CHAPTER VIII. Anne's Bringing-up Is Begun
|FOR reasons best known to herself, Marilla did not tell Anne thatshe was to stay at Green Gables until the next afternoon. During theforenoon she kept the child busy with various tasks and watched over herwith a keen eye while she did them. By noon she had concluded that Annewas smart and obedient, willing to work and quick to learn; her mostserious shortcoming seemed to be a tendency to fall into daydreams inthe middle of a task and forget all about it until such time as she wassharply recalled to earth by a reprimand or a catastrophe.
When Anne had finished washing the dinner dishes she suddenly confrontedMarilla with the air and expression of one desperately determined tolearn the worst. Her thin little body trembled from head to foot; herface flushed and her eyes dilated until they were almost black; sheclasped her hands tightly and said in an imploring voice:
"Oh, please, Miss Cuthbert, won't you tell me if you are going to sendme away or not? I've tried to be patient all the morning, but I reallyfeel that I cannot bear not knowing any longer. It's a dreadful feeling.Please tell me."
"You haven't scalded the dishcloth in clean hot water as I told you todo," said Marilla immovably. "Just go and do it before you ask any morequestions, Anne."
Anne went and attended to the dishcloth. Then she returned to Marillaand fastened imploring eyes of the latter's face. "Well," said Marilla,unable to find any excuse for deferring her explanation longer, "Isuppose I might as well tell you. Matthew and I have decided to keepyou--that is, if you will try to be a good little girl and show yourselfgrateful. Why, child, whatever is the matter?"
"I'm crying," said Anne in a tone of bewilderment. "I can't think why.I'm glad as glad can be. Oh, _glad_ doesn't seem the right word at all. Iwas glad about the White Way and the cherry blossoms--but this! Oh, it'ssomething more than glad. I'm so happy. I'll try to be so good. Itwill be uphill work, I expect, for Mrs. Thomas often told me I wasdesperately wicked. However, I'll do my very best. But can you tell mewhy I'm crying?"
"I suppose it's because you're all excited and worked up," said Marilladisapprovingly. "Sit down on that chair and try to calm yourself. I'mafraid you both cry and laugh far too easily. Yes, you can stay here andwe will try to do right by you. You must go to school; but it's only afortnight till vacation so it isn't worth while for you to start beforeit opens again in September."
"What am I to call you?" asked Anne. "Shall I always say Miss Cuthbert?Can I call you Aunt Marilla?"
"No; you'll call me just plain Marilla. I'm not used to being calledMiss Cuthbert and it would make me nervous."
"It sounds awfully disrespectful to just say Marilla," protested Anne.
"I guess there'll be nothing disrespectful in it if you're carefulto speak respectfully. Everybody, young and old, in Avonlea calls meMarilla except the minister. He says Miss Cuthbert--when he thinks ofit."
"I'd love to call you Aunt Marilla," said Anne wistfully. "I've neverhad an aunt or any relation at all--not even a grandmother. It wouldmake me feel as if I really belonged to you. Can't I call you AuntMarilla?"
"No. I'm not your aunt and I don't believe in calling people names thatdon't belong to them."
"But we could imagine you were my aunt."
"I couldn't," said Marilla grimly.
"Do you never imagine things different from what they really are?" askedAnne wide-eyed.
"No."
"Oh!" Anne drew a long breath. "Oh, Miss--Marilla, how much you miss!"
"I don't believe in imagining things different from what they reallyare," retorted Marilla. "When the Lord puts us in certain circumstancesHe doesn't mean for us to imagine them away. And that reminds me. Gointo the sitting room, Anne--be sure your feet are clean and don'tlet any flies in--and bring me out the illustrated card that's on themantelpiece. The Lord's Prayer is on it and you'll devote your sparetime this afternoon to learning it off by heart. There's to be no moreof such praying as I heard last night."
"I suppose I was very awkward," said Anne apologetically, "but then, yousee, I'd never had any practice. You couldn't really expect a personto pray very well the first time she tried, could you? I thought out asplendid prayer after I went to bed, just as I promised you I would.It was nearly as long as a minister's and so poetical. But would youbelieve it? I couldn't remember one word when I woke up this morning.And I'm afraid I'll never be able to think out another one as good.Somehow, things never are so good when they're thought out a secondtime. Have you ever noticed that?"
"Here is something for you to notice, Anne. When I tell you to doa thing I want you to obey me at once and not stand stock-still anddiscourse about it. Just you go and do as I bid you."
Anne promptly departed for the sitting-room across the hall; she failedto return; after waiting ten minutes Marilla laid down her knittingand marched after her with a grim expression. She found Anne standingmotionless before a picture hanging on the wall between the two windows,with her eyes a-star with dreams. The white and green light strainedthrough apple trees and clustering vines outside fell over the raptlittle figure with a half-unearthly radiance.
