didn't pass, but I
think they did pretty well. Josie says the geometry
was so easy a child of ten could do it! Moody
Spurgeon still thinks he failed in history and Charlie
says he failed in algebra. But we don't really know
anything about it and won't until the pass list is
out. That won't be for a fortnight. Fancy living a
fortnight in such suspense ! I wish I could go to
sleep and never wake up until it is over."

Diana knew it would be useless to ask how Gil-
bert Blythe had fared, so she merely said:

"Oh, you'll pass all right. Don't worry."

"I'd rather not pass at all than not come out
pretty well up on the list," flashed Anne, by which
she meant — and Diana knew she meant — that
success would be incomplete and bitter if she did
not come out ahead of Gilbert Blythe.

With this end in view Anne had strained every
nerve during the examinations. So had Gilbert.
They had met and passed each other on the street
a dozen times without any sign of recognition and
every time Anne had held her head a little higher
and wished a little more earnestly that she had
made friends with Gilbert when he asked her, and

884 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

vowed a little more determinedly to surpass him in
the examination. She knew that all Avonlea junior
was wondering which would come out first; she
even knew that Jimmy Glover and Ned Wright had
a bet on the question and that Josie Pye had said
there was no doubt in the world that Gilbert would
be first ; and she felt that her humiliation would be
unbearable if she failed.

But she had another and nobler motive for wish-
ing to do well. She wanted to "pass high" for the
sake of Matthew and Marilla— especially Matthew.
Matthew had declared to her his conviction that
she "would beat the whole Island." That, Anne
felt, was something it would be foolish to hope for
even in the wildest dreams. But she did hope fer-
vently that she would be among the first ten at
least, so that she might see Matthew's kindly brown
eyes gleam with pride in her achievement. That,
she felt, would be a sweet reward indeed for all her
hard work and patient grubbing among unimagi-
native equations and conjugations.

At the end of the fortnight Anne took to "haunt-
ing" the post-office also, in the distracted company
of Jane, Ruby and Josie, opening the Charlottetown
dailies with shaking hands and cold, sinkaway feel-
ings as bad as any experienced during the Entrance
week. Charlie and Gilbert were not above doing
this too, but Moody Spurgeon stayed resolutely
away.

"I haven't got the grit to go there and look at
a paper in cold blood," he told Anne. "I'm just

THE PASS LIST IS OUT 335

going to wait until somebody comes and tells me
suddenly whether I've passed or not."

When three weeks had gone by without the pass
list appearing Anne began to feel that she really
couldn't stand the strain much longer. Her appetite
failed and her interest in Avonlea doings lan-
guished. Mrs. Lynde wanted to know what else
you could expect with a Tory superintendent of
education at the head of affairs, and Matthew,
noting Anne's paleness and indifference and the
lagging steps that bore her home from the post-
office every afternoon, began seriously to wonder
if he hadn't better vote Grit at the next election.

But one evening the news came. Anne was sit-
ting at her open window, for the time forgetful of
the woes of examinations and the cares of the
world, as she drank in the beauty of the summer
dusk, sweet-scented with flower-breaths from the
garden below and sibilant and rustling from the
stir of poplars. The eastern sky above the firs was
flushed faintly pink from the reflection of the west,
and Anne was wondering dreamily if the spirit of
colour looked like that, when she saw Diana come
flying down through the firs, over the log bridge,
and up the slope, with a fluttering newspaper in
her hand.

Anne sprang to her feet, knowing at once what
that paper contained. The pass list was out ! Her
head whirled and her heart beat until it hurt her.
She could not move a step. It seemed an hour to
her before Diana came rushing along the hall and

386 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

burst into the room without even knocking, so great
was her excitement.

"Anne, you've passed," she cried, "passed the
very first — you and Gilbert both — you're ties — but
your name is first. Oh, I'm so proud 1"

Diana flung the paper on the table and herself on
Anne's bed, utterly breathless and incapable of
further speech. Anne lighted the lamp, oversetting
the match-safe and using up half a dozen matches
before her shaking hands could accomplish the task.
Then she snatched up the paper. Yes, she had
passed — there was her name at the very top of a
list of two hundred! That moment wsts worth liv-
ing for.

"You did just splendidly, Anne," puffed Diana,
recovering sufficiently to sit up and speak, for Anne,
starry-eyed and rapt, had not uttered a word.
"Father brought the paper home from Bright River
not ten minutes ago — it came out on the afternoon
train, you know, and won't be here till to-morrow
by mail — and when I saw the pass list I just rushed
over like a wild thing. You've all passed, every
one of you, Moody Spurgeon and all, although he's
conditioned in history. Jane and Ruby did pretty
well — they're half-way up — and so did Charlie.
Josie just scraped through with three marks to
spare, but you'll see she'll put on as many airs as
if she'd led. Won't Miss Stacy be delighted? Oh,
Anne, what does it feel like to see your name at
the head of a pass list like that? If it were me I
know I'd go crazy with joy. I am pretty near crazy

THE PASS LIST IS OUT 3375

as it is, but you're as calm and cool as a spring
evening."

"I'm just dazzled inside," said Anne. "I want
to say a hundred things, and I can't find words to
say them in. I never dreamed of this — yes, I did,
too, just once! I let myself think onr.gt 'What if
I should come out first?' quakingly, you know, for
it seemed so vain and presumptuous to think I could
lead the Island. Excuse me a minute, Diana. I
must run right out to the field to tell Matthew.
Then we'll go up the road and tell the good news
to the others."

They hurried to the hayfield below the barn
where Matthew was coiling hay, and, as luck would
have it, Mrs. Lynde was talking to Marilla at the
lane fence.

"Oh, Matthew," exclaimed Anne, "I've passed
and I'm first — or one of the first ! I'm not vain, but
I'm thankful."

"Well now, I always said it," said Matthew, gaz-
ing at the pass list delightedly. "I knew you could
beat them all easy."

"You've done pretty well, I must say, Anne,"
said Marilla, trying to hide her extreme pride in
Anne from Mrs. Rachel's critical eye. But that
good soul said heartily:

"I just guess she has done well, and far be it from
me to be backward in saying it. You're a credit to
your friends, Anne, that's what, and we'll all proud'
of you."

That night Anne, who had wound up a delightful
evening by a serious little talk with Mrs. Allan at

838 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

the manse, knelt sweetly by her open window in a
great sheen of moonshine and murmured a prayer
of gratitude and aspiration that came straight from
her heart. There was in it thankfulness for the
past and reverent petition for the future ; and when
she slept on her white pillow her dreams were as
fair and bright and beautiful as maidenhood might
desire.

CHAPTER XXXIir

THE HOTEL CONCERT

"Pur on your white organdy, by all means, Anne/'
advised Diana decidedly.

They were together in the east gable chamber;
outside it was only twilight — a lovely yellowish-
green twilight with a clear blue cloudless sky. A
big round moon, slowly deepening from her pallid
lustre into burnished silver, hung over the Haunted
Wood ; the air was full of sweet summer sounds —
sleepy birds twittering, freakish breezes, far-away
voices and laughter. But in Anne's room the blind
was drawn and the lamp lighted, for an important
toilet was being made.

The east gable was a very different place from
what it had been on that night four years before,
when Anne had felt its bareness penetrate to the
marrow of her spirit with its inhospitable chill.
Changes had crept in, Marilla conniving at them re-
signedly, until it was as sweet and dainty a nest as
a young girl could desire.

The velvet carpet with the pink roses and the
pink silk curtains of Anne's early visions had cer-
tainly never materialized; but her dreams had kept
pace with her growth, and it is not probable she
lamented them. The floor was covered with a

389

84.0 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

pretty matting, and the curtains that softened the
high window and fluttered in the vagrant breezes
were of pale green art muslin. The walls, hung not
with gold and silver brocade tapestry, but with a
dainty apple-blossom paper, were adorned with a
few good pictures given Anne by Mrs. Allan. Miss
Stacy's photograph occupied the place of honour,
and Anne made a sentimental point of keeping fresh
flowers on the bracket under it. To-night a spike
of white lilies faintly perfumed the room like the
dream of a fragrance. There was no "mahogany
furniture," but there was a white-painted bookcase
filled with books, a cushioned wicker rocker, a
toilet-table befrilled with white muslin, a quaint,
gilt-framed mirror with chubby pink cupids and
purple grapes painted over its arched top, that used
to hang in the spare room, and a low white bed.

Anne was dressing for a concert at the White
Sands Hotel. The guests had got it up in aid of
the Charlottetown hospital, and had hunted out all
the available amateur talent in the surrounding
districts to help it along. Bertha Sampson and
Pearl Clay of the White Sands Baptist choir had
been asked to sing a duet; Milton Clark of New-
bridge was to give a violin solo; Winnie Adella
Blair of Carmody was to sing a Scotch ballad ; and
Laura Spencer of Spencervale and Anne Shirley of
Avonlea were to recite.

As Anne would have said at one time, it was "an
epoch in her life," and she was deliciously athrill
with the excitement of it. Matthew was in the
seventh heaven of gratified pride over the honour

THE HOTEL CONCERT 341

conferred on his Anne, and Marilla was not far be-
hind, although she would have died rather than
admit it, and said she didn't think it was very proper
for a lot of young folks to be gadding over to the
hotel without any responsible person with them.

Anne and Diana were to drive over with Jane
Andrews and her brother Billy in their double-
seated buggy; and several other Avonlea girls and
boys were going, too. There was a party of visitors
expected out from town, and after the concert a
supper was to be given to the performers.

"Do you really think the organdy will be best ?"
queried Anne anxiously. "I don't think it's as
pretty as my blue-flowered muslin — and it certainly
isn't so fashionable."

"But it suits you ever so much better," said
Diana. "It's so soft and frilly and clinging. The
muslin is stiff, and makes you look too dressed up.
But the organdy seems as if it grew on you."

Anne sighed and yielded. Diana was beginning
to have a reputation for notable taste in dressing,
and her advice on such subjects was much sought
after. She was looking very pretty herself on this
particular night in a dress of the lovely wild-rose
pink, from which Anne was for ever debarred ; but
she was not to take any part in the concert, so her
appearance was of minor importance. All her
pains were bestowed upon Anne, who, she vowed,
must, for the credit of Avonlea, be dressed and
combed and adorned to the queen's taste.

