wohnzimmer romantisch gestalten

chapter xix.a concert a catastrophe and a confession "marilla, can i go over to see diana justfor a minute?" asked anne, running breathlessly down from the east gable onefebruary evening. "i don't see what you want to be traipsingabout after dark for," said marilla shortly. "you and diana walked home from schooltogether and then stood down there in the snow for half an hour more, your tonguesgoing the whole blessed time, clickety- clack. so i don't think you're very badly off tosee her again."

"but she wants to see me," pleaded anne."she has something very important to tell me." "how do you know she has?""because she just signaled to me from her window.we have arranged a way to signal with our candles and cardboard. we set the candle on the window sill andmake 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 marillaemphatically.

"and the next thing you'll be setting fireto the curtains with your signaling nonsense." "oh, we're very careful, marilla.and it's so interesting. two flashes mean, 'are you there?'three mean 'yes' and four 'no.' five mean, 'come over as soon as possible,because i have something important to reveal.'diana has just signaled five flashes, and i'm really suffering to know what it is." "well, you needn't suffer any longer," saidmarilla sarcastically. "you can go, but you're to be back here injust ten minutes, remember that."

anne did remember it and was back in thestipulated time, although probably no mortal will ever know just what it cost herto confine the discussion of diana's important communication within the limitsof ten minutes. but at least she had made good use of them."oh, marilla, what do you think? you know tomorrow is diana's birthday. well, her mother told her she could ask meto go home with her from school and stay all night with her. and her cousins are coming over fromnewbridge in a big pung sleigh to go to the debating club concert at the hall tomorrownight.

and they are going to take diana and me tothe concert--if you'll let me go, that is. you will, won't you, marilla?oh, i feel so excited." "you can calm down then, because you're notgoing. you're better at home in your own bed, andas for that club concert, it's all nonsense, and little girls should not beallowed to go out to such places at all." "i'm sure the debating club is a mostrespectable affair," pleaded anne. "i'm not saying it isn't. but you're not going to begin gadding aboutto concerts and staying out all hours of the night.pretty doings for children.

i'm surprised at mrs. barry's letting dianago." "but it's such a very special occasion,"mourned anne, on the verge of tears. "diana has only one birthday in a year. it isn't as if birthdays were commonthings, marilla. prissy andrews is going to recite 'curfewmust not ring tonight.' that is such a good moral piece, marilla,i'm sure it would do me lots of good to hear it. and the choir are going to sing four lovelypathetic songs that are pretty near as good as hymns.

and oh, marilla, the minister is going totake 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 honor of your little annebeing put in the spare-room bed."

"it's an honor you'll have to get alongwithout. go to bed, anne, and don't let me hearanother word out of you." when anne, with tears rolling over hercheeks, had gone sorrowfully upstairs, matthew, who had been apparently soundasleep on the lounge during the whole dialogue, opened his eyes and saiddecidedly: "well now, marilla, i think you ought tolet anne go." "i don't then," retorted marilla. "who's bringing this child up, matthew, youor me?" "well now, you," admitted matthew."don't interfere then."

"well now, i ain't interfering. it ain't interfering to have your ownopinion. and my opinion is that you ought to letanne go." "you'd think i ought to let anne go to themoon if she took the notion, i've no doubt" was marilla's amiable rejoinder."i might have let her spend the night with diana, if that was all. but i don't approve of this concert plan.she'd go there and catch cold like as not, and have her head filled up with nonsenseand excitement. it would unsettle her for a week.

i understand that child's disposition andwhat's good for it better than you, matthew.""i think you ought to let anne go," repeated matthew firmly. argument was not his strong point, butholding fast to his opinion certainly was. marilla gave a gasp of helplessness andtook refuge in silence. the next morning, when anne was washing thebreakfast dishes in the pantry, matthew paused on his way out to the barn to say tomarilla again: "i think you ought to let anne go,marilla." for a moment marilla looked things notlawful to be uttered.

then she yielded to the inevitable and saidtartly: "very well, she can go, since nothingelse'll please you." anne flew out of the pantry, drippingdishcloth in hand. "oh, marilla, marilla, say those blessedwords again." "i guess once is enough to say them. this is matthew's doings and i wash myhands of it. if you catch pneumonia sleeping in astrange 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 waterall 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, although 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 goingto that concert. i never was to a concert in my life, andwhen 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 tobe understood, marilla." anne was too excited to do herself justiceas to lessons that morning in school. gilbert blythe spelled her down in classand left her clear out of sight in mental arithmetic. anne's consequent humiliation was less thanit might have been, however, in view of the concert and the spare-room bed. she and diana talked so constantly about itall day that with a stricter teacher than mr. phillips dire disgrace must inevitablyhave been their portion. anne felt that she could not have borne itif she had not been going to the concert,

for nothing else was discussed that day inschool. the avonlea debating club, which metfortnightly all winter, had had several smaller free entertainments; but this wasto be a big affair, admission ten cents, in aid of the library. the avonlea young people had beenpracticing for weeks, and all the scholars were especially interested in it by reasonof older brothers and sisters who were going to take part. everybody in school over nine years of ageexpected to go, except carrie sloane, whose father shared marilla's opinions aboutsmall girls going out to night concerts.

carrie sloane cried into her grammar allthe afternoon and felt that life was not worth living. for anne the real excitement began with thedismissal of school and increased therefrom in crescendo until it reached to a crash ofpositive ecstasy in the concert itself. they had a "perfectly elegant tea;" andthen came the delicious occupation of dressing in diana's little room upstairs. diana did anne's front hair in the newpompadour style and anne tied diana's bows with the especial knack she possessed; andthey experimented with at least half a dozen different ways of arranging theirback hair.

at last they were ready, cheeks scarlet andeyes glowing with excitement. true, anne could not help a little pangwhen she contrasted her plain black tam and shapeless, tight-sleeved, homemade gray-cloth coat with diana's jaunty fur cap and smart little jacket. but she remembered in time that she had animagination and could use it. then diana's cousins, the murrays fromnewbridge, came; they all crowded into the big pung sleigh, among straw and furryrobes. anne reveled 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 thesnowy hills and deep-blue water of the st. lawrence gulf seemed to rim in the splendorlike a huge bowl of pearl and sapphire brimmed with wine and fire. tinkles of sleigh bells and distantlaughter, that seemed like the mirth of wood elves, came from every quarter. "oh, diana," breathed anne, squeezingdiana'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 itmust show in my looks." "you look awfully nice," said diana, whohaving just received a compliment from one

of her cousins, felt that she ought to passit on. "you've got the loveliest color." the program that night was a series of"thrills" for at least one listener in the audience, and, as anne assured diana, everysucceeding 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 carnationsin her hair--rumor 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 thechoir sang "far above the gentle daisies" anne gazed at the ceiling as if it were frescoed with angels; when sam sloaneproceeded to explain and illustrate "how sockery set a hen" anne laughed untilpeople sitting near her laughed too, more out of sympathy with her than with amusement at a selection that was ratherthreadbare even in avonlea; and when mr. phillips gave mark antony's oration overthe dead body of caesar in the most heart- stirring tones--looking at prissy andrews at the end of every sentence--anne feltthat she could rise and mutiny on the spot

if but one roman citizen led the way.only one number on the program failed to interest her. when gilbert blythe recited "bingen on therhine" anne picked up rhoda murray's library book and read it until he hadfinished, when she sat rigidly stiff and motionless while diana clapped her handsuntil they tingled. it was eleven when they got home, satedwith dissipation, but with the exceeding sweet pleasure of talking it all over stillto come. everybody seemed asleep and the house wasdark and silent. anne and diana tiptoed into the parlor, along narrow room out of which the spare

room opened. it was pleasantly warm and dimly lighted bythe 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?" sighedanne rapturously. "it must be splendid to get up and recitethere. do you suppose we will ever be asked to doit, diana?" "yes, of course, someday.they're always wanting the big scholars to recite. gilbert blythe does often and he's only twoyears older than us.

oh, anne, how could you pretend not tolisten to him? when he came to the line, "there's another, not a sister, he lookedright down at you." "diana," said anne with dignity, "you aremy bosom friend, but i cannot allow even you to speak to me of that person. are you ready for bed?let's run a race and see who'll get to the bed first."the suggestion appealed to diana. the two little white-clad figures flew downthe 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 justhow they got off that bed and out of the room. they only knew that after one frantic rushthey found themselves tiptoeing shiveringly upstairs. "oh, who was it--what was it?" whisperedanne, her teeth chattering with cold and fright."it was aunt josephine," said diana, gasping with laughter.

"oh, anne, it was aunt josephine, howevershe came to be there. oh, and i know she will be furious.it's dreadful--it's really dreadful--but did you ever know anything so funny, anne?" "who is your aunt josephine?""she's father's aunt and she lives in charlottetown.she's awfully old--seventy anyhow--and i don't believe she was ever a little girl. we were expecting her out for a visit, butnot so soon. she's awfully prim and proper and she'llscold 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 theearly breakfast the next morning. mrs. barry smiled kindly at the two littlegirls. "did you have a good time last night? i tried to stay awake until you came home,for i wanted to tell you aunt josephine had come and that you would have to go upstairsafter all, but i was so tired i fell asleep. i hope you didn't disturb your aunt,diana." diana preserved a discreet silence, but sheand anne exchanged furtive smiles of guilty amusement across the table.

anne hurried home after breakfast and soremained in blissful ignorance of the disturbance which presently resulted in thebarry household until the late afternoon, when she went down to mrs. lynde's on anerrand for marilla. "so you and diana nearly frightened poorold miss barry to death last night?" said mrs. lynde severely, but with a twinkle inher eye. "mrs. barry was here a few minutes ago onher way to carmody. she's feeling real worried over it. old miss barry was in a terrible temperwhen she got up this morning--and josephine barry's temper is no joke, i can tell youthat.

she wouldn't speak to diana at all." "it wasn't diana's fault," said annecontritely. "it was mine.i suggested racing to see who would get into bed first." "i knew it!" said mrs. lynde, with theexultation 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 amonth, but she declares she won't stay another day and is going right back to towntomorrow, sunday and all as it is.

she'd have gone today if they could havetaken her. she had promised to pay for a quarter'smusic lessons for diana, but now she is determined to do nothing at all for such atomboy. oh, i guess they had a lively time of itthere this morning. the barrys must feel cut up.old miss barry is rich and they'd like to keep on the good side of her. of course, mrs. barry didn't say just thatto me, but i'm a pretty good judge of human nature, that's what.""i'm such an unlucky girl," mourned anne. "i'm always getting into scrapes myself andgetting 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 andimpulsive, child, that's what. you never stop to think--whatever comesinto your head to say or do you say or do it without a moment's reflection." "oh, but that's the best of it," protestedanne. "something just flashes into your mind, soexciting, and you must out with it. if you stop to think it over you spoil itall. 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, the proverb you need to go by is 'lookbefore 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 thesituation, 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 gigglewith an apprehensive glance over her shoulder at the closed sitting-room door."she was fairly dancing with rage, anne. oh, how she scolded. she said i was the worst-behaved girl sheever saw and that my parents ought to be ashamed of the way they had brought me up.she says she won't stay and i'm sure i don't care. but father and mother do.""why didn't you tell them it was my fault?" demanded anne."it's likely i'd do such a thing, isn't it?" said diana with just scorn.

