CHAPTER XXX. The Queens Class Is Organized
|MARILLA laid her knitting on her lap and leaned back in her chair. Hereyes were tired, and she thought vaguely that she must see about havingher glasses changed the next time she went to town, for her eyes hadgrown tired very often of late.
It was nearly dark, for the full November twilight had fallen aroundGreen Gables, and the only light in the kitchen came from the dancingred flames in the stove.
Anne was curled up Turk-fashion on the hearthrug, gazing into thatjoyous glow where the sunshine of a hundred summers was being distilledfrom the maple cordwood. She had been reading, but her book had slippedto the floor, and now she was dreaming, with a smile on her parted lips.Glittering castles in Spain were shaping themselves out of the mists andrainbows of her lively fancy; adventures wonderful and enthrallingwere happening to her in cloudland--adventures that always turned outtriumphantly and never involved her in scrapes like those of actuallife.
Marilla looked at her with a tenderness that would never have beensuffered to reveal itself in any clearer light than that soft minglingof fireshine and shadow. The lesson of a love that should display itselfeasily in spoken word and open look was one Marilla could never learn.But she had learned to love this slim, gray-eyed girl with an affectionall the deeper and stronger from its very undemonstrativeness. Her lovemade her afraid of being unduly indulgent, indeed. She had an uneasyfeeling that it was rather sinful to set one's heart so intensely on anyhuman creature as she had set hers on Anne, and perhaps she performed asort of unconscious penance for this by being stricter and more criticalthan if the girl had been less dear to her. Certainly Anne herself hadno idea how Marilla loved her. She sometimes thought wistfully thatMarilla was very hard to please and distinctly lacking in sympathyand understanding. But she always checked the thought reproachfully,remembering what she owed to Marilla.
"Anne," said Marilla abruptly, "Miss Stacy was here this afternoon whenyou were out with Diana."
Anne came back from her other world with a start and a sigh.
"Was she? Oh, I'm so sorry I wasn't in. Why didn't you call me, Marilla?Diana and I were only over in the Haunted Wood. It's lovely in the woodsnow. All the little wood things--the ferns and the satin leaves and thecrackerberries--have gone to sleep, just as if somebody had tucked themaway until spring under a blanket of leaves. I think it was a littlegray fairy with a rainbow scarf that came tiptoeing along the lastmoonlight night and did it. Diana wouldn't say much about that, though.Diana has never forgotten the scolding her mother gave her aboutimagining ghosts into the Haunted Wood. It had a very bad effect onDiana's imagination. It blighted it. Mrs. Lynde says Myrtle Bell is ablighted being. I asked Ruby Gillis why Myrtle was blighted, and Rubysaid she guessed it was because her young man had gone back on her. RubyGillis thinks of nothing but young men, and the older she gets the worseshe is. Young men are all very well in their place, but it doesn't do todrag them into everything, does it? Diana and I are thinking seriouslyof promising each other that we will never marry but be nice old maidsand live together forever. Diana hasn't quite made up her mind though,because she thinks perhaps it would be nobler to marry some wild,dashing, wicked young man and reform him. Diana and I talk a great dealabout serious subjects now, you know. We feel that we are so much olderthan we used to be that it isn't becoming to talk of childish matters.It's such a solemn thing to be almost fourteen, Marilla. Miss Stacy tookall us girls who are in our teens down to the brook last Wednesday, andtalked to us about it. She said we couldn't be too careful what habitswe formed and what ideals we acquired in our teens, because by the timewe were twenty our characters would be developed and the foundation laidfor our whole future life. And she said if the foundation was shaky wecould never build anything really worth while on it. Diana and I talkedthe matter over coming home from school. We felt extremely solemn,Marilla. And we decided that we would try to be very careful indeed andform respectable habits and learn all we could and be as sensible aspossible, so that by the time we were twenty our characters would beproperly developed. It's perfectly appalling to think of being twenty,Marilla. It sounds so fearfully old and grown up. But why was Miss Stacyhere this afternoon?"
"That is what I want to tell you, Anne, if you'll ever give me a chanceto get a word in edgewise. She was talking about you."