"Pull out that frill a little more— so; here, let
me tie your sash ; now for your slippers. I'm going

342 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

to braid your hair in two thick braids, and tie them
half-way up with big white bows — no, don't pull
out a single curl over your forehead — just have the
soft part. There is no way you do your hair suits
you so well, Anne, and Mrs. Allan says you look
like a Madonna when you part it so. I shall fasten
this little white house rose just behind your ear.
There was just one on my bush, and I saved it for
you."

"Shall I put my pearl beads on?" asked Anne.
"Matthew brought me a string from town last week,
and I know he'd like to see them on me."

Diana pursed up her lips, put her black head on
one side critically, and finally pronounced in favour
of the beads, which were thereupon tied around
Anne's slim milk-white throat.

"There's something so stylish about you, Anne,"
said Diana, with unenvious admiration. "You hold
your head with such an air. I suppose it's your fig-
ure. I am just a dumpling. I've always been
afraid of it, and now I know it is so. Well, I sup-
pose I shall just have to resign myself to it."

"But you have such dimples," said Anne, smiling
affectionately into the pretty, vivacious face so near
her own. "Lovely dimples, like little dents in
cream. I have given up all hope of dimples. My
dimple-dream will never come true ; but so many of
my dreams have that I mustn't complain. Am I all
ready now ?"

"All ready," assured Diana, as Marilla appeared
in the doorway, a gaunt figure with grayer hair than
of yore and no fewer angles, but with a much softer

THE HOTEL CONCERT 343

face. "Come right in and look at our elocutionist,
Marilla. Doesn't she look lovely?"

Marilla emitted a sound between a sniff and a
grunt.

"She looks neat and proper. I like that way of
fixing her hair. But I expect she'll ruin that dress
driving over there in the dust and dew with it, and
it looks most too thin for these damp nights. Or-
gandy's the most unserviceable stuff in the world
anyhow, and I told Matthew so when he got it.
But there is no use in saying anything to Matthew
nowadays. Time was when he would take my ad-
vice, but now he just buys things for Anne regard-
less, and the clerks at Carmody know they can palm
anything off on him. Just let them tell him a thing
is pretty and fashionable, and Matthew plunks his
money down for it. Mind you keep your skirt
clear of the wheel, Anne, and put your warm jacket
on."

Then Marilla stalked down-stairs, thinking
proudly how sweet Anne looked, with that

"One moonbeam from the forehead to the crown"

and regretting that she could not go to the concert
herself to hear her girl recite.

"I wonder if it is too damp for my dress," said
Anne anxiously.

"Not a bit of it," said Diana, pulling up the
window blind. "It's a perfect night, and there
won't be any dew. Look at the moonlight."

"I'm so glad my window looks east into the sun-

344 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

rising," said Anne, going over to Diana. "It's so
splendid to see the morning coming up over those
long hills and glowing through those sharp fir tops.
It's new every morning, and I feel as if I washed
my very soul in that bath of earliest sunshine. Oh,
Diana, I love this little room so dearly. I don't
know how I'll get along without it when I go to
town next month."

"Don't speak of your going away to-night,"
begged Diana. "I don't want to think of it, it
makes me so miserable, and I do want to have a
good time this evening. What are you going to
recite, Anne? And are you nervous?"

"Not a bit. I've recited so often in public I don't
mind at all now. I've decided to give 'The
Maiden's Vow.' It's so pathetic. Laura Spencer
is going to give a comic recitation, but I'd rather
make people cry than laugh."

"What will you recite if they encore you?'*

"They won't dream of encoring me," scoffed
Anne, who was not without her own secret hopes
that they would, and already visioned herself telling
Matthew all about it at the next morning's break-
fast-table. "There are Billy and Jane now — I hear
the wheels. Come on."

Billy Andrews insisted that Anne should ride on
the front seat with him, so she unwillingly climbed
up. She would have much preferred to sit back
with the girls, where she could have laughed and
chattered to her heart's content. There was not
much of either laughter or chatter in Billy. He was
a big, fat, stolid youth of twenty, with a round, ex^

THE HOTEL CONCERT

pressionless face, and a painful lack of conversa-
tional gifts. But he admired Anne immensely, and
was puffed up with pride over the prospect of
driving to White Sands with that slim, upright
figure beside him.

Anne, by dint of talking over her shoulder to the
girls and occasionally passing a sop of civility to
Billy — who grinned and chuckled and never could
think of any reply until it was too late — contrived
to enjoy the drive in spite of all. It was a night
lor enjoyment. The road was full of buggies, all
bound for the hotel, and laughter, silver-clear,
echoed and re-echoed along it. When they reached
the hotel it was a blaze of light from top to bottom.
They were met by the ladies of the concert com-
mittee, one of whom took Anne off to the per-
formers' dressing room, which was filled with the
members of a Charlottetown Symphony Club,
among whom Anne felt suddenly shy and frightened
and countrified. Her dress, which, in the east
gable, had seemed so dainty and pretty, now seemed
simple and plain — too simple and plain, she thought,
among all the silks and laces that glistened and
rustled around her. What were her pearl beads
compared to the diamonds of the big, handsome
lady near her? And how poor her one wee white
rose must look beside all the hot-house flowers the
others wore ! Anne laid her hat and jacket away,
and shrank miserably into a corner. She wished
herself back in the white room at Green Gables.

It was still worse on the platform of the big con-
cert hall of the hotel, where she presently found

346 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

herself. The electric lights dazzled her eyes, the
perfume and hum bewildered her. She wished she
were sitting down in the audience with Diana and
Jane, who seemed to be having a splendid time
away at the back. She was wedged in between a
stout lady in pink silk and a tall, scornful looking
girl in a white lace dress. The stout lady occa-
sionally turned her head squarely around and
surveyed Anne through her eyeglasses until Anne,
acutely sensitive of being so scrutinized, felt that
she must scream aloud ; and the white lace girl kept
talking audibly to her next neighbour about the
"country bumpkins" and "rustic belles" in the
audience, languidly anticipating "such fun" from
the displays of local talent on the programme.
Anne believed that she would hate that white lace
girl to the end of life.

Unfortunately for Anne, a professional elocution-
ist was staying at the hotel and had consented to
recite. She was a lithe, dark-eyed woman in a
wonderful gown of shimmering gray stuff like
woven moonbeams, with gems on her neck and in
her dark hair. She had a marvellously flexible
voice and wonderful power of expression ; the audi-
ence went wild over her selection. Anne, forget-
ting all about herself and her troubles for the time,
listened with rapt and shining eyes; but when the
recitation ended she suddenly put her hands over
her face. She could never get up and recite after
that — never. Had she ever thought she could re-
cite? Oh, if she were only back at Green Gables!

At this unpropitious moment her name was

THE HOTEL CONCERT 847

called. Somehow, Anne — who did not notice the
rather guilty little start of surprise the white lace
girl gave, and would not have understood the subtle
compliment implied therein if she had — got on her
feet, and moved dizzily out to the front. She was
so pale that Diana and Jane, down in the audience,
clasped each other's hands in nervous sympathy.

Anne was the victim of an overwhelming attack
of stage fright. Often as she had recited in public,
she had never before faced such an audience as
this, and the sight of it paralyzed her energies com-
pletely. Everything was so strange, so brilliant,
so bewildering — the rows of ladies in evening dress,
the critical faces, the whole atmosphere of wealth
and culture about her. Very different this from
the plain benches at the Debating Club, filled with
the homely, sympathetic faces of friends and neigh-
bours. These people, she thought, would be merci-
less critics. Perhaps, like the white lace girl, they
anticipated amusement from her "rustic" efforts.
She felt hopelessly, helplessly ashamed and miser-
able. Her knees trembled, her heart fluttered, a
horrible faintness came over her; not a word could
she utter, and the next moment she would have fled
from the platform despite the humiliation which,
she felt, must ever after be her portion if she did so.

But suddenly, as her dilated, frightened eyes
gazed out over the audience, she saw Gilbert Blythe
away at the back of the room, bending forward
with a smile on his face— a smile which seemed to
Anne at once triumphant and taunting. In reality
it was nothing of the kind. Gilbert was merely

348 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

smiling with appreciation of the whole affair in
general and of the effect produced by Anne's slender
white form and spiritual face against a background
of palms in particular. Josie Pye, whom he had
driven over, sat beside him, and her face certainly
was both triumphant and taunting. But Anne did
not see Josie, and would not have cared if she had.
She drew a long breath and flung her head up
proudly, courage and determination tingling over
her like an electric shock. She would not fail be-
fore Gilbert Blythe — he should never be able to
laugh at her, never, never! Her fright and nerv-
ousness vanished; and she began her recitation, her
clear, sweet voice reaching to the farthest corner
of the room without a tremor or a break. Self-
possession was fully restored to her, and in the re-
action from that horrible moment of powerlessness
she recited as she had never done before. When
she finished there were bursts of honest applause.
Anne, stepping back to her seat, blushing with shy-
ness and delight, found her hand vigorously clasped
and shaken by the stout lady in pink silk.

"My dear, you did splendidly," she puffed. "I've
been crying like a baby, actually I have. There,
they're encoring you — they're bound to have you
back!"

"Oh, I can't go," said Anne confusedly. "But
yet — I must, or Matthew will be disappointed. He
said they would encore me."

"Then don't disappoint Matthew," said the pink
lady, laughing.

Smiling, blushing, limpid-eyed, Anne tripped

THE HOTEL CONCERT d49

back and gave a quaint, funny little selection that
captivated her audience still further. The rest of
the evening was quite a little triumph for her.

When the concert was over, the stout, pink lady
— who was the wife of an American millionaire — •
took her under her wing, and introduced her to
everybody; and everybody was very nice to her.
The professional elocutionist, Mrs. Evans, came and
chatted with her, telling her that she had a charm-
ing voice and "interpreted" her selections beauti-
fully. Even the white lace girl paid her a languid
little compliment. They had supper in the big,
beautifully decorated dining-room ; Diana and Jane
were invited to partake of this, also, since they had
come with Anne, but Billy was nowhere to be
found, having decamped in mortal fear of some such
invitation. He was in waiting for them, with the
team, however, when it was all over, and the three
girls came merrily out into the calm, white moon-
shine radiance. Anne breathed deeply, and looked
into the clear sky beyond the dark boughs of the
firs.