"i'm no telltale, anne shirley, and anyhowi 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 eatyou alive!" "don't frighten me any more than i amfrightened," 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 ofgood." with this encouragement anne bearded thelion in its den--that is to say, walked resolutely up to the sitting-room door andknocked faintly. a sharp "come in" followed. miss josephine barry, thin, prim, andrigid, was knitting fiercely by the fire, her wrath quite unappeased and her eyessnapping through her gold-rimmed glasses. she wheeled around in her chair, expectingto see diana, and beheld a white-faced girl whose great eyes were brimmed up with amixture of desperate courage and shrinking

terror. "who are you?" demanded miss josephinebarry, without ceremony. "i'm anne of green gables," said the smallvisitor tremulously, clasping her hands with her characteristic gesture, "and i'vecome to confess, if you please." "confess what?" "that it was all my fault about jumpinginto bed on you last night. i suggested it.diana would never have thought of such a thing, i am sure. diana is a very ladylike girl, miss barry.so you must see how unjust it is to blame

her.""oh, i must, hey? i rather think diana did her share of thejumping at least. such carryings on in a respectable house!""but we were only in fun," persisted anne. "i think you ought to forgive us, missbarry, now that we've apologized. and anyhow, please forgive diana and lether 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 getit. if you must be cross with anyone, be crosswith me. i've been so used in my early days tohaving people cross at me that i can endure

it much better than diana can." much of the snap had gone out of the oldlady'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 youthat you were only in fun. little girls never indulged in that kind offun when i was young. you don't know what it is to be awakenedout of a sound sleep, after a long and arduous journey, by two great girls comingbounce down on you." "i don't know, but i can imagine," saidanne eagerly. "i'm sure it must have been verydisturbing.

but then, there is our side of it too. have you any imagination, miss barry?if you have, just put yourself in our place.we didn't know there was anybody in that bed and you nearly scared us to death. it was simply awful the way we felt.and then we couldn't sleep in the spare room after being promised.i suppose you are used to sleeping in spare rooms. but just imagine what you would feel likeif you were a little orphan girl who had never had such an honor."all the snap had gone by this time.

miss barry actually laughed--a sound whichcaused diana, waiting in speechless anxiety in the kitchen outside, to give a greatgasp of relief. "i'm afraid my imagination is a littlerusty--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 annefirmly. "i would like to, because you seem like aninteresting lady, and you might even be a kindred spirit although you don't look verymuch like it.

but it is my duty to go home to missmarilla cuthbert. miss marilla cuthbert is a very kind ladywho has taken me to bring up properly. she is doing her best, but it is verydiscouraging work. you must not blame her because i jumped onthe bed. but before i go i do wish you would tell meif you will forgive diana and stay just as long as you meant to in avonlea." "i think perhaps i will if you will comeover and talk to me occasionally," said miss barry. that evening miss barry gave diana a silverbangle bracelet and told the senior members

of the household that she had unpacked hervalise. "i've made up my mind to stay simply forthe sake of getting better acquainted with that anne-girl," she said frankly."she amuses me, and at my time of life an amusing person is a rarity." marilla's only comment when she heard thestory 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 humor. they became firm friends.when miss barry went away she said: "remember, you anne-girl, when you come totown 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, butshe is. you don't find it right out at first, as inmatthew's case, but after a while you come to see it. kindred spirits are not so scarce as i usedto think. it's splendid to find out there are so manyof 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 throughapril and may in a succession of sweet, fresh, chilly days, with pink sunsets andmiracles of resurrection and growth. the maples in lover's lane were red buddedand little curly ferns pushed up around the dryad's bubble. away up in the barrens, behind mr. silassloane's place, the mayflowers blossomed out, pink and white stars of sweetnessunder their brown leaves. all the school girls and boys had onegolden afternoon gathering them, coming home in the clear, echoing twilight witharms and baskets full of flowery spoil.

"i'm so sorry for people who live in landswhere there are no mayflowers," said anne. "diana says perhaps they have somethingbetter, but there couldn't be anything better than mayflowers, could there,marilla? and diana says if they don't know what theyare like they don't miss them. but i think that is the saddest thing ofall. i think it would be tragic, marilla, not toknow 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 theflowers that died last summer and this is

their heaven.but we had a splendid time today, marilla. we had our lunch down in a big mossy hollowby an old well--such a romantic spot. charlie sloane dared arty gillis to jumpover 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 mayflowers hefound to prissy andrews and i heard him to say 'sweets to the sweet.' he got that out of a book, i know; but itshows he has some imagination. i was offered some mayflowers too, but irejected them with scorn.

i can't tell you the person's name becausei have vowed never to let it cross my lips. we made wreaths of the mayflowers and putthem on our hats; and when the time came to go home we marched in procession down theroad, 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 roadstopped and stared after us. we made a real sensation." "not much wonder!such silly doings!" was marilla's response. after the mayflowers came the violets, andviolet vale was empurpled with them.

anne walked through it on her way to schoolwith reverent steps and worshiping eyes, as if she trod on holy ground. "somehow," she told diana, "when i'm goingthrough here i don't really care whether gil--whether anybody gets ahead of me inclass or not. but when i'm up in school it's alldifferent and i care as much as ever. there's such a lot of different annes inme. i sometimes think that is why i'm such atroublesome person. if i was just the one anne it would be everso much more comfortable, but then it wouldn't be half so interesting."

one june evening, when the orchards werepink blossomed again, when the frogs were singing silverly sweet in the marshes aboutthe head of the lake of shining waters, and the air was full of the savor of clover fields and balsamic fir woods, anne wassitting by her gable window. she had been studying her lessons, but ithad grown too dark to see the book, so she had fallen into wide-eyed reverie, lookingout past the boughs of the snow queen, once more bestarred with its tufts of blossom. in all essential respects the little gablechamber was unchanged. the walls were as white, the pincushion ashard, the chairs as stiffly and yellowly

upright as ever. yet the whole character of the room wasaltered. it was full of a new vital, pulsingpersonality that seemed to pervade it and to be quite independent of schoolgirl booksand dresses and ribbons, and even of the cracked blue jug full of apple blossoms onthe table. it was as if all the dreams, sleeping andwaking, of its vivid occupant had taken a visible although unmaterial form and hadtapestried the bare room with splendid filmy tissues of rainbow and moonshine. presently marilla came briskly in with someof anne's freshly ironed school aprons.

she hung them over a chair and sat downwith a short sigh. she had had one of her headaches thatafternoon, and although the pain had gone she felt weak and "tuckered out," as sheexpressed it. anne looked at her with eyes limpid withsympathy. "i do truly wish i could have had theheadache in your place, marilla. i would have endured it joyfully for yoursake." "i guess you did your part in attending tothe work and letting me rest," said marilla. "you seem to have got on fairly well andmade fewer mistakes than usual.

of course it wasn't exactly necessary tostarch matthew's handkerchiefs! and most people when they put a pie in theoven to warm up for dinner take it out and eat it when it gets hot instead of leavingit to be burned to a crisp. but that doesn't seem to be your wayevidently." headaches always left marilla somewhatsarcastic. "oh, i'm so sorry," said anne penitently. "i never thought about that pie from themoment i put it in the oven till now, although i felt instinctively that therewas something missing on the dinner table. i was firmly resolved, when you left me incharge 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 princessshut up in a lonely tower with a handsome knight riding to my rescue on a coal-blacksteed. 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 tothink 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 thebrook flows right around it. at last it struck me that it would besplendid to call it victoria island because

we found it on the queen's birthday. both diana and i are very loyal.but i'm sorry about that pie and the handkerchiefs.i wanted to be extra good today because it's an anniversary. do you remember what happened this day lastyear, 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 important toyou.

i've been here for a year and i've been sohappy. of course, i've had my troubles, but onecan 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, iwant 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 goodness 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, anneshirley? i want that pattern to cut out your newapron 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 washaunted. 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 harrowingthings. there's a white lady walks along the brookjust about this time of the night and wrings her hands and utters wailing cries. she appears when there is to be a death inthe family. and the ghost of a little murdered childhaunts the corner up by idlewild; it creeps

up behind you and lays its cold fingers onyour hand--so. oh, marilla, it gives me a shudder to thinkof it. and there's a headless man stalks up anddown the path and skeletons glower at you between the boughs. oh, marilla, i wouldn't go through thehaunted wood after dark now for anything. i'd be sure that white things would reachout from behind the trees and grab me." "did ever anyone hear the like!" ejaculatedmarilla, who had listened in dumb amazement. "anne shirley, do you mean to tell me youbelieve 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 grandmothersaw his grandfather driving home the cows one night after he'd been buried for ayear. you know charlie sloane's grandmotherwouldn't tell a story for anything.

she's a very religious woman. and mrs. thomas's father was pursued homeone 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 hisbrother 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 thisfashion again. i've had my doubts about that imaginationof yours right along, and if this is going

to be the outcome of it, i won'tcountenance any such doings. you'll go right over to barry's, and you'llgo 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--anddid, for her terror was very real. her imagination had run away with her andshe held the spruce grove in mortal dread after nightfall. but marilla was inexorable. she marched the shrinking ghost-seer downto the spring and ordered her to proceed

straightaway over the bridge and into thedusky retreats of wailing ladies and headless specters beyond. "oh, marilla, how can you be so cruel?"sobbed anne. "what would you feel like if a white thingdid 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 andwent shuddering up the horrible dim path

beyond.anne never forgot that walk. bitterly did she repent the license she hadgiven to her imagination. the goblins of her fancy lurked in everyshadow about her, reaching out their cold, fleshless hands to grasp the terrifiedsmall girl who had called them into being. a white strip of birch bark blowing up fromthe hollow over the brown floor of the grove made her heart stand still. the long-drawn wail of two old boughsrubbing 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 fieldshe fled across it as if pursued by an army of white things, and arrived at the barrykitchen door so out of breath that she could hardly gasp out her request for theapron pattern. diana was away so that she had no excuse tolinger. the dreadful return journey had to befaced. anne went back over it with shut eyes,preferring to take the risk of dashing her brains out among the boughs to that ofseeing a white thing. when she finally stumbled over the logbridge she drew one long shivering breath of relief."well, so nothing caught you?" said marilla

unsympathetically. "oh, mar--marilla," chattered anne, "i'llb-b-be contt-tented with c-c-commonplace places after this." chapter xxi.a new departure in flavorings "dear me, there is nothing but meetings andpartings in this world, as mrs. lynde says," remarked anne plaintively, puttingher slate and books down on the kitchen table on the last day of june and wipingher red eyes with a very damp handkerchief. "wasn't it fortunate, marilla, that i tookan extra handkerchief to school today? i had a presentiment that it would beneeded."