"About me?" Anne looked rather scared. Then she flushed and exclaimed:
"Oh, I know what she was saying. I meant to tell you, Marilla, honestlyI did, but I forgot. Miss Stacy caught me reading Ben Hur in schoolyesterday afternoon when I should have been studying my Canadianhistory. Jane Andrews lent it to me. I was reading it at dinner hour,and I had just got to the chariot race when school went in. I was simplywild to know how it turned out--although I felt sure Ben Hur must win,because it wouldn't be poetical justice if he didn't--so I spread thehistory open on my desk lid and then tucked Ben Hur between the desk andmy knee. I just looked as if I were studying Canadian history, you know,while all the while I was reveling in Ben Hur. I was so interested in itthat I never noticed Miss Stacy coming down the aisle until all atonce I just looked up and there she was looking down at me, soreproachful-like. I can't tell you how ashamed I felt, Marilla,especially when I heard Josie Pye giggling. Miss Stacy took Ben Huraway, but she never said a word then. She kept me in at recess andtalked to me. She said I had done very wrong in two respects. First, Iwas wasting the time I ought to have put on my studies; and secondly,I was deceiving my teacher in trying to make it appear I was reading ahistory when it was a storybook instead. I had never realized until thatmoment, Marilla, that what I was doing was deceitful. I was shocked. Icried bitterly, and asked Miss Stacy to forgive me and I'd never do sucha thing again; and I offered to do penance by never so much as lookingat Ben Hur for a whole week, not even to see how the chariot race turnedout. But Miss Stacy said she wouldn't require that, and she forgave mefreely. So I think it wasn't very kind of her to come up here to youabout it after all."
"Miss Stacy never mentioned such a thing to me, Anne, and its only yourguilty conscience that's the matter with you. You have no business to betaking storybooks to school. You read too many novels anyhow. When I wasa girl I wasn't so much as allowed to look at a novel."
"Oh, how can you call Ben Hur a novel when it's really such a religiousbook?" protested Anne. "Of course it's a little too exciting to beproper reading for Sunday, and I only read it on weekdays. And I neverread _any_ book now unless either Miss Stacy or Mrs. Allan thinks it is aproper book for a girl thirteen and three-quarters to read. Miss Stacymade me promise that. She found me reading a book one day called, TheLurid Mystery of the Haunted Hall. It was one Ruby Gillis had lent me,and, oh, Marilla, it was so fascinating and creepy. It just curdled theblood in my veins. But Miss Stacy said it was a very silly, unwholesomebook, and she asked me not to read any more of it or any like it. Ididn't mind promising not to read any more like it, but it was _agonizing_to give back that book without knowing how it turned out. But my lovefor Miss Stacy stood the test and I did. It's really wonderful, Marilla,what you can do when you're truly anxious to please a certain person."
"Well, I guess I'll light the lamp and get to work," said Marilla. "Isee plainly that you don't want to hear what Miss Stacy had to say.You're more interested in the sound of your own tongue than in anythingelse."
"Oh, indeed, Marilla, I do want to hear it," cried Anne contritely. "Iwon't say another word--not one. I know I talk too much, but I am reallytrying to overcome it, and although I say far too much, yet if you onlyknew how many things I want to say and don't, you'd give me some creditfor it. Please tell me, Marilla."
"Well, Miss Stacy wants to organize a class among her advanced studentswho mean to study for the entrance examination into Queen's. She intendsto give them extra lessons for an hour after school. And she came to askMatthew and me if we would like to have you join it. What do you thinkabout it yourself, Anne? Would you like to go to Queen's and pass for ateacher?"
"Oh, M
arilla!" Anne straightened to her knees and clasped her hands."It's been the dream of my life--that is, for the last six months, eversince Ruby and Jane began to talk of studying for the Entrance. But Ididn't say anything about it, because I supposed it would be perfectlyuseless. I'd love to be a teacher. But won't it be dreadfully expensive?Mr. Andrews says it cost him one hundred and fifty dollars to put Prissythrough, and Prissy wasn't a dunce in geometry."
"I guess you needn't worry about that part of it. When Matthew and Itook you to bring up we resolved we would do the best we could for youand give you a good education. I believe in a girl being fitted to earnher own living whether she ever has to or not. You'll always have a homeat Green Gables as long as Matthew and I are here, but nobody knows whatis going to happen in this uncertain world, and it's just as well to beprepared. So you can join the Queen's class if you like, Anne."