Oh, it was good to be out again in the purity and
silence of the night ! How great and still and won-
derful everything was, with the murmur of the sea
sounding through it and the darkling cliffs beyond
like grim giants guarding enchanted coasts.

"Hasn't it been a perfectly splendid time?" sighed
Jane, as they drove away. "I just wish I was a
rich American and could spend my summer at a
hotel and wear jewels and low-necked dresses and
have ice-cream and chicken salad every blessed day.

850 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

I'm sure it would be ever so much more fun than
teaching school. Anne, your recitation was simply
great, although I thought at first you were never
going to begin. I think it was better than Mrs.
Evans'."

"Oh, no, don't say things like that, Jane," said
Anne quickly, "because it sounds silly. It couldn't
be better than Mrs. Evans', you know, for she is
a professional, and I'm only a schoolgirl with a little
knack of reciting. I'm quite satisfied if the people
just liked mine pretty well."

"I've a compliment for you, Anne," said Diana.
"At least I think it must be a compliment because
of the tone he said it in. Part of it was anyhow.
There was an American sitting behind Jane and me
—such a romantic-looking man, with coal-black
hair and eyes. Josie Pye says he is a distinguished
artist, and that her mother's cousin in Boston is
married to a man that used to go to school with
him. Well, we heard him say — didn't we, Jane ? —
'Who is that girl on the platform with the splendid
Titian hair? She has a face I should like to paint.'
There now, Anne. But what does Titian hair
mean?"

"Being interpreted it means plain red, I guess,"
laughed Anne. "Titian was a very famous artist
who liked to paint red-haired women."

"Did you see all the diamonds those ladies wore ?"
sighed Jane. "They were simply dazzling.
Wouldn't you just love to be rich, girls?"

"We are rich," said Anne stanchly. "Why, we
have sixteen years to our credit, and we're happy as

THE HOTEL CONCERT 351

queens, and we've all got imaginations, more or
less. Look at that sea, girls — all silver and shadow
and vision of things not seen. We couldn't enjoy
its loveliness any more if we had millions of dollars
and ropes of diamonds. You wouldn't change into
any of those women if you could. Would you want
to be that white lace girl and wear a sour look all
your life, as if you'd been born turning up your nose
at the world? Or the pink lady, kind and nice as
she is, so stout and short that you'd really no figure
at all ? Or even Mrs. Evans, with that sad, sad look
in her eyes? She must have been dreadfully un-
happy sometime to have such a look. You know
you wouldn't, Jane Andrews !"

"I don't know — exactly," said Jane unconvinced.
"I think diamonds would comfort a person for a
good deal."

"Well, I don't want to be any one but myself,
even if I go uncomforted by diamonds all my life,"
declared Anne. "I'm quite content to be Anne of
Green Gables, with my string of pearl beads. I
know Matthew gave me as much love with them as
ever went with Madame the Pink Lady's jewels."

CHAPTER XXXIV
A QUEEN'S GIRL

THE next three weeks were busy ones at Green
Gables, for Anne was getting ready to go to
Queen's, and there was much sewing to be done,
and many things to be talked over and arranged.
Anne's outfit was ample and pretty, for Matthew
saw to that, and Marilla for once made no objec-
tions whatever to anything he purchased or sug-
gested. More — one evening she went up to the
east gable with her arms full of a delicate pale green
material.

"Anne, here's something for a nice light dress
for you. I don't suppose you really need it ; you've
plenty of pretty waists ; but I thought maybe you'd
like something real dressy to wear if you were asked
out anywhere of an evening in town, to a party or
anything like that. I hear that Jane and Ruby and
Josie have got 'evening dresses,' as they call them,
and I don't mean you shall be behind them. I got
Mrs. Allan to help me pick it in town last week,
and we'll get Emily Gillis to make it for you. Emily
has got taste, and her fits aren't to be equalled."

"Oh, Marilla, it's just lovely," said Anne.
"Thank you so much. I don't believe you ought to
be so kind to me — it's making it harder every day
for me to go away."

362

A QUEEN'S GIRL

The green dress was made up with as many tucks
fnlls and shirrings as Emily's taste permitted
Anne put it on one evening for Matthew's and Ma-
illa s benefit, and recited "The Maiden's Vow" for
them m the kitchen. As Marilla watched the
bright, animated face and graceful motions her
thoughts went back to the evening Anne had ar-
rived at Green Gables, and memory recalled a vivid
picture of the odd, frightened child in her prepos-
terous yellowish-brown wincey dress, the heart-
break looking out of her tearful eyes. Something
in the memory brought tears to Manila's own eyes.
"I declare, my recitation has made you cry, Ma-
rilla," said Anne gaily, stooping over Manila's chair
to drop a butterfly kiss on that lady's cheek. "Now,
I call that a positive triumph."

"No, I wasn't crying over your piece," said Ma-
rilla, who would have scorned to be betrayed into
such weakness by any "poetry stuff." "I just
couldn't help thinking of the little girl you used to
be, Anne. And I was wishing you could have
stayed a little girl, even with all your queer ways.
You're grown up now and you're going away ; and
you look so tall and stylish and so — so — different
altogether in that dress — as if you didn't belong in
Avonlea at all — and I just got lonesome thinking
it all over."

"Marilla !" Anne sat down on Manila's gingham
lap, took Manila's lined face between her hands,
and looked gravely and tenderly into Manila's eyes.
"I'm not a bit changed — not really. I'm only just
pruned down and branched out. The real me — back

854 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

here — is just the same. It won't make a bit of
difference where I go or how much I change out-
wardly; at heart I shall always be your little Anne,
who will love you and Matthew and dear Green
Gables more and better every day of her life."

Anne laid her fresh young cheek against Manila's
faded one, and reached out a hand to pat Matthew's
shoulder. Marilla would have given much just then
to have possessed Anne's power of putting her feel-
ings into words ; but nature and habit had willed it
otherwise, and she could only put her arms close
about her girl and hold her tenderly to her heart,
wishing that she need never let her go.

Matthew, with a suspicious moisture in his eyes,
got up and went out-of-doors. Under the stars of
the blue summer night he walked agitatedly across
the yard to the gate under the poplars.

"Well now, I guess she ain't been much spoiled,"
he muttered, proudly. "I guess my putting in my
oar occasional never did much harm after all. She's
smart and pretty, and loving, too, which is better
than all the rest. She's been a blessing to us, and
there never was a luckier mistake than what Mrs.
Spencer made — if it -was luck. I don't believe it
was any such thing. It was Providence, because
the Almighty saw we needed her, I reckon."

The day finally came when Anne must go to
town. She and Matthew drove in one fine Septem-
ber morning, after a tearful parting with Diana and
an untearful, practical one — on Manila's side at
least — with Marilla. But when Anne had gone
Diana dried her tears and went to a beaeh picnic at

A QUEEN'S GIRL 355

White Sands with some of her Carmody cousins,
where she contrived to enjoy herself tolerably well ;
while Marilla plunged fiercely into unnecessary
work and kept at it all day long with the bitterest
kind of a heartache — the ache that burns and gnaws
and cannot wash itself away in readv tears. But
that night, when Marilla went to bed, acutely and
miserably conscious that the little gable room at
the end of the hall was untenanted by any vivid
young life and unstirred by any soft breathing, she
buried her face in her pillow, and wept for her girl
in a passion of sobs that appalled her when she
grew calm enough to reflect how very wicked it
must be to take on so about a sinful fellow creature.
Anne and the rest of the Avonlea scholars reached
town just in time to hurry off to the Academy.
That first day passed pleasantly enough in a whirl
of excitement, meeting all the new students, learn-
ing to know the professors by sight and being as-
sorted and organized into classes. Anne intended
taking up the Second Year work, being advised to
do so by Miss Stacy; Gilbert Blythe elected to do
the same. This meant getting a First Class teach-
er's license in one year instead of two, if they were
successful ; but it also meant much more and harder
work. Jane, Ruby, Josie, Charlie, and Moody
Spurgeon, not being troubled with the stirrings of
ambition, were content to take up the Second Class
work. Anne was conscious of a pang of loneliness
when she found herself in a room with fifty other
students, not one of whom she knew, except the tall,
brown-haired boy across the room; and knowing

866 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

him in the fashion she did, did not help her much,
as she reflected pessimistically. Yet she was un-
deniably glad that they were in the same class; the
old rivalry could still be carried on, and Anne would
hardly have known what to do if it had been lack-
ing.

"I wouldn't feel comfortable without it," she
thought. "Gilbert looks awfully determined. I
suppose he's making up his mind, here and now, to
win the medal. What a splendid chin he has! I
never noticed it before. I do wish Jane and Ruby
had gone in for First Class, too. I suppose I won't
feel so much like a cat in a strange garret when I
get acquainted, though. I wonder which of the
girls here are going to be my friends. It's really
an interesting speculation. Of course I promised
Diana that no Queen's girl, no matter how much I
liked her, should ever be as dear to me as she is ;
but I've lots of second-best affections to bestow. I
like the look of that girl with the brown eyes and
the crimson waist. She looks vivid and red-rosy;
and there's that pale, fair one gazing out of the
window. She has lovely hair, and looks as if she
knew a thing or two about dreams. I'd like to
know them both — know them well — well enough to
walk with my arm about their waists, and call them
nicknames. But just now I don't know them and
they don't know me, and probably don't want to
know me particularly. Oh, it's lonesome !"

It was lonesomer still when Anne found herself
alone in her hall bedroom that night at twilight.
She was not to board with the other girls, who all

A QUEEN'S GIRL 857

had relatives in town to take pity on them. Miss
Josephine Barry would have liked to board her, but
Beechwood was so far from the Academy that it
was out of the question ; so Miss Barry hunted up
a boarding-house, assuring Matthew and Marilla
that it was the very place for Anne.