"i never thought you were so fond of mr.phillips that you'd require two handkerchiefs to dry your tears justbecause he was going away," said marilla. "i don't think i was crying because i wasreally 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 hatedmr. phillips, but just as soon as he got up to make his farewell speech she burst intotears. then all the girls began to cry, one afterthe other. i tried to hold out, marilla.

i tried to remember the time mr. phillipsmade me sit with gil--with a, boy; and the time he spelled my name without an e on theblackboard; and how he said i was the worst dunce he ever saw at geometry and laughed at my spelling; and all the times he hadbeen so horrid and sarcastic; but somehow i couldn't, marilla, and i just had to crytoo. jane andrews has been talking for a monthabout how glad she'd be when mr. phillips went away and she declared she'd never sheda tear. well, she was worse than any of us and hadto borrow a handkerchief from her brother-- of course the boys didn't cry--because shehadn'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 usto 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 anddrawn pictures of him on my slate and made fun of him and prissy. i can tell you i wished i'd been a modelpupil like minnie andrews. she hadn't anything on her conscience.the girls cried all the way home from

school. carrie sloane kept saying every fewminutes, 'the time has come for us to part,' and that would start us off againwhenever we were in any danger of cheering up. i do feel dreadfully sad, marilla.but one can't feel quite in the depths of despair with two months' vacation beforethem, can they, marilla? and besides, we met the new minister andhis 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, couldi?

his wife is very pretty. not exactly regally lovely, of course--itwouldn't do, i suppose, for a minister to have a regally lovely wife, because itmight set a bad example. mrs. lynde says the minister's wife over atnewbridge sets a very bad example because she dresses so fashionably. our new minister's wife was dressed in bluemuslin with lovely puffed sleeves and a hat trimmed with roses. jane andrews said she thought puffedsleeves were too worldly for a minister's wife, but i didn't make any suchuncharitable remark, marilla, because i

know what it is to long for puffed sleeves. besides, she's only been a minister's wifefor 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'sthat evening, was actuated by any motive save her avowed one of returning thequilting frames she had borrowed the preceding winter, it was an amiable weakness shared by most of the avonleapeople. many a thing mrs. lynde had lent, sometimesnever expecting to see it again, came home

that night in charge of the borrowersthereof. a new minister, and moreover a ministerwith a wife, was a lawful object of curiosity in a quiet little countrysettlement where sensations were few and far between. old mr. bentley, the minister whom anne hadfound lacking in imagination, had been pastor of avonlea for eighteen years. he was a widower when he came, and awidower 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 resignedhis charge and departed amid the regrets of his people, most of whom had the affectionborn of long intercourse for their good old minister in spite of his shortcomings as anorator. since then the avonlea church had enjoyed avariety of religious dissipation in listening to the many and variouscandidates and "supplies" who came sunday after sunday to preach on trial. these stood or fell by the judgment of thefathers and mothers in israel; but a certain small, red-haired girl who satmeekly in the corner of the old cuthbert pew also had her opinions about them and

discussed 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 runaway with him just as i did mine in the matter of the haunted wood.besides, mrs. lynde says his theology wasn't sound. mr. gresham was a very good man and a veryreligious man, but he told too many funny

stories and made the people laugh inchurch; he was undignified, and you must have some dignity about a minister, mustn'tyou, matthew? i thought mr. marshall was decidedlyattractive; but mrs. lynde says he isn't married, or even engaged, because she madespecial inquiries about him, and she says it would never do to have a young unmarried minister in avonlea, because he might marryin the congregation and that would make trouble.mrs. lynde is a very farseeing woman, isn't she, matthew? i'm very glad they've called mr. allan.i liked him because his sermon was

interesting and he prayed as if he meant itand not just as if he did it because he was in the habit of it. mrs. lynde says he isn't perfect, but shesays she supposes we couldn't expect a perfect minister for seven hundred andfifty dollars a year, and anyhow his theology is sound because she questioned him thoroughly on all the points ofdoctrine. and she knows his wife's people and theyare most respectable and the women are all good housekeepers. mrs. lynde says that sound doctrine in theman and good housekeeping in the woman make

an ideal combination for a minister'sfamily." the new minister and his wife were a young,pleasant-faced couple, still on their honeymoon, and full of all good andbeautiful enthusiasms for their chosen lifework. avonlea opened its heart to them from thestart. old and young liked the frank, cheerfulyoung man with his high ideals, and the bright, gentle little lady who assumed themistress-ship of the manse. with mrs. allan anne fell promptly andwholeheartedly in love. she had discovered another kindred spirit."mrs. allan is perfectly lovely," she

announced one sunday afternoon. "she's taken our class and she's a splendidteacher. she said right away she didn't think it wasfair for the teacher to ask all the questions, and you know, marilla, that isexactly what i've always thought. she said we could ask her any question weliked and i asked ever so many. i'm good at asking questions, marilla.""i believe you" was marilla's emphatic comment. "nobody else asked any except ruby gillis,and she asked if there was to be a sunday- school picnic this summer.

i didn't think that was a very properquestion to ask because it hadn't any connection with the lesson--the lesson wasabout daniel in the lions' den--but mrs. allan just smiled and said she thoughtthere would be. mrs. allan has a lovely smile; she has suchexquisite dimples in her cheeks. i wish i had dimples in my cheeks, marilla. i'm not half so skinny as i was when i camehere, but i have no dimples yet. if i had perhaps i could influence peoplefor good. mrs. allan said we ought always to try toinfluence 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 aboutmr. 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 danceand sing and of course it wouldn't be dignified in a minister's wife. but i can just feel she's glad she's achristian and that she'd be one even if she could get to heaven without it." "i suppose we must have mr. and mrs. allanup to tea someday soon," said marilla reflectively."they've been most everywhere but here. let me see. next wednesday would be a good time to havethem. but don't say a word to matthew about it,for if he knew they were coming he'd find

some excuse to be away that day. he'd got so used to mr. bentley he didn'tmind him, but he's going to find it hard to get acquainted with a new minister, and anew minister's wife will frighten him to death." "i'll be as secret as the dead," assuredanne. "but oh, marilla, will you let me make acake 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 monday and tuesday great preparations wenton at green gables.

having the minister and his wife to tea wasa serious and important undertaking, and marilla was determined not to be eclipsedby any of the avonlea housekeepers. anne was wild with excitement and delight. she talked it all over with diana tuesdaynight in the twilight, as they sat on the big red stones by the dryad's bubble andmade rainbows in the water with little twigs dipped in fir balsam. "everything is ready, diana, except my cakewhich i'm to make in the morning, and the baking-powder biscuits which marilla willmake just before teatime. i assure you, diana, that marilla and ihave had a busy two days of it.

it's such a responsibility having aminister's family to tea. i never went through such an experiencebefore. you should just see our pantry.it's a sight to behold. we're going to have jellied chicken andcold tongue. we're to have two kinds of jelly, red andyellow, and whipped cream and lemon pie, and cherry pie, and three kinds of cookies,and fruit cake, and marilla's famous yellow plum preserves that she keeps especially for ministers, and pound cake and layercake, and biscuits as aforesaid; and new bread and old both, in case the minister isdyspeptic and can't eat new.

mrs. lynde says ministers are dyspeptic,but i don't think mr. allan has been a minister long enough for it to have had abad effect on him. i just grow cold when i think of my layercake. oh, diana, what if it shouldn't be good! i dreamed last night that i was chased allaround 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 madethat we had for lunch in idlewild two weeks ago was perfectly elegant."

"yes; but cakes have such a terrible habitof turning out bad just when you especially want them to be good," sighed anne, settinga particularly well-balsamed twig afloat. "however, i suppose i shall just have totrust to providence and be careful to put in the flour.oh, look, diana, what a lovely rainbow! do you suppose the dryad will come outafter we go away and take it for a scarf?" "you know there is no such thing as adryad," said diana. diana's mother had found out about thehaunted wood and had been decidedly angry over it. as a result diana had abstained from anyfurther imitative flights of imagination

and did not think it prudent to cultivate aspirit of belief even in harmless dryads. "but it's so easy to imagine there is,"said anne. "every night before i go to bed, i look outof my window and wonder if the dryad is really sitting here, combing her locks withthe spring for a mirror. sometimes i look for her footprints in thedew in the morning. oh, diana, don't give up your faith in thedryad!" wednesday morning came. anne got up at sunrise because she was tooexcited to sleep. she had caught a severe cold in the head byreason of her dabbling in the spring on the

preceding evening; but nothing short ofabsolute pneumonia could have quenched her interest in culinary matters that morning. after breakfast she proceeded to make hercake. when she finally shut the oven door upon itshe drew a long breath. "i'm sure i haven't forgotten anything thistime, 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 wheneverything is so adulterated.

mrs. lynde says the government ought totake the matter up, but she says we'll never see the day when a tory governmentwill do it. marilla, what if that cake doesn't rise?" "we'll have plenty without it" wasmarilla's unimpassioned way of looking at the subject. the cake did rise, however, and came out ofthe oven as light and feathery as golden foam. anne, flushed with delight, clapped ittogether with layers of ruby jelly and, in imagination, saw mrs. allan eating it andpossibly asking for another piece!

"you'll be using the best tea set, ofcourse, marilla," she said. "can i fix the table with ferns and wildroses?" "i think that's all nonsense," sniffedmarilla. "in my opinion it's the eatables thatmatter and not flummery decorations." "mrs. barry had her table decorated," saidanne, who was not entirely guiltless of the wisdom of the serpent, "and the ministerpaid her an elegant compliment. he said it was a feast for the eye as wellas the palate." "well, do as you like," said marilla, whowas quite determined not to be surpassed by mrs. barry or anybody else.

"only mind you leave enough room for thedishes and the food." anne laid herself out to decorate in amanner and after a fashion that should leave mrs. barry's nowhere. having abundance of roses and ferns and avery artistic taste of her own, she made that tea table such a thing of beauty thatwhen the minister and his wife sat down to it they exclaimed in chorus over itloveliness. "it's anne's doings," said marilla, grimlyjust; and anne felt that mrs. allan's approving smile was almost too muchhappiness for this world. matthew was there, having been inveigledinto the party only goodness and anne knew

how. he had been in such a state of shyness andnervousness that marilla had given him up in despair, but anne took him in hand sosuccessfully that he now sat at the table in his best clothes and white collar andtalked to the minister not uninterestingly. he never said a word to mrs. allan, butthat perhaps was not to be expected. all went merry as a marriage bell untilanne's layer cake was passed. mrs. allan, having already been helped to abewildering variety, declined it. but marilla, seeing the disappointment onanne's face, said smilingly: "oh, you must take a piece of this, mrs.allan.

anne made it on purpose for you." "in that case i must sample it," laughedmrs. allan, helping herself to a plump triangle, as did also the minister andmarilla. mrs. allan took a mouthful of hers and amost peculiar expression crossed her face; not a word did she say, however, butsteadily ate away at it. marilla saw the expression and hastened totaste the cake. "anne shirley!" she exclaimed, "what onearth 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.mr. allan, don't try to eat it. anne, taste it yourself.what flavoring did you use?" "vanilla," said anne, her face scarlet withmortification 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 youused." anne fled to the pantry and returned with asmall bottle partially filled with a brown

liquid and labeled yellowly, "bestvanilla." marilla took it, uncorked it, smelled it. "mercy on us, anne, you've flavored thatcake with anodyne liniment. i broke the liniment bottle last week andpoured what was left into an old empty vanilla bottle. i suppose it's partly my fault--i shouldhave warned you--but for pity's sake why couldn't you have smelled it?"anne dissolved into tears under this double disgrace. "i couldn't--i had such a cold!" and withthis she fairly fled to the gable chamber,

where she cast herself on the bed and weptas one who refuses to be comforted. presently a light step sounded on thestairs and somebody entered the room. "oh, marilla," sobbed anne, without lookingup, "i'm disgraced forever. i shall never be able to live this down. it will get out--things always do get outin avonlea. diana will ask me how my cake turned outand i shall have to tell her the truth. i shall always be pointed at as the girlwho flavored a cake with anodyne liniment. gil--the boys in school will never get overlaughing at it. oh, marilla, if you have a spark ofchristian pity don't tell me that i must go

down and wash the dishes after this. i'll wash them when the minister and hiswife 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 girlwho 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 standingby her bed, surveying her with laughing

eyes. "my dear little girl, you mustn't cry likethis," 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 amistake," said anne forlornly. "and i wanted to have that cake so nice foryou, mrs. allan." "yes, i know, dear. and i assure you i appreciate your kindnessand thoughtfulness just as much as if it had turned out all right.