"Anne, whatever are you thinking of?" demanded Marilla sharply.
Anne came back to earth with a start.
"That," she said, pointing to the picture--a rather vivid chromoentitled, "Christ Blessing Little Children"--"and I was just imagining Iwas one of them--that I was the little girl in the blue dress, standingoff by herself in the corner as if she didn't belong to anybody, likeme. She looks lonely and sad, don't you think? I guess she hadn't anyfather or mother of her own. But she wanted to be blessed, too, so shejust crept shyly up on the outside of the crowd, hoping nobody wouldnotice her--except Him. I'm sure I know just how she felt. Her heartmust have beat and her hands must have got cold, like mine did when Iasked you if I could stay. She was afraid He mightn't notice her. Butit's likely He did, don't you think? I've been trying to imagine it allout--her edging a little nearer all the time until she was quite closeto Him; and then He would look at her and put His hand on her hair andoh, such a thrill of joy as would run over her! But I wish the artisthadn't painted Him so sorrowful looking. All His pictures are like that,if you've noticed. But I don't believe He could really have looked sosad or the children would have been afraid of Him."
"Anne," said Marilla, wondering why she had not broken into this speechlong before, "you shouldn't talk that way. It's irreverent--positivelyirreverent."
Anne's eyes marveled.
"Why, I felt just as reverent as could be. I'm sure I didn't mean to beirreverent."
"Well I don't suppose you did--but it doesn't sound right to talk sofamiliarly about such things. And another thing, Anne, when I send youafter something you're to bring it at once and not fall into mooning andimagining before pictures. Remember that. Take that card and come rightto the kitchen. Now, sit down in the corner and learn that prayer off byheart."
Anne set the card up against the jugful of apple blossoms she hadbrought in to decorate the dinner-table--Marilla had eyed thatdecoration askance, but had said nothing--propped her chin on her hands,and fell to studying it intently for several silent minutes.
"I like this," she announced at length. "It's beautiful. I've heard itbefore--I heard the superintendent of the asylum Sunday school say itover once. But I didn't like it then. He had such a cracked voice andhe prayed it so mournfully. I really felt sure he thought praying was adisagreeable duty. This isn't poetry, but it makes me feel just the sameway poetry does. 'Our Father who art in heaven hallowed be Thy name.'That is just like a line of music. Oh, I'm so glad you thought of makingme learn this, Miss--Marilla."
"Well, learn it and hold your tongue," said Marilla shortly.
Anne tipped the vase of apple blossoms near enough to bestow a softkiss on a pink-cupped bud, and then studied diligently for some momentslonger.
"Marilla," she demanded presently, "do you think that I shall ever havea bosom friend in Avonlea?"
"A--a what kind of friend?"
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"A bosom friend--an intimate friend, you know--a really kindred spiritto whom I can confide my inmost soul. I've dreamed of meeting her allmy life. I never really supposed I would, but so many of my loveliestdreams have come true all at once that perhaps this one will, too. Doyou think it's possible?"
"Diana Barry lives over at Orchard Slope and she's about your age. She'sa very nice little girl, and perhaps she will be a playmate for you whenshe comes home. She's visiting her aunt over at Carmody just now. You'llhave to be careful how you behave yourself, though. Mrs. Barry is avery particular woman. She won't let Diana play with any little girl whoisn't nice and good."
Anne looked at Marilla through the apple blossoms, her eyes aglow withinterest.
"What is Diana like? Her hair isn't red, is it? Oh, I hope not. It's badenough to have red hair myself, but I positively couldn't endure it in abosom friend."
"Diana is a very pretty little girl. She has black eyes and hair androsy cheeks. And she is good and smart, which is better than beingpretty."
Marilla was as fond of morals as the Duchess in Wonderland, and wasfirmly convinced that one should be tacked on to every remark made to achild who was being brought up.
But Anne waved the moral inconsequently aside and seized only on thedelightful possibilities before it.