"The lady who keeps it is a reduced gentle-
woman," explained Miss Barry. "Her husband
was a British officer, and she is very careful what
sort of boarders she takes. Anne will not meet
with any objectionable persons under her roof. The
table is good, and the house is near the Academy, in
a quiet neighbourhood."

All this might be quite true, and, indeed, proved
to be so, but it did not materially help Anne in the
first agony of homesickness that seized upon her.
She looked dismally about her narrow little room,
with its dull-papered, pictureless walls, Its small iron
bedstead and empty bookcase ; and a horrible choke
came into her throat as she thought of her own
white room at Green Gables, where she would have
the pleasant consciousness of a great green still out-
doors, of sweet peas growing in the garden, and
moonlight falling on the orchard, of the brook be-
low the slope and the spruce boughs tossing in the
night wind beyond it, of a vast starry sky, and the
light from Diana's window shining out through the
gap in the trees. Here there was nothing of this;
Anne knew that outside of her window was a hard
street, with a network of telephone wires shutting
out the sky, the tramp of alien feet, and a thousand

358 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

lights gleaming on stranger faces. She knew that
she was going to cry, and fought against it.

"I won't cry. It's silly — and weak — there's the
third tear splashing down by my nose. There are
more coming! I must think of something funny to
stop them. But there's nothing funny except what
is connected with Avonlea, and that only makes
things worse — four — five — I'm going home next
Friday, but that seems a hundred years away. Oh,
Matthew is nearly home by now — and Marilla is at
the gate, looking down the lane for him — six —
seven — eight — oh, there's no use in counting them !
They're coming in a flood presently. I can't cheer
up — I don't want to cheer up. It's nicer to be miser-
able!"

The flood of tears would have come, no doubt,
had not Josie Pye appeared at that moment. In the
joy of seeing a familiar face Anne forgot that there
had never been much love lost between her and
Josie. As a part of Avonlea life even a Pye was
welcome.

"I'm so glad you came up," Anne said sincerely.

"You've been crying," remarked Josie, with ag-
gravating pity. "I suppose you're homesick — some
people have so little self-control in that respect.
I've no intention of being homesick, I can tell you.
Town's too jolly after that poky old Avonlea. I
wonder how I ever existed there so long. You
shouldn't cry, Anne; it isn't becoming, for your
nose and eyes get red, and then you seem all red.
I'd a perfectly scrumptious time in the Academy to-
day. Our French professor is simply a duck. His

A QUEEN'S GIRL 359

moustache would give you kerwollops of the heart.
Have you anything eatable around, Anne? I'm
literally starving. Ah, I guessed likely Marilla'd
load you up with cake. That's why I called round.
Otherwise I'd have gone to the park to hear the
band play with Frank Stockley. He boards same
place as I do, and he's a sport. He noticed you in
class to-day, and asked me who the red-headed girl
was. I told him you were an orphan that the Cuth-
berts had adopted, and nobody knew very much
about what you'd been before that."

Anne was wondering if, after all, solitude and
tears were not more satisfactory than Josie Pye's
companionship when Jane and Ruby appeared, each
with an inch of Queen's colour ribbon — purple and
scarlet — pinned proudly to her coat. As Josie was
not "speaking" to Jane just then she had to subside
into comparative harmlessness.

"Well," said Jane with a sigh, "I feel as if I'd
lived many moons since the morning. I ought to be
home studying my Virgil — that horrid old professor
gave us twenty lines to start in on to-morrow.
But I simply couldn't settle down to study to-night.
Anne, methinks I see the traces of tears. If you've
been crying do own up. It will restore my self-
respect, for I was shedding tears freely before Ruby
came along. I don't mind being a goose so much
if somebody else is goosey, too. Cake? You'll
give me a teeny piece, won't you ? Thank you. It
has the real Avonlea flavour."

Ruby, perceiving the Queen's calendar lying OH

360 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

the table, wanted to know if Anne meant to try for
the gold medal.

Anne blushed and admitted she was thinking of it.

"Oh, that reminds me," said Josie, "Queen's is
to get one of the Avery scholarships after all. The
tword carne to-day. Frank Stockley told me — his
uncle is one of the board of governors, you know.
It will be announced in the Academy to-morrow."

An Avery scholarship ! Anne felt her heart beat
more quickly, and the horizons of her ambition
shifted and broadened as if by magic. Before Josie
had told the news Anne's highest pinnacle of aspira-
tion had been a teacher's provincial license, Class
First, at the end of the year, and perhaps the medal !
But now in one moment Anne saw herself winning
the Avery scholarship, taking an Arts course at
Redmond College, and graduating in a gown and
mortar-board, all before the echo of Josie's words
had died away. For the Avery scholarship was in
English, and Anne felt that here her foot was on
her native heath.

A wealthy manufacturer of New Brunswick had
died and left part of his fortune to endow a large
number of scholarships to be distributed among the
various high schools and academies of the Maritime
Provinces, according to their respective standings.
There had been much doubt whether one would be
allotted to Queen's, but the matter was settled at
last, and at the end of the year the graduate who
made the highest mark in English and English Lit-
erature would win the scholarship — two hundred
and fifty dollars a year for four years at Redmond

A QUEEN'S GIRL

College. No wonder that Anne went to bed that
night with tingling cheeks 1

"I'll win that scholarship if hard work can do it,"
she resolved. "Wouldn't Matthew be proud if I
got to be a B. A. ? Oh, it's delightful to have ambi-
tions. I'm so glad I have such a lot And there
never seems to be any end to them — that's the best
of it. Just as soon as you attain to one ambition
you see another one glittering higher up still. It
does make life so interesting,"

CHAPTER XXXV

THE WINTER AT QUEEN^S

ANNE'S homesickness wore off, greatly helped in
the wearing by her week-end visits home. As long
as the open weather lasted the Avonlea students
went out to Carmody on the new branch railway
every Friday night. Diana and several other
Avonlea young folks were generally on hand to
meet them and they all walked over to Avonlea in a
merry party. Anne thought those Friday evening
gipsyings over the autumnal hills in the crisp golden
air, with the homelights of Avonlea twinkling be-
yond, were the best and dearest hours in the whole
week.

Gilbert Blythe nearly always walked with Ruby
Gillis and carried her satchel for her. Ruby was a
very handsome young lady, now thinking herself
quite as grown up as she really was ; she wore her
skirts as long as her mother would let her and did
her hair up in town, though she had to take it down
when she went home. She had large, bright-blue
eyes, a brilliant complexion, and a plump showy
figure. She laughed a great deal, was cheerful and
good-tempered, and enjoyed the pleasant things of
life frankly.

"But I shouldn't think she was the sort of girl

362

THE WINTER AT QUEEN'S 363

Gilbert would like," whispered Jane to Anne. Anne
did not think so either, but she would not have said
so for the Avery scholarship. She could not help
thinking, too, that it would be very pleasant to have
such a friend as Gilbert to jest and chatter with and
exchange ideas about books and studies and ambi-
tions. Gilbert had ambitions, she knew, and Ruby
Gillis did not seem the sort of person with whom
such could be profitably discussed.

There was no silly sentiment in Anne's ideas con-
cerning Gilbert. Boys were to her, when she
thought about them at all, merely possible good
comrades. If she and Gilbert had been friends she
would not have cared how many other friends he
had nor with whom he walked. She had a genius
for friendship; girl friends she had in plenty; but
she had a vague consciousness that masculine
friendship might also be a good thing to round out
one's conceptions of companionship and furnish
broader standpoints of judgment and comparison.
Not that Anne could have put her feelings on the
matter into just such clear definition. But she
thought that if Gilbert had ever walked home with
her from the train, over the crisp fields and along
the ferny byways, they might have had many and
merry and interesting conversations about the new
world that was opening around them and their
hopes and ambitions therein. Gilbert was a clever
young fellow, with his own thoughts about things
and a determination to get the best out of life and
put the best into it. Ruby Gillis told Jane Andrews
that she didn't understand half the things Gilbert

364 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

Blythe said; he talked just like Anne Shirley did
when she had a thoughtful fit on and for her part
she didn't think it any fun to be bothering about
books and that sort of thing when you didn't have
to. Frank Stockley had lots more dash and go, but
then he wasn't half as good-looking as Gilbert and
she really couldn't decide which she liked best !

In the Academy Anne gradually drew a little cir-
cle of friends about her, thoughtful, imaginative,
ambitious students like herself. With the "rose-
red" girl, Stella Maynard, and the "dream girl,"
Priscilla Grant, she soon became intimate, finding
the latter pale spiritual-looking maiden to be full
to the brim of mischief and pranks and fun, while
the vivid, black-eyed Stella had a heartful of wistful
dreams and fancies, as aerial and rainbow-like as
Anne's own.

After the Christmas holidays the Avonlea stu-
dents gave up going home on Fridays and settled
down to hard work. By this time all the Queen's
scholars had gravitated into their own places in the
ranks and the various classes had assumed distinct
and settled shadings of individuality. Certain facts
had become generally accepted. It was admitted
that the medal contestants had practically narrowed
down to three — Gilbert Blythe, Anne Shirley, and
Lewis Wilson; the Avery scholarship was more
doubtful, any one of a certain six being a possible
winner. The bronze medal for mathematics was
considered as good as won by a fat, funny little up-
country boy with a bumpy forehead and a patched

COftt,

THE WINTER AT QUEEN'S 860

Ruby Gillis was the handsomest girl of the year
at the Academy; in the Second Year classes Stella
Maynard carried off the palm for beauty, with a
small but critical minority in favour of Anne Shir-
ley. Ethel Marr was admitted by all competent
judges to have the most stylish modes of hair-dress-
ing, and Jane Andrews — plain, plodding, conscien-
tious Jane-— carried off the honours in the domestic
science course. Even Josie Pye attained a certain
preeminence as the sharpest-tongued young lady
in attendance at Queen's. So it may be fairly
stated that Miss Stacy's old pupils held their own in
the wider arena of the academical course.

Anne worked hard and steadily. Her rivalry
with Gilbert was as intense as it had ever been in
Avonlea school, although it was not known in the
class at large, but somehow the bitterness had gone
out of it. Anne no longer wished to win for the
sake of defeating Gilbert; rather, for the proud
consciousness of a well-won victory over a worthy
foeman. It would be worth while to win, but she
no longer thought life would be insupportable if
she did not.