now, you mustn't cry any more, but comedown 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 muchinterested in flowers." anne permitted herself to be led down andcomforted, reflecting that it was really providential that mrs. allan was a kindredspirit. nothing more was said about the linimentcake, and when the guests went away anne found that she had enjoyed the evening morethan could have been expected, considering that terrible incident.

nevertheless, she sighed deeply."marilla, isn't it nice to think that tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes init yet?" "i'll warrant you'll make plenty in it,"said marilla. "i never saw your beat for making mistakes,anne." "yes, and well i know it," admitted annemournfully. "but have you ever noticed one encouragingthing about me, marilla? i never make the same mistake twice." "i don't know as that's much benefit whenyou're always making new ones." "oh, don't you see, marilla?

there must be a limit to the mistakes oneperson 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 caketo the pigs," said marilla. "it isn't fit for any human to eat, noteven jerry boute." chapter xxii.anne is invited out to tea "and what are your eyes popping out of yourhead about. now?" asked marilla, when anne had justcome in from a run to the post office. "have you discovered another kindredspirit?" excitement hung around anne like a garment,shone in her eyes, kindled in every

feature. she had come dancing up the lane, like awind-blown sprite, through the mellow sunshine and lazy shadows of the augustevening. "no, marilla, but oh, what do you think? i am invited to tea at the manse tomorrowafternoon! mrs. allan left the letter for me at thepost 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 forever among mychoicest treasures." "mrs. allan told me she meant to have allthe members of her sunday-school class to tea in turn," said marilla, regarding thewonderful 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," as she was,the pleasures and pains of life came to her with trebled intensity. marilla felt this and was vaguely troubledover it, realizing that the ups and downs

of existence would probably bear hardly onthis impulsive soul and not sufficiently understanding that the equally great capacity for delight might more thancompensate. therefore marilla conceived it to be herduty to drill anne into a tranquil uniformity of disposition as impossible andalien to her as to a dancing sunbeam in one of the brook shallows. she did not make much headway, as shesorrowfully admitted to herself. the downfall of some dear hope or planplunged anne into "deeps of affliction." the fulfillment thereof exalted her todizzy realms of delight.

marilla had almost begun to despair of everfashioning this waif of the world into her model little girl of demure manners andprim deportment. neither would she have believed that shereally liked anne much better as she was. anne went to bed that night speechless withmisery because matthew had said the wind was round northeast and he feared it wouldbe a rainy day tomorrow. the rustle of the poplar leaves about thehouse worried her, it sounded so like pattering raindrops, and the full, farawayroar of the gulf, to which she listened delightedly at other times, loving its strange, sonorous, haunting rhythm, nowseemed like a prophecy of storm and

disaster to a small maiden who particularlywanted a fine day. anne thought that the morning would nevercome. but all things have an end, even nightsbefore the day on which you are invited to take tea at the manse. the morning, in spite of matthew'spredictions, was fine and anne's spirits soared to their highest. "oh, marilla, there is something in metoday that makes me just love everybody i see," she exclaimed as she washed thebreakfast 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, marilla, 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 studyingthe rules given in the etiquette department of the family herald ever since i camehere. i'm so afraid i'll do something silly orforget to do something i should do. would it be good manners to take a secondhelping of anything if you wanted to very

much?""the trouble with you, anne, is that you're thinking too much about yourself. you should just think of mrs. allan andwhat would be nicest and most agreeable to her," said marilla, hitting for once in herlife 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 visitwithout 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 marillaall about it happily, sitting on the big red-sandstone slab at the kitchen door withher tired curly head in marilla's gingham lap. a cool wind was blowing down over the longharvest fields from the rims of firry western hills and whistling through thepoplars. one clear star hung over the orchard andthe fireflies were flitting over in lover's lane, in and out among the ferns andrustling boughs. anne watched them as she talked and somehowfelt that wind and stars and fireflies were

all tangled up together into somethingunutterably sweet and enchanting. "oh, marilla, i've had a most fascinatingtime. i feel that i have not lived in vain and ishall always feel like that even if i should never be invited to tea at a manseagain. when i got there mrs. allan met me at thedoor. she was dressed in the sweetest dress ofpale-pink organdy, with dozens of frills and elbow sleeves, and she looked just likea seraph. i really think i'd like to be a minister'swife when i grow up, marilla. a minister mightn't mind my red hairbecause he wouldn't be thinking of such

worldly things. but then of course one would have to benaturally good and i'll never be that, so i suppose there's no use in thinking aboutit. 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 cannever 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 hardought to count for something? mrs. allan is one of the naturally goodpeople.

i love her passionately. you know there are some people, likematthew 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 becausethey know so much and are such active workers in the church, but you have to keepreminding yourself of it all the time or else you forget. there was another little girl at the manseto tea, from the white sands sunday school. her name was laurette bradley, and she wasa very nice little girl.

not exactly a kindred spirit, you know, butstill very nice. we had an elegant tea, and i think i keptall the rules of etiquette pretty well. after tea mrs. allan played and sang andshe got lauretta and me to sing too. mrs. allan says i have a good voice and shesays i must sing in the sunday-school choir after this. you can't think how i was thrilled at themere thought. i've longed so to sing in the sunday-schoolchoir, as diana does, but i feared it was an honor i could never aspire to. lauretta had to go home early because thereis a big concert in the white sands hotel

tonight and her sister is to recite at it. lauretta says that the americans at thehotel give a concert every fortnight in aid of the charlottetown hospital, and they asklots of the white sands people to recite. lauretta said she expected to be askedherself someday. 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. thomasand the twins and katie maurice and violetta and coming to green gables and mytroubles over geometry. and would you believe it, marilla?

mrs. allan told me she was a dunce atgeometry too. you don't know how that encouraged me.mrs. lynde came to the manse just before i left, and what do you think, marilla? the trustees have hired a new teacher andit's a lady. her name is miss muriel stacy.isn't that a romantic name? mrs. lynde says they've never had a femaleteacher in avonlea before and she thinks it is a dangerous innovation. but i think it will be splendid to have alady teacher, and i really don't see how i'm going to live through the two weeksbefore school begins.

i'm so impatient to see her." chapter xxiii.anne comes to grief in an affair of honor anne had to live through more than twoweeks, as it happened. almost a month having elapsed since theliniment cake episode, it was high time for her to get into fresh trouble of some sort,little mistakes, such as absentmindedly emptying a pan of skim milk into a basket of yarn balls in the pantry instead of intothe pigs' bucket, and walking clean over the edge of the log bridge into the brookwhile wrapped in imaginative reverie, not really being worth counting.

a week after the tea at the manse dianabarry gave a party. "small and select," anne assured marilla."just the girls in our class." they had a very good time and nothinguntoward 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 whichmight present itself. this presently took the form of "daring."daring was the fashionable amusement among the avonlea small fry just then. it had begun among the boys, but soonspread to the girls, and all the silly things that were done in avonlea thatsummer because the doers thereof were

"dared" to do them would fill a book bythemselves. first of all carrie sloane dared rubygillis 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 ofher mother before her eyes if she should tear her new muslin dress, nimbly did, tothe discomfiture of the aforesaid carrie sloane. then josie pye dared jane andrews to hop onher left leg around the garden without stopping once or putting her right foot tothe ground; which jane andrews gamely tried

to do, but gave out at the third corner andhad to confess herself defeated. josie's triumph being rather morepronounced than good taste permitted, anne shirley dared her to walk along the top ofthe board fence which bounded the garden to the east. now, to "walk" board fences requires moreskill and steadiness of head and heel than one might suppose who has never tried it. but josie pye, if deficient in somequalities that make for popularity, had at least a natural and inborn gift, dulycultivated, for walking board fences. josie walked the barry fence with an airyunconcern 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 thingsthemselves in their efforts to walk fences. josie descended from her perch, flushedwith victory, and darted a defiant glance at anne.anne tossed her red braids. "i don't think it's such a very wonderfulthing to walk a little, low, board fence," she said."i knew a girl in marysville who could walk the ridgepole of a roof." "i don't believe it," said josie flatly."i don't believe anybody could walk a

ridgepole.you couldn't, anyhow." "couldn't i?" cried anne rashly. "then i dare you to do it," said josiedefiantly. "i dare you to climb up there and walk theridgepole of mr. barry's kitchen roof." anne turned pale, but there was clearlyonly one thing to be done. she walked toward the house, where a ladderwas leaning against the kitchen roof. all the fifth-class girls said, "oh!"partly in excitement, 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 doanything so dangerous." "i must do it.my honor is at stake," said anne solemnly. "i shall walk that ridgepole, diana, orperish in the attempt. if i am killed you are to have my pearlbead ring." anne climbed the ladder amid breathlesssilence, gained the ridgepole, balanced herself uprightly on that precariousfooting, and started to walk along it, dizzily conscious that she was uncomfortably high up in the world and thatwalking ridgepoles 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 balance,stumbled, staggered, and fell, sliding down over the sun-baked roof and crashing off itthrough the tangle of virginia creeper beneath--all before the dismayed circle below could give a simultaneous, terrifiedshriek. if anne had tumbled off the roof on theside up which she had ascended diana would probably have fallen heir to the pearl beadring 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 falltherefrom was a much less serious thing.

nevertheless, when diana and the othergirls had rushed frantically around the house--except ruby gillis, who remained asif rooted to the ground and went into hysterics--they found anne lying all white and limp among the wreck and ruin of thevirginia creeper. "anne, are you killed?" shrieked diana,throwing herself on her knees beside her friend. "oh, anne, dear anne, speak just one wordto me and tell me if you're killed." to the immense relief of all the girls, andespecially of josie pye, who, in spite of lack of imagination, had been seized withhorrible visions of a future branded as the

girl who was the cause of anne shirley's early and tragic death, anne sat dizzily upand answered uncertainly: "no, diana, i am not killed, but i think iam 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 toher feet, but sank back again with a sharp little cry of pain."what's the matter? where have you hurt yourself?" demandedmrs. 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 thegarden." marilla was out in the orchard picking apanful of summer apples when she saw mr. barry coming over the log bridge and up theslope, with mrs. barry beside him and a whole procession of little girls trailingafter him. in his arms he carried anne, whose head laylimply against his shoulder. at that moment marilla had a revelation.

in the sudden stab of fear that pierced hervery 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 downthe slope that anne was dearer to her than anything else on earth. "mr. barry, what has happened to her?" shegasped, more white and shaken than the self-contained, sensible marilla had beenfor many years. anne herself answered, lifting her head. "don't be very frightened, marilla.i was walking the ridgepole 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 dosomething of the sort when i let you go to that party," said marilla, sharp andshrewish in her very relief. "bring her in here, mr. barry, and lay heron the sofa. mercy me, the child has gone and fainted!"it was quite true. overcome by the pain of her injury, annehad one more of her wishes granted to her. she had fainted dead away. matthew, hastily summoned from the harvestfield, was straightway dispatched for the

doctor, who in due time came, to discoverthat 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 waslying, 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 alamp. "and that is just why you should be sorryfor me," said anne, "because the thought that it is all my own fault is what makesit so hard.

if i could blame it on anybody i would feelso much better. but what would you have done, marilla, ifyou had been dared to walk a ridgepole?" "i'd have stayed on good firm ground andlet 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 dreadfully when hewas setting my ankle. i won't be able to go around for six orseven weeks and i'll miss the new lady teacher. she won't be new any more by the time i'mable to go to school. and gil--everybody will get ahead of me inclass. oh, i am an afflicted mortal. but i'll try to bear it all bravely if onlyyou won't be cross with me, marilla." "there, there, i'm not cross," saidmarilla.