"Oh, I'm so glad she's pretty. Next to being beautiful oneself--andthat's impossible in my case--it would be best to have a beautiful bosomfriend. When I lived with Mrs. Thomas she had a bookcase in her sittingroom with glass doors. There weren't any books in it; Mrs. Thomas kepther best china and her preserves there--when she had any preserves tokeep. One of the doors was broken. Mr. Thomas smashed it one nightwhen he was slightly intoxicated. But the other was whole and I used topretend that my reflection in it was another little girl who lived init. I called her Katie Maurice, and we were very intimate. I used totalk to her by the hour, especially on Sunday, and tell her everything.Katie was the comfort and consolation of my life. We used to pretendthat the bookcase was enchanted and that if I only knew the spell Icould open the door and step right into the room where Katie Mauricelived, instead of into Mrs. Thomas' shelves of preserves and china. Andthen Katie Maurice would have taken me by the hand and led me out into awonderful place, all flowers and sunshine and fairies, and we would havelived there happy for ever after. When I went to live with Mrs. Hammondit just broke my heart to leave Katie Maurice. She felt it dreadfully,too, I know she did, for she was crying when she kissed me good-byethrough the bookcase door. There was no bookcase at Mrs. Hammond's. Butjust up the river a little way from the house there was a long greenlittle valley, and the loveliest echo lived there. It echoed back everyword you said, even if you didn't talk a bit loud. So I imagined that itwas a little girl called Violetta and we were great friends and I lovedher almost as well as I loved Katie Maurice--not quite, but almost, youknow. The night before I went to the asylum I said good-bye to Violetta,and oh, her good-bye came back to me in such sad, sad tones. I hadbecome so attached to her that I hadn't the heart to imagine a bosomfriend at the asylum, even if there had been any scope for imaginationthere."
"I think it's just as well there wasn't," said Marilla drily. "Idon't approve of such goings-on. You seem to half believe your ownimaginations. It will be well for you to have a real live friend toput such nonsense out of your head. But don't let Mrs. Barry hear youtalking about your Katie Maurices and your Violettas or she'll think youtell stories."
"Oh, I won't. I couldn't talk of them to everybody--their memories aretoo sacred for that. But I thought I'd like to have you know about them.Oh, look, here's a big bee just tumbled out of an apple blossom. Justthink what a lovely place to live--in an apple blossom! Fancy going tosleep in it when the wind was rocking it. If I wasn't a human girl Ithink I'd like to be a bee and live among the flowers."
"Yesterday you wanted to be a sea gull," sniffed Marilla. "I think youare very fickle minded. I told you to learn that prayer and not talk.But it seems impossible for you to stop talking if you've got anybodythat will listen to you. So go up to your room and learn it."
"Oh, I know it pretty nearly all now--all but just the last line."
"Well, never mind, do as I tell you. Go to your room and finish learningit well, and stay there until I call you down to help me get tea."
"Can I take the apple blossoms with me for company?" pleaded Anne.
"No; you don't want your room cluttered up with flowers. You should haveleft them on the tree in the first place."
"I did feel a little that way, too," said Anne. "I kind of felt Ishouldn't shorten their lovely lives by picking them--I wouldn't wantto be picked if I were an apple blossom. But the temptation was_irresistible_. What do you do when you meet with an irresistibletemptation?"
"Anne, did you hear me tell you to go to your room?"
Anne sighed, retreated to the east gable, and sat down in a chair by thewindow.
"There--I know this prayer. I learned that last sentence comingupstairs. Now I'm going to imagine things into this room so that they'llalways stay imagined. The floor is covered with a white velvet carpetwith pink roses all over it and there are pink silk curtains at thewindows. The walls are hung with gold and silver brocade tapestry. Thefurniture is mahogany. I never saw any mahogany, but it does sound _so_luxurious. This is a couch all heaped with gorgeous silken cushions,pink and blue and crimson and gold, and I am reclining gracefully on it.I can see my reflection in that splendid big mirror hanging on the wall.I am tall and regal, clad in a gown of trailing white lace, with apearl cross on my breast and pearls in my hair. My hair is of midnightdarkness and my skin is a clear ivory pallor. My name is the LadyCordelia Fitzgerald. No, it isn't--I can't make _that_ seem real."
She danced up to the little looking-glass and peered into it. Herpointed freckled face and solemn gray eyes peered back at her.
"You're only Anne of Green Gables," she said earnestly, "and I see you,just as you are looking now, whenever I try to imagine I'm the LadyCordelia. But it's a million times nicer to be Anne of Green Gables thanAnne of nowhere in particular, isn't it?"
She bent forward, kissed her reflection affectionately, and betookherself to the open window.
"Dear Snow Queen, good afternoon. And good afternoon dear birches downin the hollow. And good afternoon, dear gray house up on the hill. Iwonder if Diana is to be my bosom friend. I hope she will, and I shalllove her very much. But I must never quite forget Katie Mauriceand Violetta. They would feel so hurt if I did and I'd hate to hurtanybody's feelings, even a little bookcase girl's or a little echogirl's. I must be careful to remember them and send them a kiss everyday."
Anne blew a couple of airy kisses from her fingertips past the cherryblossoms and then, with her chin in her hands, drifted luxuriously outon a sea of daydreams.
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