In spite of lessons the students found opportuni-
ties for pleasant times. Anne spent many of her
spare hours at Beechwood and generally ate her
Sunday dinners there and went to church with Miss
Barry. The latter was, as she admitted, growing
old, but her black eyes were not dim nor the vigour
of her tongue in the least abated. But she never
sharpened the latter on Anne, who continued to
be a prime favourite with the critical old lady.

866 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

"That Anne-girl improves all the time," she said.
"I get tired of other girls — there is such a provok-
ing and eternal sameness about them. Anne has as
many shades as a rainbow and every shade is the
prettiest while it lasts. I don't know that she is as
amusing as she was when she was a child, but she
makes me love her and I like people who make me
love them. It saves me so much trouble in making
myself love them."

Then, almost before anybody realized it, spring
had come; out in Avonlea the Mayflowers were
peeping pinkly out on the sere barrens where snow-
wreaths lingered; and the "mist of green" was on
the woods and in the valleys. But in Charlotte-
town harassed Queen's students thought and talked
only of examinations.

"It doesn't seem possible that the term is nearly
over," said Anne. "Why, last fall it seemed so long
to look forward to — a whole winter of studies and
classes. And here we are, with the exams looming
up next week. Girls, sometimes I feel as if those
exams meant everything, but when I look at the big
buds swelling on those chestnut trees and the misty
blue air at the end of the streets they don't seem
half so important."

Jane and Ruby and Josie, who had dropped in, did
not take this view of it. To them the coming ex-
aminations were constantly very important indeed
— far more important than chestnut buds or May-
time hazes. It was all very well for Anne, who was
sure of passing at least, to have her moments of
belittling them, but when your whole future de-

THE WINTER AT QUEEN'S 367

pended on them— as the girls truly thought theirs

dilTy°U C°Uld n0t reSard them philosophically.

"I've lost seven pounds in the last two weeks,"
sighed Jane. "It's no use to say don't worry. I
will worry. Worrying helps you some— it seems as
if you were doing something when you re worrying.
It would be dreadful if I failed to get my license
after going to Queen's all winter and spending so
much money."

"/ don't care," said Josie Pye. "If I don't pass
this year I'm coming back next. My father can af-
ford to send me. Anne, Frank Stockley says that
Professor Tremaine said Gilbert Blythe was sure to
get the medal and that Emily Clay would likely win
the Avery scholarship."

"That may make me feel badly to-morrow, Josie,"
laughed Anne, "but just now I honestly feel that as
long as I know the violets are coming out all purple
down in the hollow below Green Gables and that
little ferns are poking their heads up in Lovers'
Lane, it's not a great deal of difference whether I
win the Avery or not. I've done my best and I
begin to understand what is meant by the 'joy of
the strife.' Next to trying and winning, the best
thing is trying and failing. Girls, don't talk about
exams ! Look at that arch of pale green sky over
those houses and picture to yourselves what it must
look like over the purply-dark beechwoods back of
Avonlea."

"What are you going to wear for commencement,
Jane?" asked Ruby practically.

Jane and Josie both answered at once and the

ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

chatter drifted into a side eddy of fashions. But
Anne, with her elbows on the window sill, her soft
cheek laid against her clasped hands, and her eyes
filled with visions, looked out unheedingly across
city roof and spire to that glorious dome of sunset
sky and wove her dreams of a possible future from
the golden tissue of youth's own optimism. All the
Beyond was hers with its possibilities lurking rosily
in the oncoming years — each year a rose of promise
to be woven into an immortal chaplet

CHAPTER XXXVI

THE GLORY AND THE DREAM

ON the morning when the final results of all the
examinations were to be posted on the bulletin
board at Queen's, Anne and Jane walked down the
street together. Jane was smiling and happy ; ex-
aminations were over and she was comfortably sure
she had made a pass at least ; further considerations
troubled Jane not at all ; she had no soaring ambi-
tions and consequently was not affected with the
unrest attendant thereon. For we pay a price for
everything we get or take in this world; and al-
though ambitions are well worth having, they are
not to be cheaply won, but exact their dues of work
and self-denial, anxiety and discouragement. Anne
was pale and quiet ; in ten more minutes she would
know who had won the medal and who the Avery.
Beyond those ten minutes there did not seem, just
then, to be anything worth being called Time.

"Of course you'll win one of them anyhow," said
Jane, who couldn't understand how the faculty
could be so unfair as to order it otherwise.

"I have no hope of the Avery," said Anne.
"Everybody says Emily Clay will win it. And I'm
not going to march up to that bulletin board and
look at it before everybody. I haven't the moral

869

370 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

courage. I'm going straight to the girl's dressing-
room. You must read the announcements and then
come and tell me, Jane. And I implore you in the
name of our old friendship to do it as quickly as
possible. If I have failed just say so, without try-
ing to break it gently; and whatever you do don't
sympathize with me. Promise me this, Jane."

Jane promised solemnly; but, as it happened,
there was no necessity for such a promise. When
they went up the entrance steps of Queen's they
found the hall full of boys who were carrying Gil-
bert Blythe around on their shoulders and yelling
at the tops of their voices, "Hurrah for Blythe,
Medallist !"

For a moment Anne felt one sickening pang of
defeat and disappointment. So she had failed and
Gilbert had won! Well, Matthew would be sorry,
— he had been so sure she would win.

And then !

Somebody called out:

"Three cheers for Miss Shirley, winner of the
Avery!"

"Oh, Anne," gasped Jane, as they fled to the
girls' dressing-room amid hearty cheers. "Oh,
Anne, I'm so proud! Isn't it splendid?"

And then the girls were around them and Anne
was the centre of a laughing, congratulating group.
Her shoulders were thumped and her hands shaken
vigorously. She was pushed and pulled and hugged
and among it all she managed to whisper to Jane :

"Oh, won't Matthew and Marilla be pleased ! I
must write the news home right away."

THE GLORY AND THE DREAM 871

Commencement was the next important happen-
ing. The exercises were held in the big assembly
hall of the Academy. Addresses were given, essays
read, songs sung, the public award of diplomas,
prizes and medals made.

Matthew and Marilla were there, with eyes and
ears for only one student on the platform — a tall
girl in pale green, with faintly flushed cheeks and
starry eyes, who read the best essay and was
pointed out and whispered about as the Avery
v/inner.

"Reckon you're glad we kept her, Marilla?"
whispered Matthew, speaking for the first time
since he had entered the hall, when Anne had fin-
ished her essay.

"It's not the first time I've been glad," retorted
Marilla. "You do like to rub things in, Matthew
Cuthbert."

Miss Barry, who was sitting behind them, leaned
forward and poked Marilla in the back with her
parasol.

"Aren't you proud of that Anne-girl? I am/'
she said.

Anne went home to Avonlea with Matthew and
Marilla that evening. She had not been home
since April and she felt that she could not wait
another day. The apple blossoms were out and the
world was fresh and young. Diana was at Green
(Gables to meet her. In her own white room, where
Marilla had set a flowering house rose on the win-
dow sill, Anne looked about her and drew a long
ibrcatli of happiness.

872 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

'*Oh, Diana, it's so good to be back again. It's
so good to see those pointed firs coming out against
the pink sky — and that white orchard and the old
Snow Queen, Isn't the breath of the mint deli-
cious? And that tea rose — why, it's a song and a
hope and a prayer all in one. And it's good to see
you again, Diana !"

"I thought you liked that Stella Maynard better
than me/' said Diana reproachfully. "Josie Pye
told me you did. Josie said you were infatuated
with her."

Anne laughed and pelted Diana with the faded
"June lilies" of her bouquet.

"Stella Maynard is the dearest girl in the world
except one and you are that one, Diana," she said.
"I love you more than ever — and I've so many
things to tell you. But just now I feel as if it were
joy enough to sit here and look at you. I'm tired,
I think — tired of being studious and ambitious. I
mean to spend at least two hours to-morrow lying
out in the orchard grass, thinking of absolutely
nothing."

"You've done splendidly, Anne. I suppose you
won't be teaching now that you've won the Avery ?"

"No. I'm going to Redmond in September.
Doesn't it seem wonderful ? I'll have a brand-new
stock of ambition laid in by that time after three
glorious, golden months of vacation. Jane and
Ruby are going to teach. Isn't it splendid to think
we all got through even to Moody Spurgeon and
Josie Pye?"

"The Newbridge trustees have offered Jane their

THE GLORY AND THE DREAM 378

school already," said Diana. "Gilbert Blythe is go-
ing to teach, too. He has to. His father can't afford
to send him to college next year, after all, so
he means to earn his own way through. I expect
he'll get the school here if Miss Ames decides to
leave."

Anne felt a queer little sensation of dismayed sur-
prise. She had not known this; she had expected
that Gilbert would be going to Redmond also.
What would she do without their inspiring rivalry?
Would not work, even at a co-educational college
with a real degree in prospect, be rather flat without
her friend the enemy?

The next morning at breakfast it suddenly struck
Anne that Matthew was not looking well. Surely
he was much grayer than he had been a year before.

"Marilla," she said hesitatingly when he had gone
out, "is Matthew quite well ?"

"No, he isn't," said Marilla in a troubled tone.
"He's had some real bad spells with his heart this
spring and he won't spare himself a mite. I've been
real worried about him, but he's some better this
while back and we've got a good hired man, so I'm
hoping he'll kind of rest and pick up. Maybe he will
now you're home. You always cheer him up."

Anne leaned across the table and took Marilla's
face in her hands.

"You are not looking as well yourself as I'd like
to see you, Marilla. You look tired. I'm afraid
you've been working too hard. You must take *
rest, now that I'm home. I'm just going to Uk«
this one day off to visit all the dear old spott and

374 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

hunt up my old dreams, and then it will be your
turn to be lazy while I do the work."

Marilla smiled affectionately at her girl.