"you're an unlucky child, there's no doubtabout 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 animagination?" said anne. "it will help me through splendidly, iexpect. what do people who haven't any imaginationdo when they break their bones, do you suppose, marilla?" anne had good reason to bless herimagination 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 passedwithout one or more of the schoolgirls

dropping in to bring her flowers and booksand 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 stilli 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 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 ofsuperintendent bell ever being a boy. even my imagination has its limits, for ican't imagine that. when i try to imagine him as a boy i seehim with gray whiskers and spectacles, just

as he looks in sunday school, only small.now, it's so easy to imagine mrs. allan as a little girl. mrs. allan has been to see me fourteentimes. isn't that something to be proud of,marilla? when a minister's wife has so many claimson her time! she is such a cheerful person to have visityou, too. she never tells you it's your own fault andshe hopes you'll be a better girl on account of it. mrs. lynde always told me that when shecame to see me; and she said it in a kind

of way that made me feel she might hope i'dbe 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 meto walk a ridgepole. if i had been killed she would had to carrya 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 toschool for i've heard such exciting things about the new teacher.the girls all think she is perfectly sweet.

diana says she has the loveliest fair curlyhair and such fascinating eyes. she dresses beautifully, and her sleevepuffs are bigger than anybody else's in avonlea. every other friday afternoon she hasrecitations and everybody has to say a piece or take part in a dialogue.oh, it's just glorious to think of it. josie pye says she hates it but that isjust because josie has so little imagination. diana and ruby gillis and jane andrews arepreparing a dialogue, called 'a morning visit,' for next friday.

and the friday afternoons they don't haverecitations miss stacy takes them all to the woods for a 'field' day and they studyferns and flowers and birds. and they have physical culture exercisesevery morning and evening. mrs. lynde says she never heard of suchgoings on and it all comes of having a lady but i think it must be splendid and ibelieve 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 hasn't injured yourtongue at all." chapter xxiv.miss stacy and her pupils get up a concert

it was october again when anne was ready togo back to school--a glorious october, all red and gold, with mellow mornings when thevalleys were filled 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 fieldsglistened like cloth of silver and there were such heaps of rustling leaves in thehollows of many-stemmed woods to run crisply through. the birch path was a canopy of yellow andthe ferns were sear and brown all along it. there was a tang in the very air thatinspired the hearts of small maidens

tripping, unlike snails, swiftly andwillingly to school; and it was jolly to be back again at the little brown desk beside diana, with ruby gillis nodding across theaisle and carrie sloane sending up notes and julia bell passing a "chew" of gum downfrom the back seat. anne drew a long breath of happiness as shesharpened her pencil and arranged her picture cards in her desk.life was certainly very interesting. in the new teacher she found another trueand helpful friend. miss stacy was a bright, sympathetic youngwoman with the happy gift of winning and holding the affections of her pupils andbringing out the best that was in them

mentally and morally. anne expanded like a flower under thiswholesome influence and carried home to the admiring matthew and the critical marillaglowing accounts of schoolwork and aims. "i love miss stacy with my whole heart,marilla. she is so ladylike and she has such a sweetvoice. when she pronounces my name i feelinstinctively that she's spelling it with an e.we had recitations this afternoon. i just wish you could have been there tohear me recite 'mary, queen of scots.' i just put my whole soul into it.

ruby gillis told me coming home that theway i said the line, 'now for my father's arm,' she said, 'my woman's heartfarewell,' just made her blood run cold." "well now, you might recite it for me someof 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 youhave a whole schoolful 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 coldto see the boys climbing to the very tops of those big trees on bell's hill aftercrows' nests last friday," said marilla. "i wonder at miss stacy for encouragingit." "but we wanted a crow's nest for naturestudy," 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." "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 atgeometry? although i'm really beginning to seethrough it a little, too. miss stacy makes it so clear. still, i'll never be good at it and iassure you it is a humbling reflection. but i love writing compositions. mostly miss stacy lets us choose our ownsubjects; 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 splendid to be remarkable andhave 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 trainednurse 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 wouldhave 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 promotedigestion."

"promote fiddlesticks!" said marilla, whohonestly thought it was all nonsense. but all the field afternoons and recitationfridays and physical culture contortions paled before a project which miss stacybrought forward in november. this was that the scholars of avonleaschool should get up a concert and hold it in the hall on christmas night, for thelaudable purpose of helping to pay for a schoolhouse flag. the pupils one and all taking graciously tothis plan, the preparations for a program were begun at once. and of all the excited performers-electnone was so excited as anne shirley, who

threw herself into the undertaking heartand soul, hampered as she was by marilla's disapproval. marilla thought it all rank foolishness."it's just filling your heads up with nonsense and taking time that ought to beput on your lessons," she grumbled. "i don't approve of children's getting upconcerts and racing about to practices. it makes them vain and forward and fond ofgadding." "but think of the worthy object," pleadedanne. "a flag will cultivate a spirit ofpatriotism, marilla." "fudge!

there's precious little patriotism in thethoughts 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 getting up aconcert. we're going to have six choruses and dianais to sing a solo. i'm in two dialogues--'the society for thesuppression of gossip' and 'the fairy queen.'the boys are going to have a dialogue too. and i'm to have two recitations, marilla. i just tremble when i think of it, but it'sa 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, alldraped in white with flowing hair. i'm to be hope, with my hands clasped--so--and my eyes uplifted. i'm going to practice my recitations in thegarret. don't be alarmed if you hear me groaning. i have to groan heartrendingly in one ofthem, 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 to be the fairy queen.that would have been ridiculous, for who

ever heard of a fairy queen as fat asjosie? fairy queens must be slender. jane andrews is to be the queen and i am tobe one of her maids of honor. josie says she thinks a red-haired fairy isjust 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 myhair and ruby gillis is going to lend me her slippers because i haven't any of myown. it's necessary for fairies to haveslippers, you know. you couldn't imagine a fairy wearing boots,could you?

especially with copper toes? we are going to decorate the hall withcreeping spruce and fir mottoes with pink tissue-paper roses in them. and we are all to march in two by two afterthe audience is seated, while emma white plays a march on the organ. oh, marilla, i know you are not soenthusiastic about it as i am, but don't you hope your little anne will distinguishherself?" "all i hope is that you'll behave yourself. i'll be heartily glad when all this fuss isover and you'll be able to settle down.

you are simply good for nothing just nowwith your head stuffed full of dialogues and groans and tableaus. as for your tongue, it's a marvel it's notclean worn out." anne sighed and betook herself to the backyard, over which a young new moon was shining through the leafless poplar boughsfrom an apple-green western sky, and where matthew was splitting wood. anne perched herself on a block and talkedthe concert over with him, sure of an appreciative and sympathetic listener inthis instance at least. "well now, i reckon it's going to be apretty good concert.

and i expect you'll do your part fine," hesaid, 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 andoft that he had nothing to do with bringing her up. that was marilla's exclusive duty; if ithad been his he would have been worried over frequent conflicts between inclinationand said duty. as it was, he was free to, "spoil anne"--marilla's phrasing--as much as he liked. but it was not such a bad arrangement afterall; 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 thetwilight of a cold, gray december evening, and had sat down in the woodbox corner totake off his heavy boots, unconscious of the fact that anne and a bevy of her schoolmates were having a practice of "thefairy queen" in the sitting room. presently they came trooping through thehall and out into the kitchen, laughing and chattering gaily.

they did not see matthew, who shrankbashfully back into the shadows beyond the woodbox with a boot in one hand and abootjack in the other, and he watched them shyly for the aforesaid ten minutes as they put on caps and jackets and talked aboutthe dialogue and the concert. anne stood among them, bright eyed andanimated as they; but matthew suddenly became conscious that there was somethingabout her different from her mates. and what worried matthew was that thedifference impressed him as being something that should not exist. anne had a brighter face, and bigger,starrier eyes, and more delicate features

than the other; even shy, unobservantmatthew had learned to take note of these things; but the difference that disturbed him did not consist in any of theserespects. then in what did it consist? matthew was haunted by this question longafter the girls had gone, arm in arm, down the long, hard-frozen lane and anne hadbetaken herself to her books. he could not refer it to marilla, who, hefelt, would be quite sure to sniff scornfully and remark that the onlydifference she saw between anne and the other girls was that they sometimes kepttheir tongues quiet while anne never did.

this, matthew felt, would be no great help. he had recourse to his pipe that evening tohelp him study it out, much to marilla's disgust. after two hours of smoking and hardreflection matthew arrived at a solution of his problem.anne was not dressed like the other girls! the more matthew thought about the matterthe 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, darkdresses, all made after the same unvarying pattern.

if matthew knew there was such a thing asfashion in dress it was as much as he did; but he was quite sure that anne's sleevesdid not look at all like the sleeves the other girls wore. he recalled the cluster of little girls hehad seen around her that evening--all gay in waists of red and blue and pink andwhite--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 thechild have one pretty dress--something like diana barry always wore. 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 thingfor a present. matthew, with a sigh of satisfaction, putaway his pipe and went to bed, while marilla opened all the doors and aired thehouse. the very next evening matthew betookhimself to carmody to buy the dress, determined to get the worst over and havedone with it.

it would be, he felt assured, no triflingordeal. there were some things matthew could buyand prove himself no mean bargainer; but he knew he would be at the mercy ofshopkeepers when it came to buying a girl's dress. after much cogitation matthew resolved togo to samuel lawson's store instead of william blair's. to be sure, the cuthberts always had goneto william blair's; it was almost as much a matter of conscience with them as to attendthe presbyterian church and vote conservative.

but william blair's two daughtersfrequently waited on customers there and matthew held them in absolute dread. he could contrive to deal with them when heknew exactly what he wanted and could point it out; but in such a matter as this,requiring explanation and consultation, matthew felt that he must be sure of a manbehind the counter. so he would go to lawson's, where samuel orhis son would wait on him. alas! matthew did not know that samuel, in therecent expansion of his business, had set up a lady clerk also; she was a niece ofhis wife's and a very dashing young person

indeed, with a huge, drooping pompadour, big, rolling brown eyes, and a mostextensive and bewildering smile. she was dressed with exceeding smartnessand wore several bangle bracelets that glittered and rattled and tinkled withevery movement of her hands. matthew was covered with confusion atfinding her there at all; and those bangles completely wrecked his wits at one fellswoop. "what can i do for you this evening, mr.cuthbert?" miss lucilla harris inquired, briskly andingratiatingly, tapping the counter with both hands.