"Oh, Marilla, thank you." Anne flung her arms about Marilla's waist andlooked up earnestly into her face. "I'm extremely grateful to you andMatthew. And I'll study as hard as I can and do my very best to be acredit to you. I warn you not to expect much in geometry, but I think Ican hold my own in anything else if I work hard."
"I dare say you'll get along well enough. Miss Stacy says you are brightand diligent." Not for worlds would Marilla have told Anne just whatMiss Stacy had said about her; that would have been to pamper vanity."You needn't rush to any extreme of killing yourself over your books.There is no hurry. You won't be ready to try the Entrance for a year anda half yet. But it's well to begin in time and be thoroughly grounded,Miss Stacy says."
"I shall take more interest than ever in my studies now," said Anneblissfully, "because I have a purpose in life. Mr. Allan says everybodyshould have a purpose in life and pursue it faithfully. Only he sayswe must first make sure that it is a worthy purpose. I would call it aworthy purpose to want to be a teacher like Miss Stacy, wouldn't you,Marilla? I think it's a very noble profession."
The Queen's class was organized in due time. Gilbert Blythe, AnneShirley, Ruby Gillis, Jane Andrews, Josie Pye, Charlie Sloane, and MoodySpurgeon MacPherson joined it. Diana Barry did not, as her parentsdid not intend to send her to Queen's. This seemed nothing short of acalamity to Anne. Never, since the night on which Minnie May had had thecroup, had she and Diana been separated in anything. On the evening whenthe Queen's class first remained in school for the extra lessons andAnne saw Diana go slowly out with the others, to walk home alone throughthe Birch Path and Violet Vale, it was all the former could do to keepher seat and refrain from rushing impulsively after her chum. A lumpcame into her throat, and she hastily retired behind the pages of heruplifted Latin grammar to hide the tears in her eyes. Not for worldswould Anne have had Gilbert Blythe or Josie Pye see those tears.
"But, oh, Marilla, I really felt that I had tasted the bitterness ofdeath, as Mr. Allan said in his sermon last Sunday, when I saw Diana goout alone," she said mournfully that night. "I thought how splendid itwould have been if Diana had only been going to study for the Entrance,too. But we can't have things perfect in this imperfect world, as Mrs.Lynde says. Mrs. Lynde isn't exactly a comforting person sometimes, butthere's no doubt she says a great many very true things. And I think theQueen's class is going to be extremely interesting. Jane and Rubyare just going to study to be teachers. That is the height of theirambition. Ruby says she will only teach for two years after she getsthrough, and then she intends to be married. Jane says she will devoteher whole life to teaching, and never, never marry, because you are paida salary for teaching, but a husband won't pay you anything, and growlsif you ask for a share in the egg and butter money. I expect Jane speaksfrom mournful experience, for Mrs. Lynde says that her father is aperfect old crank, and meaner than second skimmings. Josie Pye says sheis just going to college for education's sake, because she won't have toearn her own living; she says of course it is different with orphans whoare living on charity--_they_ have to hustle. Moody Spurgeon is going tobe a minister. Mrs. Lynde says he couldn't be anything else with a namelike that to live up to. I hope it isn't wicked of me, Marilla, butreally the thought of Moody Spurgeon being a minister makes me laugh.He's such a funny-looking boy with that big fat face, and his littleblue eyes, and his ears sticking out like flaps. But perhaps he willbe more intellectual looking when he grows up. Charlie Sloane says he'sgoing to go into politics and be a member of Parliament, but Mrs. Lyndesays he'll never succeed at that, because the Sloanes are all honestpeople, and it's only rascals that get on in politics nowadays."
"What is Gilbert Blythe going to be?" queried Marilla, seeing that Annewas opening her Caesar.
"I don't happen to know what Gilbert Blythe's ambition in life is--if hehas any," said Anne scornfully.
There was open rivalry between Gilbert and Anne now. Previously therivalry had been rather one-sided, but there was no longer any doubtthat Gilbert was as determined to be first in class as Anne was. He wasa foeman worthy of her steel. The other members of the class tacitlyacknowledged their superiority, and never dreamed of trying to competewith them.