"It's not the work — it's my head. I've a pain so
often now — behind my eyes. Doctor Spencer's
been fussing with glasses, but they don't do me any
good. There is a distinguished oculist coming to
the Island the last of June and the doctor says I
must see him. I guess I'll have to. I can't read or
sew with any comfort now. Well, Anne, you've
done real well at Queen's I must say. To take
First Class License in one year and win the Avery
scholarship — well, well, Mrs. Lynde says pride goes
before a fall and she doesn't believe in the higher
education of women at all ; she says it unfits them
for woman's true sphere. I don't believe a word of
it. Speaking of Rachel reminds me — did you hear
anything about the Abbey Bank lately, Anne?"

"I heard that it was shaky," answered Anne.
"Why?"

"That is what Rachel said. She was up here one
day last week and said there was some talk about it.
Matthew felt real worried. All we have saved is in
that bank — every penny. I wanted Matthew to put
it in the Savings Bank in the first place, but old Mr.
Abbey was a great friend of father's and he'd always
banked with him. Matthew said any bank with
him at the head of it was good enough for any-
body."

"I think he has only been its nominal head for
many years," said Anne. "He is a very old man;

THE GLORY AND THE DREAM 375

his nephews are really at the head of the institu-
tion."

"Well, when Rachel told us that, I wanted Mat-
thew to draw our money right out and he said
he'd think of it. But Mr. Russell told him yester-
day that the bank was all right."

Anne had her good day in the companionship
of the outdoor world. She never forgot that day ;
it was so bright and golden and fair, so free from
shadow and so lavish of blossom. Anne spent
some of its rich hours in the orchard; she went to
the Dryad's Bubble and Willowmere and Violet
Vale ; she called at the manse and had a satisfying
talk with Mrs. Allan; and finally in the evening
she went with Matthew for the cows, through
Lovers' Lane to the back pasture. The woods
were all gloried through with sunset and the warm
splendour of it streamed down through the hill
gaps in the west. Matthew walked slowly with
bent head ; Anne, tall and erect, suited her spring-
ing step to his.

"You've been working too hard to-day, Mat-
thew," she said reproachfully. "Why won't you
take things easier?"

"Well now, I can't seem to," said Matthew, as
he opened the yard gate to let the cows through.
"It's only that I'm getting old, Anne, and keep for-
getting it. Well, well, I've always worked pretty
hard and I'd rather drop in harness."

"If I had been the boy you sent for," said Anne
wistfully, "I'd be able to help you so much now and

976 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

spare you in a hundred ways. I could find it in my
heart to wish I had been, just for that."

"Well now, I'd rather have you than a dozen
boys, Anne," said Matthew patting her hand.
"Just miad you that — rather than a dozen boys.
Well now, I guess it wasn't a boy that took the
Avery scholarship, was it? It was a girl — my
girl — my girl that I'm proud of."

He smiled his shy smile at her as he went into
the yard. Anne took the memory of it with her
when she went to her room that night and sat
for a long while at her open window, thinking of
the past and dreaming of the future. Outside the
Snow Queen was mistily white in the moon-
shine ; the frogs were singing in the marsh beyond
Orchard Slope. Anne always remembered the
silvery, peaceful beauty and fragrant calm of that
night. It was the last night before sorrow touched
her life; and no life is ever quite the same again
when once that cold, sanctifying touch has been
laid upon it

CHAPTER XXXVII

THE REAPER WHOSE NAME IS DEATH

"MATTHEW — Matthew—what is the matter?
Matthew, are you sick?"

It was Manila who spoke, alarm in every jerky
word. Anne came through the hall, her hands full
of white narcissus, — it was long before Anne could
love the sight or odour of white narcissus again, —
in time to hear her and to see Matthew standing in
the porch doorway, a folded paper in his hand, and
his face strangely drawn and gray. Anne dropped
her flowers and sprang across the kitchen to him at
the same moment as Marilla. They were both too
late; before they could reach him Matthew had
fallen across the threshold.

"He's fainted," gasped Marilla. "Anne, run for
Martin — quick, quick ! He's at the barn."

Martin, the hired man, who had just driven home
from the post-office, started at once for the doctor,
calling at Orchard Slope on his way to send Mr. and
Mrs. Barry over. Mrs. Lynde, who was there on
an errand, came too. They found Anne and Ma-
rilla distractedly trying to restore Matthew to con-
sciousness.

Mrs. Lynde pushed them gently aside, tried his
pulse, and then laid her ear over his heart. She

877

878 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

looked at their anxious faces sorrowfully and the
tears came into her eyes.

"Oh, Marilla," she said gravely. "I don't think
— we can do anything for him."

"Mrs. Lynde, you don't think — you can't think
Matthew is — is — " Anne could not say the dread-
ful word ; she turned sick and pallid.

"Child, yes, I'm afraid of it. Look at his face.
When you've seen that look as often as I have you'll
know what it means."

Anne looked at the still face and there beheld the
seal of the Great Presence.

When the doctor came he said that death had
been instantaneous and probably painless, caused in
all likelihood by some sudden shock. The secret
of the shock was discovered to be in the paper
Matthew had held and which Martin had brought
from the office that morning. It contained an ac-
count of the failure of the Abbey Bank.

The news spread quickly through Avonlea, and
all day friends and neighbours thronged Green
Gables and came and went on errands of kindness
for the dead and living. For the first time shy,
quiet Matthew Cuthbert was a person of central
importance; the white majesty of death had fallen
on him and set him apart as one crowned.

When the calm night came softly down over
Green Gables the old house was hushed and tranquil.
In the parlour lay Matthew Cuthbert in his coffin,
his long gray hair framing his placid face on which
there was a little kindly smile as if he slept, dream-
ing pleasant dreams. There were flowers about

REAPER WHOSE NAME IS DEATH 379

him — sweet old-fashioned flowers which his mother
had planted in the homestead garden in her bridal
days and for which Matthew had always had a
secret, wordkss love. Anne had gathered them and
brought them to him, her anguished, tearless eyes
burning in her white face. It was the last thing
she could do for him.

The Barrys and Mrs. Lynde stayed with them
that night. Diana, going to the east gable, where
Anne was standing at her window, said gently:

"Anne dear, would you like to have me sleep with
you to-night?"

"Thank you, Diana." Anne looked earnestly in-
to her friend's face. "I think you won't misunder-
stand me when I say that I want to be alone. I'm
not afraid. I haven't been alone one minute since
it happened — and I want to be. I want to be quite
silent and quiet and try to realize it. I can't realize
it. Half the time it seems to me that Matthew
can't be dead ; and the other half it seems as if he
must have been dead for a long time and I've had
this horrible dull ache ever since."

Diana did not quite understand. Manila's im-
passioned grief, breaking all the bounds of natural
reserve and lifelong habits in its stormy rush, she
could comprehend better than Anne's tearless
agony. But she went away kindly, leaving Anne
alone to keep her first vigil with sorrow.

Anne hoped that tears would come in solitude.
It seemed to her a terrible thing that she could not
shed a tear for Matthew, whom she had loved so
much and who had been so kind to her, Matthew,

380 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

who had walked with her last evening at sunset and
was now lying in the dim room below with that
awful peace on his brow. But no tears came at
first, even when she knelt by her window in the
darkness and prayed, looking up to the stars beyond
the hills — no tears, only the same horrible dull ache
of misery that kept on aching until she fell asleep,
worn out with the day's pain and excitement.

In the night she awakened, with the stillness and
the darkness about her, and the recollection of the
day came over her like a wave of sorrow. She
could see Matthew's face smiling at her as he had
smiled when they parted at the gate that last eve-
ning— she could hear his voice saying, "My girl —
my girl that I'm proud of." Then the tears came
and Anne wept her heart out. Manila heard, her
and crept in to comfort her.

"There — there — don't cry so, dearie. It can't
bring him back. It — it — isn't right to cry so. I
knew that to-day, but I couldn't help it then. He'd
always been such a good, kind brother to me — but
God knows best."

"Oh, just let me cry, Manila," sobbed Anne.
"The tears don't hurt me like that ache did. Stay
here for a little while with me and keep your arm
round me — so. I couldn't have Diana stay, she's
good and kind and sweet — but it's not her sorrow —
she's outside of it and she couldn't come close
enough to my heart to help me. It's our sorrow —
yours and mine. Oh, Marilla, what will we da
without him?"

"We've got each other. Anne. I don't know

REAPER WHOSE NAME IS DEATH 381

what I'd do if you weren't here—if you'd never
come. Oh, Anne, I know I've been kind of strict
and harsh with you maybe— but you mustn't think
I didn't love you as well as Matthew did, for all
that. I want to tell you now when I can. It's
never been easy for me to say things out of my
heart, but at times like this it's easier. I love you
as dear as if you were my own flesh and blood and
you've been my joy and comfort ever since you
came to Green Gables."

Two days afterwards they carried Matthew Cuth-
bert over his homestead threshold and away from
the fields he had tilled and the orchards he had
loved and the trees he had planted ; and then Avon-
lea settled back to its usual placidity and even at
Green Gables affairs slipped into their old groove
and work was done and duties fulfilled with regu-
larity as before, although always with the aching
sense of "loss in all familiar things." Anne, new to
grief, thought it almost sad that it could be so—
that they could go on in the old way without Mat-
thew. She felt something like shame and remorse
when she discovered that the sunrises behind the
firs and the pale pink buds opening in the garden
gave her the old inrush of gladness when she saw
them — that Diana's visits were pleasant to her ana
that Diana's merry words and ways moved her to
laughter and smiles — that, in brief, the beautiful
world of blossom and love and friendship had lost
none of its power to please her fancy and thrill her
heart, that life still called to her with many insistent
voices.

382 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

"It seems like disloyalty to Matthew, somehow,
to find pleasure in these things now that he has
gone," she said wistfully to Mrs. Allan one evening
when they were together in the manse garden. "I
miss him so much — all the time — and yet, Mrs.
Allan, the world and life seem very beautiful and
interesting to me for all. To-day Diana said some-
thing funny and I found myself laughing. I thought
when it happened I could never laugh again. And
it somehow seems as if I oughtn't to."

"When Matthew was here he liked to hear you
laugh and he liked to know that you found pleasure
in the pleasant things around you," said Mrs. Allan
gently. "He is just away now; and he likes to
know it just the same. I am sure we should not
shut our hearts against the healing influences that
nature offers us. But I understand your feeling.
I think we all experience the same thing. We re-
sent the thought that anything can please us when
some one we love is no longer here to share the
pleasure with us, and we almost feel as if we were
unfaithful to our sorrow when we find our interest
in life returning to us."