"have you any--any--any--well now, say anygarden rakes?" stammered matthew. miss harris looked somewhat surprised, aswell 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 upstairs in the lumber room.i'll go and see." during her absence matthew collected hisscattered senses for another effort. when miss harris returned with the rake andcheerfully inquired: "anything else tonight, mr. cuthbert?" matthew took his courage in both hands andreplied: "well now, since you suggest it,

i might as well--take--that is--look at--buysome--some hayseed." miss harris had heard matthew cuthbertcalled odd. she now concluded that he was entirelycrazy. "we only keep hayseed in the spring," sheexplained loftily. "we've none on hand just now." "oh, certainly--certainly--just as yousay," stammered unhappy matthew, seizing the rake and making for the door. at the threshold he recollected that he hadnot paid for it and he turned miserably back.

while miss harris was counting out hischange he rallied his powers for a final desperate attempt. "well now--if it isn't too much trouble--imight 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," saidmatthew, with beads of perspiration standing on his forehead.matthew had driven halfway home before he

was his own man again. it had been a gruesome experience, but itserved him right, he thought, for committing the heresy of going to a strangestore. when he reached home he hid the rake in thetool house, 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 thehired man's porridge or black fruit cake. jerry's gone and i've made my cake longago. it's not good sugar, either--it's coarseand dark--william blair doesn't usually

keep sugar like that." "i--i thought it might come in handysometime," said matthew, making good his escape. when matthew came to think the matter overhe decided that a woman was required to cope with the situation.marilla was out of the question. matthew felt sure she would throw coldwater on his project at once. remained only mrs. lynde; for of no otherwoman in avonlea would matthew have dared to ask advice. to mrs. lynde he went accordingly, and thatgood 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 tomorrow and i'llattend 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 suitanne, and william blair has some new gloria in that's real pretty. perhaps you'd like me to make it up forher, too, seeing that if marilla was to make it anne would probably get wind of itbefore 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 towhat they used to be. if it wouldn't be asking too much i--i'dlike 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 latestfashion," said mrs. lynde. to herself she added when matthew had gone: "it'll be a real satisfaction to see thatpoor child wearing something decent for once. the way marilla dresses her is positivelyridiculous, that's what, and i've ached to tell her so plainly a dozen times. i've held my tongue though, for i can seemarilla doesn't want advice and she thinks she knows more about bringing children upthan i do for all she's an old maid. but that's always the way.

folks that has brought up children knowthat there's no hard and fast method in the world that'll suit every child. but them as never have think it's all asplain and easy as rule of three--just set your three terms down so fashion, and thesum'll work out correct. but flesh and blood don't come under thehead of arithmetic and that's where marilla cuthbert makes her mistake. i suppose she's trying to cultivate aspirit of humility in anne by dressing her as she does; but it's more likely tocultivate envy and discontent. i'm sure the child must feel the differencebetween her clothes and the other girls'.

but to think of matthew taking notice ofit! that man is waking up after being asleepfor over sixty years." marilla knew all the following fortnightthat matthew had something on his mind, but what it was she could not guess, untilchristmas 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 thatshe had made the dress because matthew was afraid anne would find out about it toosoon if marilla made it. "so this is what matthew has been lookingso mysterious over and grinning about to

himself for two weeks, is it?" she said alittle stiffly but tolerantly. "i knew he was up to some foolishness. well, i must say i don't think anne neededany more dresses. i made her three good, warm, serviceableones this fall, and anything more is sheer extravagance. there's enough material in those sleevesalone 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, 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 moreridiculous 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 beautifulwhite world. it had been a very mild december and peoplehad looked forward to a green christmas; but just enough snow fell softly in thenight to transfigure avonlea. anne peeped out from her frosted gablewindow with delighted eyes. the firs in the haunted wood were allfeathery and wonderful; the birches and

wild cherry trees were outlined in pearl;the plowed fields were stretches of snowy dimples; and there was a crisp tang in theair that was glorious. anne ran downstairs singing until her voicereechoed 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 dressfrom its paper swathings and held it out with a deprecatory glance at marilla, whofeigned to be contemptuously filling the teapot, but nevertheless watched the scene out of the corner of her eye with a ratherinterested air. anne took the dress and looked at it inreverent silence. oh, how pretty it was--a lovely soft browngloria with all the gloss of silk; a skirt with dainty frills and shirrings; a waistelaborately pintucked in the most

fashionable way, with a little ruffle offilmy lace at the neck. but the sleeves--they were the crowningglory! long elbow cuffs, and above them twobeautiful 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 withtears. "like it! oh, matthew!"anne laid the dress over a chair and

clasped her hands."matthew, it's perfectly 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 marilla. "i must say, anne, i don't think you neededthe 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 eatbreakfast," said anne rapturously. "breakfast seems so commonplace at such anexciting 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 overit 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 theribbon too. i feel that i ought to be a very good girlindeed.

it's at times like this i'm sorry i'm not amodel little girl; and i always resolve that i will be in future. but somehow it's hard to carry out yourresolutions when irresistible temptations come.still, i really will make an extra effort after this." when the commonplace breakfast was overdiana appeared, crossing the white log bridge in the hollow, a gay little figurein her crimson ulster. anne flew down the slope to meet her. "merry christmas, diana!and oh, it's a wonderful 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 withever so many things in it--and this is for i'd have brought it over last night, but itdidn't come until after dark, and i never feel very comfortable coming through thehaunted wood in the dark now." anne opened the box and peeped in. first a card with "for the anne-girl andmerry christmas," written on it; and then,

a pair of the daintiest little kidslippers, with beaded toes and satin bows and glistening buckles. "oh," said anne, "diana, this is too much.i must be dreaming." "i call it providential," said diana. "you won't have to borrow ruby's slippersnow, and that's a blessing, for they're two sizes too big for you, and it would beawful to hear a fairy shuffling. josie pye would be delighted. mind you, rob wright went home with gertiepye from the practice night before last. did you ever hear anything equal to that?"

all the avonlea scholars were in a fever ofexcitement 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 pronounced success. the little hall was crowded; all theperformers did excellently well, but anne was the bright particular star of theoccasion, 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 undera dark, starry sky. "everything went off very well," said dianapractically.

"i guess we must have made as much as tendollars. mind you, mr. allan is going to send anaccount of it to the charlottetown papers." "oh, diana, will we really see our names inprint? it makes me thrill to think of it. your solo was perfectly 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 honored.'" "well, your recitations just brought downthe house, anne. that sad one was simply splendid.""oh, i was so nervous, diana.

when mr. allan called out my name i reallycannot tell how i ever got up on that platform. i felt as if a million eyes were looking atme 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 thosesleeves, diana. so i started in, and my voice seemed to becoming from ever so far away. i just felt like a parrot. it's providential that i practiced thoserecitations 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," assureddiana. "i saw old mrs. sloane wiping away tearswhen i sat down. it was splendid to think i had touchedsomebody's heart. it's so romantic to take part in a concert,isn't it? oh, it's been a very memorable occasionindeed." "wasn't the boys' dialogue fine?" saiddiana. "gilbert blythe was just splendid. anne, i do think it's awful mean the wayyou treat gil.

wait till i tell you. when you ran off the platform after thefairy 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 hadbeen out to a concert for the first time in

twenty years, sat for a while by thekitchen fire after anne had gone to bed. "well now, i guess our anne did as well asany 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 concertscheme, but i suppose there's no real harm in it after all.anyhow, i was proud of anne tonight, although i'm not going to tell her so." "well now, i was proud of her and i didtell her so 'fore she went upstairs," said matthew."we must see what we can do for her some of

these days, marilla. i guess she'll need something more thanavonlea school by and by." "there's time enough to think of that,"said marilla. "she's only thirteen in march. though tonight it struck me she was growingquite 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 bestthing 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 thinkingit over off and on," said matthew. "things like that are all the better forlots of thinking over." chapter xxvi.the story club is formed junior avonlea found it hard to settle downto humdrum existence again. to anne in particular things seemedfearfully flat, stale, and unprofitable after the goblet of excitement she had beensipping for weeks. could she go back to the former quietpleasures of those faraway days before the concert?at first, as she told diana, she did not really think she could.

"i'm positively certain, diana, that lifecan 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 a while i'll get used to it,but i'm afraid concerts spoil people for everyday life.i suppose that is why marilla disapproves 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'dreally want to be a sensible person, because they are so unromantic.

mrs. lynde says there is no danger of myever being one, but you can never tell. i feel just now that i may grow up to besensible yet. but perhaps that is only because i'm tired. i simply couldn't sleep last night for everso long. i just lay awake and imagined the concertover and over again. that's one splendid thing about suchaffairs--it's so lovely to look back to them." eventually, however, avonlea school slippedback into its old groove and took up its old interests.to be sure, the concert left traces.

ruby gillis and emma white, who hadquarreled over a point of precedence in their platform seats, no longer sat at thesame 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 bowwhen she got up to recite made her think of a chicken jerking its head, and bessie toldjulia. none of the sloanes would have any dealingswith the bells, because the bells had declared that the sloanes had too much todo in the program, and the sloanes had retorted that the bells were not capable ofdoing the little they had to do properly.

finally, charlie sloane fought moodyspurgeon macpherson, because moody spurgeon had said that anne shirley put on airsabout her recitations, and moody spurgeon was "licked"; consequently moody spurgeon's sister, ella may, would not "speak" to anneshirley all the rest of the winter. with the exception of these triflingfrictions, work in miss stacy's little kingdom went on with regularity andsmoothness. the winter weeks slipped by. it was an unusually mild winter, with solittle snow that anne and diana could go to school nearly every day by way of the birchpath.

on anne's birthday they were trippinglightly down it, keeping eyes and ears alert amid all their chatter, for missstacy had told them that they must soon write a composition on "a winter's walk in the woods," and it behooved them to beobservant. "just think, diana, i'm thirteen years oldtoday," remarked anne in an awed voice. "i can scarcely realize that i'm in myteens. when i woke this morning it seemed to methat everything must be different. you've been thirteen for a month, so isuppose 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 comfort to think that i'll be able to use big words then without beinglaughed at." "ruby gillis says she means to have a beauas soon as she's fifteen," said diana. "ruby gillis thinks of nothing but beaus,"said anne disdainfully. "she's actually delighted when anyonewrites 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 makeuncharitable speeches; but they do slip out

so often before you think, don't they? i simply can't talk about josie pye withoutmaking 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 asi possibly can, for i think she's perfect. mr. allan thinks so too. mrs. lynde says he just worships the groundshe treads on and she doesn't really think it right for a minister to set hisaffections so much on a mortal being. but then, diana, even ministers are humanand have their besetting sins just like everybody 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 totalk about on sundays and that is one of them.my besetting sin is imagining too much and forgetting my duties. i'm striving very hard to overcome it andnow 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 iswearing hers up, but i think that's

ridiculous.i shall wait until i'm seventeen." "if i had alice bell's crooked nose," saidanne decidedly, "i wouldn't--but there! i won't say what i was going to because itwas extremely uncharitable. besides, i was comparing it with my ownnose and that's vanity. i'm afraid i think too much about my noseever 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 woodscomposition. i really think the woods are just as lovelyin winter as in summer.

they're so white and still, as if they wereasleep and dreaming pretty dreams." "i won't mind writing that composition whenits time comes," sighed diana. "i can manage to write about the woods, butthe one we're to hand in monday is terrible. the idea of miss stacy telling us to writea story out of our own heads!" "why, it's as easy as wink," said anne. "it's easy for you because you have animagination," retorted diana, "but what would you do if you had been born withoutone? i suppose you have your composition alldone?"

anne nodded, trying hard not to lookvirtuously complacent and failing miserably. "i wrote it last monday evening.it's called 'the 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 itwas fine. that is the kind of critic i like.it's a sad, sweet story. i just cried like a child while i waswriting it. it's about two beautiful maidens calledcordelia montmorency and geraldine seymour

who lived in the same village and weredevotedly attached to each other. cordelia was a regal brunette with acoronet of midnight hair and duskly flashing eyes.geraldine was a queenly blonde with hair like spun gold and velvety 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 alabaster brow too.i've found out what an alabaster brow is. that is one of the advantages of beingthirteen.

you know so much more than you did when youwere only twelve." "well, what became of cordelia andgeraldine?" asked diana, who was beginning to feel rather interested in their fate. "they grew in beauty side by side untilthey were sixteen. then bertram devere came to their nativevillage and fell in love with the fair geraldine. he saved her life when her horse ran awaywith her in a carriage, and she fainted in his arms and he carried her home threemiles; because, you understand, the carriage was all smashed up.

i found it rather hard to imagine theproposal because i had no experience to go by. i asked ruby gillis if she knew anythingabout how men proposed because i thought she'd likely be an authority on thesubject, having so many sisters married. ruby told me she was hid in the hall pantrywhen malcolm andres proposed to her sister susan. she said malcolm told susan that his dadhad 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--letme see'--and there they were, engaged as

quick as that. but i didn't think that sort of a proposalwas 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 andbertram 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 withthat speech. i rewrote it five times and i look upon itas my masterpiece. bertram gave her a diamond ring and a rubynecklace and told her they would go to

europe for a wedding tour, for he wasimmensely wealthy. but then, alas, shadows began to darkenover their path. cordelia was secretly in love with bertramherself 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 tobitter hate and she vowed that she should never marry bertram.but she pretended to be geraldine's friend the same as ever. one evening they were standing on thebridge over a rushing turbulent stream and

cordelia, thinking they were alone, pushedgeraldine over the brink with a wild, mocking, 'ha, ha, ha.' but bertram saw it all and he at onceplunged into the current, exclaiming, 'i will save thee, my peerless geraldine.' but alas, he had forgotten he couldn'tswim, 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 theirfuneral was most imposing, diana. it's so much more romantic to end a storyup with a funeral than a wedding.

as for cordelia, she went insane withremorse and was shut up in a lunatic asylum.i thought that was a poetical retribution for her crime." "how perfectly lovely!" sighed diana, whobelonged to matthew's school of critics. "i don't see how you can make up suchthrilling things out of your own head, anne. i wish my imagination was as good asyours." "it would be if you'd only cultivate it,"said anne cheeringly. "i've just thought of a plan, diana.

let you and me have a story club all ourown and write stories for practice. i'll help you along until you can do themby 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 shesaid 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 twoothers who felt that their imaginations

needed cultivating. no boys were allowed in it--although rubygillis opined that their admission would make it more exciting--and each member hadto produce one story a week. "it's extremely interesting," anne toldmarilla. "each girl has to read her story out loudand then we talk it over. we are going to keep them all sacredly andhave 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 lovemaking into her

stories and you know too much is worse thantoo little. jane never puts any because she says itmakes her feel so silly when she had 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 knowwhat to do with the people so she kills them off to get rid of them. i mostly always have to tell them what towrite about, but that isn't hard for i've millions of ideas.""i think this story-writing business is the foolishest yet," scoffed marilla.

"you'll get a pack of nonsense into yourheads and waste time that should be put on your lessons.reading stories is bad enough but writing them is worse." "but we're so careful to put a moral intothem 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 wholesome 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 excellent.only they laughed in the wrong places. i like it better when people cry. jane and ruby almost always cry when i cometo the pathetic parts. diana wrote her aunt josephine about ourclub and her aunt josephine wrote back that we were to send her some of our stories. so we copied out four of our very best andsent them. miss josephine barry wrote back that shehad never read anything so amusing in her life. that kind of puzzled us because the storieswere all very pathetic and almost everybody

died.but i'm glad miss barry liked them. it shows our club is doing some good in theworld. mrs. allan says that ought to be our objectin everything. i do really try to make it my object but iforget so often when i'm having fun. i hope i shall be a little like mrs. allanwhen i grow up. do you think there is any prospect of it,marilla?" "i shouldn't say there was a great deal"was marilla's encouraging answer. "i'm sure mrs. allan was never such asilly, forgetful little girl as you are." "no; but she wasn't always so good as sheis now either," said anne seriously.

"she told me so herself--that is, she saidshe 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 feelencouraged when i hear that other people have been bad and mischievous?mrs. lynde says it is. mrs. lynde says she always feels shockedwhen she hears of anyone ever having been naughty, no matter how small they were. mrs. lynde says she once heard a ministerconfess that when he was a boy he stole a strawberry tart out of his aunt's pantryand 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 ofhim to confess it, and i'd have thought what an encouraging thing it would be forsmall boys nowadays who do naughty things and are sorry for them to know that perhaps they may grow up to be ministers in spiteof it. that's how i'd feel, marilla." "the way i feel at present, anne," saidmarilla, "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 afterwards." chapter xxvii.vanity and vexation of spirit marilla, walking home one late aprilevening from an aid meeting, realized that the winter was over and gone with thethrill of delight that spring never fails to bring to the oldest and saddest as wellas to the youngest and merriest. marilla was not given to subjectiveanalysis of her thoughts and feelings. she probably imagined that she was thinkingabout the aids and their missionary box and the new carpet for the vestry room, butunder these reflections was a harmonious consciousness of red fields smoking into

pale-purply mists in the declining sun, oflong, sharp-pointed fir shadows falling over the meadow beyond the brook, of still,crimson-budded maples around a mirrorlike wood pool, of a wakening in the world and astir of hidden pulses under the gray sod. the spring was abroad in the land andmarilla's sober, middle-aged step was lighter and swifter because of its deep,primal gladness. her eyes dwelt affectionately on greengables, peering through its network of trees and reflecting the sunlight back fromits windows in several little coruscations of glory. marilla, as she picked her steps along thedamp lane, thought that it was really a

satisfaction to know that she was goinghome to a briskly snapping wood fire and a table nicely spread for tea, instead of to the cold comfort of old aid meetingevenings before anne had come to green gables. consequently, when marilla entered herkitchen and found the fire black out, with no sign of anne anywhere, she felt justlydisappointed and irritated. she had told anne to be sure and have teaready at five o'clock, but now she must hurry to take off her second-best dress andprepare the meal herself against matthew's return from plowing.

"i'll settle miss anne when she comeshome," said marilla grimly, as she shaved up kindlings with a carving knife and withmore vim than was strictly necessary. matthew had come in and was waitingpatiently for his tea in his corner. "she's gadding off somewhere with diana,writing stories or practicing dialogues or some such tomfoolery, and never thinkingonce about the time or her duties. she's just got to be pulled up short andsudden on this sort of thing. i don't care if mrs. allan does say she'sthe brightest and sweetest child she ever knew. she may be bright and sweet enough, but herhead is full of nonsense and there's never

any knowing what shape it'll break out innext. just as soon as she grows out of one freakshe takes up with another. but there! here i am saying the very thing i was soriled with rachel lynde for saying at the aid today. i was real glad when mrs. allan spoke upfor anne, for if she hadn't i know i'd have said something too sharp to rachel beforeeverybody. anne's got plenty of faults, goodnessknows, and far be it from me to deny it. but i'm bringing her up and not rachellynde, who'd pick faults in the angel

gabriel himself if he lived in avonlea. just the same, anne has no business toleave the house like this when i told her she was to stay home this afternoon andlook after things. i must say, with all her faults, i neverfound her disobedient or untrustworthy before and i'm real sorry to find her sonow." "well now, i dunno," said matthew, who,being patient and wise and, above all, hungry, had deemed it best to let marillatalk her wrath out unhindered, having learned by experience that she got through with whatever work was on hand much quickerif not delayed by untimely argument.

"perhaps you're judging her too hasty,marilla. don't call her untrustworthy until you'resure she has disobeyed you. mebbe it can all be explained--anne's agreat hand at explaining." "she's not here when i told her to stay,"retorted marilla. "i reckon she'll find it hard to explainthat 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, andstill no sign of anne, coming hurriedly over the log bridge or up lover's lane,breathless and repentant with a sense of

neglected duties. marilla washed and put away the dishesgrimly. then, wanting a candle to light her waydown the cellar, she went up to the east gable for the one that generally stood onanne's table. lighting it, she turned around to see anneherself 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 anxiously, going over to the bed.

anne cowered deeper into her pillows as ifdesirous of hiding herself forever from mortal eyes."no. but please, marilla, go away and don't lookat me. i'm in the depths of despair and i don'tcare who gets head in class or writes the best composition or sings in the sunday-school choir any more. little things like that are of noimportance 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 atme." "did anyone ever hear the like?" themystified marilla wanted to know.

"anne shirley, whatever is the matter withyou? 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 andlooked 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 yourhair? why, it's green!"

green it might be called, if it were anyearthly color--a queer, dull, bronzy green, with streaks here and there of the originalred to heighten the ghastly effect. never in all her life had marilla seenanything so grotesque as anne's hair at that moment."yes, it's green," moaned anne. "i thought nothing could be as bad as redhair. but now i know it's ten times worse to havegreen hair. oh, marilla, you little know how utterlywretched 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 toocold up here--and tell me just what you've

done.i've been expecting something queer for some time. you haven't got into any scrape for overtwo 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 awicked thing to do?" "yes, i knew it was a little wicked,"admitted anne. "but i thought it was worth while to be alittle wicked to get rid of red hair.

i counted the cost, marilla. besides, i meant to be extra good in otherways to make up for it." "well," said marilla sarcastically, "if i'ddecided it was worth while to dye my hair i'd have dyed it a decent color at least. i wouldn't have dyed it green.""but i didn't mean to dye it green, marilla," protested anne dejectedly."if i was wicked i meant to be wicked to some purpose. he said it would turn my hair a beautifulraven black--he positively assured me that it would.how could i doubt his word, marilla?

i know what it feels like to have your worddoubted. and mrs. allan says we should never suspectanyone of not telling us the truth unless we have proof that they're not. i have proof now--green hair is proofenough for anybody. but i hadn't then and i believed every wordhe said implicitly." "who said? who are you talking about?""the peddler that was here this afternoon. i bought the dye from him." "anne shirley, how often have i told younever 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 athis things on the step. besides, he wasn't an italian--he was agerman jew. he had a big box full of very interestingthings and he told me he was working hard to make enough money to bring his wife andchildren out from germany. he spoke so feelingly about them that ittouched my heart. i wanted to buy something from him to helphim in such a worthy object.

then all at once i saw the bottle of hairdye. the peddler said it was warranted to dyeany hair a beautiful raven black and wouldn't wash off. in a trice i saw myself with beautifulraven-black hair and the temptation 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 peddler had a very kind heart,for he said that, seeing it was me, he'd sell it for fifty cents and that was justgiving it away.

so i bought it, and as soon as he had gonei came up here and applied it with an old hairbrush as the directions said. i used up the whole bottle, and oh,marilla, when i saw the dreadful color it turned my hair i repented of being wicked,i can tell you. and i've been repenting ever since." "well, i hope you'll repent to goodpurpose," said marilla severely, "and that you've got your eyes opened to where yourvanity has led you, anne. goodness knows what's to be done. i suppose the first thing is to give yourhair 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 difference it madeshe might as well have been scouring its original red. the peddler had certainly spoken the truthwhen he declared that the dye wouldn't wash off, however his veracity might beimpeached in other respects. "oh, marilla, what shall i do?" questionedanne in tears. "i can never live this down. people have pretty well forgotten my othermistakes--the liniment cake and setting

diana drunk and flying into a temper withmrs. 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 practice to deceive.'that is poetry, but it is true. and oh, how josie pye will laugh! marilla, i cannot face josie pye.i am the unhappiest girl in prince edward island."anne's unhappiness continued for a week. during that time she went nowhere andshampooed her hair every day. diana alone of outsiders knew the fatalsecret, but she promised solemnly never to

tell, and it may be stated here and nowthat she kept her word. at the end of the week marilla saiddecidedly: "it's no use, anne.that is fast dye if ever there was any. your hair must be cut off; there is noother way. you can't go out with it looking likethat." anne's lips quivered, but she realized thebitter truth of marilla's remarks. with a dismal sigh she went for thescissors. "please cut it off at once, marilla, andhave it over. oh, i feel that my heart is broken.this is such an unromantic affliction.