"I was down to the graveyard to plant a rose-
bush on Matthew's grave this afternoon," said Anne
dreamily. "I took a slip of the little white Scotch
rose-bush his mother brought out from Scotland
long ago; Matthew always liked those roses the
best — they were so small and sweet on their thorny
stems. It made me feel glad that I could plant it
by his grave — as if I were doing something that
must please him in taking it there to be near him.

REAPER WHOSE NAME IS DEATH 383

I hope he has roses like them in heaven. Perhaps
the souls of all those little white roses that he has
loved so many summers were all there to meet him.
I must go home now. Manila is all alone and she
gets lonely at twilight."

"She will be lonelier still, I fear, when you go
away again to college," said Mrs. Allan.

Anne did not reply ; she said good night and went
slowly back to Green Gables. Marilla was sitting
on the front door-steps and Anne sat down beside
her. The door was open behind them, held back by
a big pink conch shell with hints of sea sunsets in its
smooth inner convolutions.

Anne gathered some sprays of pale yellow honey-
suckle and put them in her hair. She liked the deli-
cious hint of fragrance, as of some aerial benedic-
tion, above her every time she moved.

"Doctor Spencer was here while you were away,"
Marilla said. "He says that the specialist will be
in town to-morrow and he insists that I must go in
and have my eyes examined. I suppose I'd better
go and have it over. I'll be more than thankful if
the man can give me the right kind of glasses to suit
my eyes. You won't mind staying here alone while
I'm away, will you? Martin will have to drive me
in and there's ironing and baking to do."

"I shall be all right. Diana will come over for
company for me. I shall attend to the ironing and
baking beautifully — you needn't fear that I'll starch
the handkerchiefs or flavour the cake with lini-
ment."

Marilla laughed.

384 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

"What a girl you were for making mistakes in
them days, Anne. You were always getting into
scrapes. I did use to think you were possessed.
Do you mind the time you dyed your hair ?"

"Yes, indeed. I shall never forget it," smiled
Anne, touching the heavy braid of hair that was
wound about her shapely head. "I laugh a little
now sometimes when I think what a worry my hair
used to be to me — but I don't laugh much, because
it was a very real trouble then. I did suffer terribly
over my hair and my freckles. My freckles are
really gone ; and people are nice enough to tell me
my hair is auburn now — all but Josie Pye. She in-
formed me yesterday that she really thought it was
redder than ever, or at least my black dress made
it look redder, and she asked me if people who had
red hair ever got used to having it. Marilla, I've
almost decided to give up trying to like Josie Pye.
I've made what I would once have called a heroic
effort to like her, but Josie Pye won't be liked."

"Josie is a Pye," said Marilla sharply, "so she
can't help being disagreeable. I suppose people of
that kind serve some useful purpose in society, but
I must say I don't know what it is any more than I
know the use of thistles. Is Josie going to teach?"

"No, she is going back to Queen's next year. So
are Moody Spurgeon and Charlie Sloane. Jane and
Ruby are going to teach and they have both got
schools — Jane at Newbridge and Ruby at some
place up west."

"Gilbert Blythe is going to teach too, isn't he?"

"Yes"—briefly.

REAPER WHOSE NAME IS DEATH 386

"What a nice-looking young fellow he is," said
Marilla absently. "I saw him in church last Sun-
day and he seemed so tall and manly. He looks a
lot like his father did at the same age. John Blythe
was a nice boy. We used to be real good friends,
he and I. People called him my beaa."

Anne looked up with swift interest.

"Oh, Marilla — and what happened? — why didn't
you—"

"We had a quarrel. I wouldn't forgive him
when he asked me to. I meant to, after awhile —
but I was sulky and angry and I wanted to punish
him first. He never came back — the Blythes were
all mighty independent. But I always felt — rather
sorry. I've always kind of wished I'd forgiven
him when I had the chance."

"So you've had a bit of romance in your life,
too," said Anne softly.

"Yes, I suppose you might call it that. You
wouldn't think so to look at me, would you? But
you never can tell about people from their outsides.
Everybody has forgot about me and John. I'd for-
gotten myself. But it all came back to me when I
saw Gilbert last Sunday."

CHAPTER XXXVIII

THE BEND IN THE ROAD

MARILLA went to town the next day and returned
in the evening. Anne had gone over to Orchard
Slope with Diana and came back to find Marilla in
the kitchen, sitting by the table with her head lean-
ing on her hand. Something in her dejected atti-
tude struck a chill to Anne's heart. She had never
seen Marilla sit limply inert like that.

"Are you very tired, Marilla ?"

"Yes — no — I don't know," said Marilla wearily,
looking up. "I suppose I am tired but I haven't
thought about it. It's not that."

"Did you see the oculist? What did he say?"
asked Anne anxiously.

"Yes, I saw him. He examined my eyes. He
says that if I give up all reading and sewing entirely
and any kind of work that strains the eyes, and if
I'm careful not to cry, and if I wear the glasses he's
given me he thinks my eyes may not get any worse
and my headaches will be cured. But if I don't he
says I'll certainly be stone blind in six months.
Blind ! Anne, just think of it !"

For a minute Anne, after her first quick exclama-
tion of dismay, was silent. It seemed to her that
she could not speak. Then she said bravely, but
with a catch in her voice :

THE BEND IN THE ROAD 387

"Marilla, don't think of it. You know he has
given you hope. If you are careful you won't lose
your sight altogether; and if his glasses cure your
headaches it will be a great thing."

"I don't call it much hope," said Marilla bitterly.
"What am I to live for if I can't lead or sew or
do anything like that ? I might as well be blind—
or dead. And as for crying, I can't help that when
I get lonesome. But there, it's no good talking
about it. If you'll get me a cup of tea I'll be thank-
ful. I'm about done out. Don't say anything
about this to any one for a spell yet, anyway. I
can't bear that folks should come here to question
and sympathize and talk about it."

When Marilla had eaten her lunch Anne per-
suaded her to go to bed. Then Anne went herself
to the east gable and sat down by her window in
the darkness alone.with her tears and her heaviness
of heart. How sadly things had changed since she
had sat there the night after coming home ! Then
she had been full of hope and joy and the future had
looked rosy with promise. Anne felt as if she had
lived years since then, but before she went to bed
there was a smile on her lips and peace in her
heart. She had looked her duty courageously in
the face and found it a friend — as duty ever is when
we meet it frankly.

One afternoon a few days later Marilla came
slowly in from the yard where she had been talking
to a caller— a man whom Anne knew by sight as
John Sadler from Carmody. Anne wondered what

388 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

he could have been saying to bring that look to
Manila's face.

"What did Mr. Sadler want, Marilla?"

Manila sat down by the window and looked at
Anne. There were tears in her eyes in defiance of
the oculist's prohibition and her voice broke as she
said:

"He heard that I was going to sell Green Gables
and he wants to buy it."

"Buy itl Buy Green Gables?" Anne wondered
if she had heard aright. "Oh, Marilla, you don't
mean to sell Green Gables 1"

"Anne, I don't know what else is to be done.
I've thought it all over. If my eyes were strong I
could stay here and make out to look after things
and manage, with a good hired man. But as it is
I can't. I may lose my sight altogether ; and any-
way I'll not be fit to run things. Oh, I never
thought I'd live to see the day when I'd have to sell
my home. But things would only go behind worse
and worse all the time, till nobody would want to
buy it. Every cent of our money went in that
bank; and there's some notes Matthew gave last fal/
to pay. Mrs. Lynde advises me to sell the farm
and board somewhere — with her I suppose. It
won't bring much — it's small and the buildings are
old. But it'll be enough for me to live on I reckon.
I'm thankful you're provided for with that scholar-
ship, Anne. I'm sorry you won't have a home to
come to in your vacations, that's all, but I suppose
you'll manage somehow."

Marilla broke down and wept bitterly.

THE BEND IN THE ROAD 339

"You mustn't sell Green Gables," said Anne
resolutely.

"Oh, Anne, I wish I didn't have to. But you
can see for yourself. I can't stay here alone, I'd
go crazy with trouble and loneliness. And my
sight would go — I know it would."

"You won't have to stay here alone, Marilla,
I'll be with you. I'm not going to Redmond."

"Not going to Redmond!" Marilla lifted her
worn face from her hands and looked at Anne.
"Why, what do you mean?"

"Just what I say. I'm not going to take the
scholarship. I decided so the night after you came
home from town. You surely don't think I could
leave you alone in your trouble, Marilla, after all
you've done for me. I've been thinking and plan-
ning. Let me tell you my plans. Mr. Barry wants
to rent the farm for next year. So you won't have
any bother over that. And I'm going to teach.
I've applied for the school here — but I don't expect
to get it for I understand the trustees have prom-
ised it to Gilbert Blythe. But I can have the Car-
mody school — Mr. Blair told me so last night at
the store. Of course that won't be quite as nice
or convenient as if I had the Avonlea school. But
I can board home and drive myself over to Carmody
and back, in the warm weather at least. And even
in winter I can come home Fridays. We'll keep a
horse for that. Oh, I have it all planned out, Ma-
rilla. And I'll read to you and keep you cheered
up. You sha'n't be dull or lonesome. And we'll
be real cosy and happy here together, you and I."

390 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

Marilla had listened like a woman in a dream.

"Oh, Anne, I could get on real well if you were
here, I know. But I can't let you sacrifice yourself
so for me. It would be terrible."

"Nonsense !" Anne laughed merrily. "There is
no sacrifice. Nothing could be worse than giving
up Green Gables — nothing could hurt me more.
,We must keep the dear old place. My mind is
quite made up, Marilla. I'm not going to Red-
mond; and I am going to stay here and teach.
Don't you worry about me a bit."