the girls in books lose their hair infevers or sell it to get money for some good deed, and i'm sure i wouldn't mindlosing my hair in some such fashion half so much. but there is nothing comforting in havingyour hair cut off because you've dyed it a dreadful color, is there?i'm going to weep all the time you're cutting it off, if it won't interfere. it seems such a tragic thing."anne wept then, but later on, when she went upstairs and looked in the glass, she wascalm with despair. marilla had done her work thoroughly and ithad been necessary to shingle the hair as

closely as possible.the result was not becoming, to state 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 exclaimedpassionately. 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 myroom 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 solong and thick and curly. i expect something will happen to my nosenext." anne's clipped head made a sensation inschool on the following monday, but to her relief nobody guessed the real reason forit, not even josie pye, who, however, did not fail to inform anne that she lookedlike a perfect scarecrow. "i didn't say anything when josie said thatto me," anne confided that evening to marilla, who was lying on the sofa afterone of her headaches, "because i thought it was part of my punishment and i ought tobear it patiently. it's hard to be told you look like ascarecrow and i wanted to say something

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 beinggood 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 tobelieve a thing even when you know it. i do really want to be good, marilla, likeyou and mrs. allan and miss stacy, and grow up to be a credit to you. diana says when my hair begins to grow totie 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 soromantic. but am i talking too much, marilla?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 imind it--i've got so used to it." which was marilla's way of saying that sheliked to hear it.

chapter xxviii.an unfortunate lily maid "of course you must be elaine, anne," saiddiana. "i could never have the courage to floatdown there." "nor i," said ruby gillis, with a shiver. "i don't mind floating down when there'stwo 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--ijust couldn't. i'd die really of fright." "of course it would be romantic," concededjane andrews, "but i know i couldn't keep

still. i'd be popping up every minute or so to seewhere 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 redheadedelaine," mourned anne. "i'm not afraid to float down and i'd loveto be elaine. but it's ridiculous just the same. ruby ought to be elaine because she is sofair and has such lovely long golden hair-- elaine had 'all her bright hair streamingdown,' you know.

and elaine was the lily maid. now, a red-haired person cannot be a lilymaid." "your complexion is just as fair asruby's," said diana earnestly, "and your hair is ever so much darker than it used tobe before you cut it." "oh, do you really think so?" exclaimedanne, flushing sensitively with delight. "i've sometimes thought it was myself--buti never dared to ask anyone 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," saiddiana, looking admiringly at the short,

silky curls that clustered over anne's headand were held in place by a very jaunty black velvet ribbon and bow. they were standing on the bank of the pond,below orchard slope, where a little headland fringed with birches ran out fromthe bank; at its tip was a small wooden platform built out into the water for theconvenience of fishermen and duck hunters. ruby and jane were spending the midsummerafternoon with diana, and anne had come over to play with them. anne and diana had spent most of theirplaytime that summer on and about the pond. idlewild was a thing of the past, mr. bellhaving ruthlessly cut down the little

circle of trees in his back pasture in thespring. anne had sat among the stumps and wept, notwithout 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 playhouses,and there were more fascinating sports to be found about the pond. it was splendid to fish for trout over thebridge 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 dramatizeelaine. they had studied tennyson's poem in schoolthe preceding winter, the superintendent of education having prescribed it in theenglish course for the prince edward island schools. they had analyzed and parsed it and torn itto pieces in general until it was a wonder there was any meaning at all left in it forthem, but at least the fair lily maid and lancelot and guinevere and king arthur had become very real people to them, and annewas devoured 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 flatwere pushed off from the landing place it would drift down with the current under thebridge and finally strand itself on another headland lower down which ran out at acurve in the pond. they had often gone down like this andnothing could be more convenient for playing elaine. "well, i'll be elaine," said anne, yieldingreluctantly, for, although she would have been delighted to play the principalcharacter, yet her artistic sense demanded

fitness for it and this, she felt, herlimitations made impossible. "ruby, you must be king arthur and janewill be guinevere and diana must be lancelot. but first you must be the brothers and thefather. we can't have the old dumb servitor becausethere isn't room for two in the flat when one is lying down. we must pall the barge all its length inblackest samite. that old black shawl of your mother's willbe just the thing, diana." the black shawl having been procured, annespread it over the flat and then lay down

on the bottom, with closed eyes and handsfolded over her breast. "oh, she does look really dead," whisperedruby gillis nervously, watching the still, white little face under the flickeringshadows of the birches. "it makes me feel frightened, girls. do you suppose it's really right to actlike this? mrs. lynde says that all play-acting isabominably wicked." "ruby, you shouldn't talk about mrs.lynde," said anne severely. "it spoils the effect because this ishundreds 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 coverlet 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 thatcould be desired. "now, she's all ready," said jane. "we must kiss her quiet brows and, diana,you say, 'sister, farewell forever,' 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. diana and jane and ruby only waited longenough to see it caught in the current and headed for the bridge before scampering upthrough the woods, across the road, and down to the lower headland where, as lancelot and guinevere and the king, theywere to be in readiness to receive the lily

maid. for a few minutes anne, drifting slowlydown, 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 forelaine to scramble to her feet, pick up her cloth of gold coverlet and pall of blackestsamite and gaze blankly at a big crack in the bottom of her barge through which thewater was literally pouring. that sharp stake at the landing had tornoff the strip of batting nailed on the

flat. anne did not know this, but it did not takeher long to realize that she was in a dangerous plight. at this rate the flat would fill and sinklong before it could drift to the lower headland.where were the oars? left behind at the landing! anne gave one gasping little scream whichnobody 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 tothe bridge and the water rising in it every moment. i prayed, mrs. allan, most earnestly, but ididn't shut my eyes to pray, for i knew the only way god could save me was to let theflat float close enough to one of the bridge piles for me to climb up on it. you know the piles are just old tree trunksand there are lots of knots and old branch stubs on them. it was proper to pray, but i had to do mypart by watching out and right well i knew

it. i just said, 'dear god, please take theflat 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 bumpedright into a pile for a minute and i flung the scarf and the shawl over my shoulderand scrambled up on a big providential stub. and there i was, mrs. allan, clinging tothat 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 youhave just escaped from a watery grave. i said a grateful prayer at once and then igave all my attention to holding on tight, for i knew i should probably have to dependon human aid to get back to dry land." the flat drifted under the bridge and thenpromptly sank in midstream. ruby, jane, and diana, already awaiting iton the lower headland, saw it disappear before their very eyes and had not a doubtbut that anne had gone down with it. for a moment they stood still, white assheets, frozen with horror at the tragedy; then, shrieking at the tops of theirvoices, they started on a frantic run up

through the woods, never pausing as they crossed the main road to glance the way ofthe bridge. anne, clinging desperately to herprecarious foothold, saw their flying forms and heard their shrieks. help would soon come, but meanwhile herposition was a very uncomfortable one. the minutes passed by, each seeming an hourto 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 depthsbelow 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 couldnot endure the ache in her arms and wrists another moment, gilbert blythe came rowingunder the bridge in harmon andrews's dory! gilbert glanced up and, much to hisamazement, 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?" heexclaimed. without waiting for an answer he pulledclose to the pile and extended his hand. there was no help for it; anne, clinging togilbert blythe's hand, scrambled down into the dory, where she sat, drabbled andfurious, in the stern with her arms full of dripping shawl and wet crepe. it was certainly extremely difficult to bedignified under the circumstances! "what has happened, anne?" asked gilbert,taking up his oars. "we were playing elaine" explained annefrigidly, without even looking at her rescuer, "and i had to drift down tocamelot in the barge--i mean the flat.

the flat began to leak and i climbed out onthe pile. the girls went for help.will you be kind enough to row me to the landing?" gilbert obligingly rowed to the landing andanne, disdaining assistance, sprang nimbly on shore."i'm very much obliged to you," she said haughtily as she turned away. but gilbert had also sprung from the boatand 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 hairthat time.

i didn't mean to vex you and i only meantit 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 awakenedconsciousness under all her outraged dignity that the half-shy, half-eagerexpression 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 waveringdetermination.

that scene of two years before flashed backinto her recollection as vividly as if it had taken place yesterday. gilbert had called her "carrots" and hadbrought about her disgrace before the whole her resentment, which to other and olderpeople might be as laughable as its cause, was in no whit allayed and softened by timeseemingly. she hated gilbert blythe! she would never forgive him!"no," she said coldly, "i shall never be friends with you, gilbert blythe; and idon't want to be!" "all right!"

gilbert sprang into his skiff with an angrycolor 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 gilbertdifferently. of course, he had insulted her terribly,but still--! altogether, anne rather thought it would bea relief to sit down and have a good cry.

she was really quite unstrung, for thereaction from her fright and cramped clinging was making itself felt. halfway up the path she met jane and dianarushing back to the pond in a state narrowly removed from positive frenzy.they had found nobody at orchard slope, both mr. and mrs. barry being away. here ruby gillis had succumbed tohysterics, and was left to recover from them as best she might, while jane anddiana flew through the haunted wood and across the brook to green gables. there they had found nobody either, formarilla had gone to carmody and matthew was

making hay in the back field. "oh, anne," gasped diana, fairly falling onthe former's neck and weeping with relief and delight, "oh, anne--we thought--youwere--drowned--and we felt like murderers-- because we had made--you be--elaine. and ruby is in hysterics--oh, anne, how didyou escape?" "i climbed up on one of the piles,"explained anne wearily, "and gilbert blythe came along in mr. andrews's dory andbrought me to land." "oh, anne, how splendid of him! why, it's so romantic!" said jane, findingbreath enough for utterance at last.

"of course you'll speak to him after this.""of course i won't," flashed anne, with a momentary return of her old spirit. "and i don't want ever to hear the word'romantic' again, jane andrews. i'm awfully sorry you were so frightened,girls. it is all my fault. i feel sure i was born under an unluckystar. everything i do gets me or my dearestfriends 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 anymore."

anne's presentiment proved more trustworthythan presentiments are apt to do. great was the consternation in the barryand cuthbert households 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 gratefulsolitude of the east gable, had soothed her nerves and restored her to her wontedcheerfulness. "i think my prospects of becoming sensibleare brighter now than ever." "i don't see how," said marilla."well," explained anne, "i've learned a new

and valuable lesson today. ever since i came to green gables i've beenmaking mistakes, and each mistake has helped to cure me of some greatshortcoming. the affair of the amethyst brooch cured meof meddling 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 ofcarelessness in cooking. dyeing my hair cured me of vanity.i never think about my hair and nose now-- at least, very seldom.

and today's mistake is going to cure me ofbeing too romantic. i have come to the conclusion that it is nouse trying to be romantic in avonlea. it was probably easy enough in toweredcamelot hundreds of years ago, but romance is not appreciated now. i feel quite sure that you will soon see agreat improvement in me in this respect, marilla.""i'm sure i hope so," said marilla skeptically. but matthew, who had been sitting mutely inhis corner, laid a hand on anne's shoulder when marilla had gone out.

"don't give up all your romance, anne," hewhispered shyly, "a little of it is a good thing--not too much, of course--but keep alittle of it, anne, keep a little of it."

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