"But your ambitions — and — "

"I'm just as ambitious as ever. Only, I've
changed the object of my ambitions. I'm going to
be a good teacher — and I'm going to save your eye-
sight. Besides, I mean to study at home here and
take a little college course all by myself. Oh, I've
dozens of plans, Marilla. I've been thinking them
out for a week. I shall give life here my best, and
I believe it will give its best to me in return. When
I left Queen's my future seemed to stretch out
before me like a straight road. I thought I could
see along it for many a milestone. Now there is a
bend in it. I don't know what lies around the
bend, but I'm going to believe that the best does.
It has a fascination of its own, that bend, Marilla,
I wonder how the road beyond it goes — what there
is of green glory and soft, checkered light and
shadows — what new landscapes — what new beau-
ties— what curves and hills and valleys further on."

"I don't feel as if I ought to let you give it up,"
said Marilla, referring to the scholarship.

THE BEND IN THE ROAD 391

"But you can't prevent me. I'm sixteen and a
half, 'obstinate as a mule,' as Mrs. Lynde once told
me," laughed Anne. "Oh, Marilla, don't you go
pitying me. I don't like to be pitied, and there is no
need for it. I'm heart glad over the very thought
of staying at dear Green Gables. Nobody could
love it as you and I do— so we must keep it."

"You blessed girl!" said Marilla, yielding. "I
feel as if you'd given me new life. I guess I ought
to stick out and make you go to college— but I
know I can't, so I ain't going to try. I'll make it
up to you though, Anne."

When it became noised abroad in Avonlea that
Anne Shirley had given up the idea of going to
college and intended to stay home and teach there
was a good deal of discussion over it. Most of the
good folks, not knowing about Manila's eyes,
thought she was foolish. Mrs. Allan did not. She
told Anne so in approving words that brought tears
of pleasure to the girl's eyes. Neither did good
Mrs. Lynde. She came up one evening and found
Anne and Marilla sitting at the front door in the
warm, scented summer dusk. They liked to sit
there when the twilight came down and the white
moths flew about in the garden and the odour of
mint filled the dewy air.

Mrs. Rachel deposited her substantial person up-
on the stone bench by the door, behind which grew
a row of tall pink and yellow hollyhocks, with a long
breath of mingled weariness and relief.

"I declare I'm glad to sit down. I've been on my
feet all day, and two hundred pounds is a good bit

392 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

for two feet to carry round. It's a great blessing
not to be fat, Marilla. I hope you appreciate it.
Well, Anne, I hear you've given up your notion of
going to college. I was real glad to hear it.
You've got as much education now as a woman can
be comfortable with. I don't believe in girls going
to college with the men and cramming their heads
full of Latin and Greek and all that nonsense."

"But I'm going to study Latin and Greek just the
same, Mrs. Lynde," said Anne laughing. "I'm go-
ing to take my Arts course right here at Green
Gables, and study everything that I would at
college."

Mrs. Lynde lifted her hands in holy horror.

"Anne Shirley, you'll kill yourself."

"Not a bit of it. I shall thrive on it. Oh, I'm
not going to overdo things. As 'Josiah Allen's
wife' says, I shall be 'mejum.' But I'll have lots
of spare time in the long winter evenings, and I've
no vocation for fancy work. I'm going to teach
over at Carmody, you know."

"I don't know it. I guess you're going to teach
right here in Avonlea. The trustees have decided
to give you the school."

"Mrs. Lynde !" cried Anne, springing to her feet
in her surprise. "Why, I thought they had promised
it to Gilbert Blythe !"

"So they did. But as soon as Gilbert heard that
you had applied for it he went to them — they had
a business meeting at the school last night, you
know — and told them that he withdrew his applica-
tion and suggested that they accept yours. He

THE BEND IN THE ROAD 393

said he was going to teach at White Sands. Of
course he gave up the school just to oblige you,
because he knew how much you wanted to stay
with Marilla, and I must say I think it was real
kind and thoughtful in him, that's what. Real
self-sacrificing, too, for he'll have his board to pay
at White Sands, and everybody knows he's got to
earn his own way through college. So the trus-
tees decided to take you. I was tickled to death
when Thomas came home and told me."

"I don't feel that I ought to take it," murmured
Anne. "I mean — I don't think I ought to let Gil-
bert make such a sacrifice for — for me.'

"I guess you can't prevent him now. He's
signed papers with the White Sands trustees. So
it wouldn't do him any good now if you were to
refuse. Of course you'll take the school. You'll
get along all right, now that there are no Pyes
going. Josie was the last of them, and a good
thing she was, that's what. There's been some Pye
or other going to Avonlea school for the last twenty
years, and I guess their mission in life was to keep
school-teachers reminded that earth isn't their
home. Bless my heart ! What does all that wink-
ing and blinking at the Barry gable mean?"

"Diana is signalling for me to go over," laughed
Anne. "You know we keep up the old custom.
Excuse me while I run over and see what she
wants."

Anne ran down the clover slope like a deer, and
disappeared in the firry shadows of the Haunted
Wood. Mrs. Lynde looked after her indulgently.

894 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

"There's a good deal of the child about her yet
in some ways."

"There's a good deal more of the woman about
her in others," retorted Manila, with a momentary
return of her old crispness.

But crispness was no longer Manila's distinguish-
ing characteristic. As Mrs. Lynde told her Thomas
that night,

"Marilla Cuthbert has got mellow. That's what."

Anne went to the little Avonlea graveyard the
next evening to put fresh flowers on Matthew's
grave and water the Scotch rose-bush. She lingered
there until dusk, liking the peace and calm of the
little place, with its poplars whose rustle was like
low, friendly speech, and its whispering grasses
growing at will among the graves. When she fi-
nally left it and walked down the long hill that
sloped to the Lake of Shining Waters it was past
sunset and all Avonlea lay before her in a dreamlike
afterlight — "a haunt of ancient peace." There was
a freshness in the air as of a wind that had blown
over honey-siveet fields of clover. Home lights
twinkled out here and there among the homestead
trees. Beyond lay the sea, misty and purple, with
its haunting, unceasing murmur. The west was a
glory of soft mingled hues, and the pond reflected
them all in still softer shadings. The beauty of it
all thrilled Anne's heart, and she gratefully opened
the gates of her soul to it.

"Dear old world," she murmured, "you are very
lovely, and I am glad to be alive in you."

Half-way down the hill a tall lad came whistling

THE BEND IN THE ROAD 395

out of a gate before the Blythe homestead. It
was Gilbert, and the whistle died on his lips as he
recogmzed Anne. He lifted his cap courteously,
but he would have passed on in silence, if Anne had
not stopped and held out her hand.

"Gilbert," she said, with scarlet cheeks, "I want
to thank you for giving up the school for me It
was very good of you— and I want you to know
that I appreciate it."

Gilbert took the offered hand eagerly.

"It wasn't particularly good of me at all, Anne.
I was pleased to be able to do you some small serv-
ice. Are we going to be friends after this? Have
you really forgiven me my old fault ?"

Anne laughed and tried unsuccessfully to with-
draw her hand.

"I forgave you that day by the pond landing,
although I didn't know it. What a stubborn little
goose I was. I've been — I may as well make a
complete confession — I've been sorry ever since."

"We are going to be the best of friends," said
Gilbert, jubilantly. "We were born to be good
friends, Anne. You've thwarted destiny long
enough. I know we can help each other in many
ways. You are going to keep up your studies,
aren't you? So am I. Come, I'm going to walk
home with you."

Marilla looked curiously at Anne when the latter
entered the kitchen.

"Who was that came up the lane with you,
Anne?"

896 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

"Gilbert Blythe," answered Anne, vexed to find
herself blushing. "I met him on Barry's hill."

"I didn't think you and Gilbert Blythe were such
good friends that you'd stand for half an hour at
the gate talking to him," said Marilla, with a dry
smile.

"We haven't been — we've been good enemies.
But we have decided that it will be much more
sensible to be good friends in future. Were we
really there half an hour? It seemed just a few
minutes. But, you see, we have five years' lost
conversations to catch up with, Marilla."

Anne sat long at her window that night compan-
ioned by a glad content. The wind purred softly
in the cherry boughs, and the mint breaths came up
to her. The stars twinkled over the pointed firs in
the hollow and Diana's light gleamed through the
old gap.

Anne's horizon had closed in since the night she
had sat there after coming home from Queen's ; but
if the path set before her feet was to be narrow she
knew that flowers of quiet happiness would bloom
along it. The joys of sincere work and worthy
aspiration and congenial friendship were to be hers;
nothing could rob her of her birthright of fancy or
her ideal world of dreams. And there was always
the bend in the road!

" 'God's in his heaven, all's right with the
world/ " whispered Anne softly.

THE END.

-.

ri-vp

^I.

L. M. MONTGOMERY

Canadian Edition, eachSS^St SI. 6 9

ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

ANNE OF AVONLEA

and S6nd the pessimist into

ANNE OF THE ISLAND

sh°uld have

KILMENY OF THE ORCHARD

ie heart of Arcadia and brim-full of the sweet ar
.." — Boston Herald.

CHRONICLES OF AVONLEA

"The author shows a wonderful knowledge of humanity, and great insight in the
manner in which some of the scenes are treated. "—Baltimore Sun.

THE STORY GIRL

" The Story Girl is of decidedly unusual conception and interest, and will rival the
author's earlier books in popularity. "—Chicago Western Trade Journal.

THE GOLDEN ROAD

" It is a simple, tender tale, touched to higher notes, now and then, by delicate hints
of romance, tragedy and pathos. Any true'-hearted human being might read this
book with enjoyment, no matter what his or her age, social status, or economic
place." — Chicago Record-Herald.

Other Books at $1.49 each

THE TRAIL OF THE KING'S MEN

By B. Mabel Dunham, author of The Trail of the Conestoga. An excellent story
of the loyalists who came to Canada after the American Revolution.

A SEARCH FOR AMERICA

By Frederick Philip Grove. "This book is a giant." — Punch. "There is a
bigness about his work that no other Canadian novelist has ever equalled." — Fred

Jacob.

TWO GENERATIONS

By Frederick Philip Grove. "May well be ... a landmark in the history of

literature in Canada." — Canadian Bookman.

FRUITS OF THE EARTH

By Frederick Philip Grove. "The book is far, far more than a tale of pioneer

work in Manitoba. It is a piece of history, an invaluable and authentic |.
of the real life on the prairie farm, and as such it must take its place with the com-
paratively few authentic novels of our decade." — Montreal Star.

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