Since the day by the pond when she had refused to listen to his pleafor forgiveness, Gilbert, save for the aforesaid determined rivalry,had evinced no recognition whatever of the existence of Anne Shirley. Hetalked and jested with the other girls, exchanged books and puzzles withthem, discussed lessons and plans, sometimes walked home with one or theother of them from prayer meeting or Debating Club. But Anne Shirleyhe simply ignored, and Anne found out that it is not pleasant to beignored. It was in vain that she told herself with a toss of her headthat she did not care. Deep down in her wayward, feminine little heartshe knew that she did care, and that if she had that chance of the Lakeof Shining Waters again she would answer very differently. All atonce, as it seemed, and to her secret dismay, she found that the oldresentment she had cherished against him was gone--gone just when shemost needed its sustaining power. It was in vain that she recalled everyincident and emotion of that memorable occasion and tried to feelthe old satisfying anger. That day by the pond had witnessed its lastspasmodic flicker. Anne realized that she had forgiven and forgottenwithout knowing it. But it was too late.
And at least neither Gilbert nor anybody else, not even Diana, shouldever suspect how sorry she was and how much she wished she hadn't beenso proud and horrid! She determined to "shroud her feelings in deepestoblivion," and it may be stated here and now that she did it, sosuccessfully that Gilbert, who possibly was not quite so indifferent ashe seemed, could not console himself with any belief that Anne felt hisretaliatory scorn. The only poor comfort he had was that she snubbedCharlie Sloane, unmercifully, continually, and undeservedly.
Otherwise the winter passed away in a round of pleasant duties andstudies. For Anne the days slipped by like golden beads on the necklaceof the year. She was happy, eager, interested; there were lessons to belearned and honor to be won; delightful books to read; new pieces to bepracticed for the Sunday-school choir; pleasant Saturday afternoons atthe manse with Mrs. Allan; and then, almost before Anne realized it,spring had come again to Green Gables and all the world was abloom oncemore.
Studies palled just a wee bit then; the Queen's class, left behind inschool while the others scattered to green lanes and leafy wood cuts andmeadow byways, looked wistfully out of the windows and discovered thatLatin verbs and French exercises had somehow lost the tang and zest theyhad possessed in the crisp winter months. Even Anne and Gilbert laggedand grew indifferent. Teacher and taught were alike glad when the termwas ended and the glad vacation days stretched rosily before them.
"But you've done good work this past year," Miss Stacy told them on thelast evening, "and you deserve a good, jolly vacation. Have the besttime you can in the out-of-door world and lay in a good stock of healthand vitality and ambition to carry you through next year. It will be thetug of war, you know--the last year before the Entrance."
"Are you going to be back next year, Miss Stacy?" asked Josie Pye.
Josie Pye never scrupled to ask que
stions; in this instance the rest ofthe class felt grateful to her; none of them would have dared to askit of Miss Stacy, but all wanted to, for there had been alarming rumorsrunning at large through the school for some time that Miss Stacy wasnot coming back the next year--that she had been offered a positionin the grade school of her own home district and meant to accept. TheQueen's class listened in breathless suspense for her answer.
"Yes, I think I will," said Miss Stacy. "I thought of taking anotherschool, but I have decided to come back to Avonlea. To tell the truth,I've grown so interested in my pupils here that I found I couldn't leavethem. So I'll stay and see you through."
"Hurrah!" said Moody Spurgeon. Moody Spurgeon had never been so carriedaway by his feelings before, and he blushed uncomfortably every time hethought about it for a week.
"Oh, I'm so glad," said Anne, with shining eyes. "Dear Stacy, it wouldbe perfectly dreadful if you didn't come back. I don't believe I couldhave the heart to go on with my studies at all if another teacher camehere."
When Anne got home that night she stacked all her textbooks away in anold trunk in the attic, locked it, and threw the key into the blanketbox.
"I'm not even going to look at a schoolbook in vacation," she toldMarilla. "I've studied as hard all the term as I possibly could and I'vepored over that geometry until I know every proposition in the firstbook off by heart, even when the letters _are_ changed. I just feel tiredof everything sensible and I'm going to let my imagination run riot forthe summer. Oh, you needn't be alarmed, Marilla. I'll only let it runriot within reasonable limits. But I want to have a real good jolly timethis summer, for maybe it's the last summer I'll be a little girl. Mrs.Lynde says that if I keep stretching out next year as I've done thisI'll have to put on longer skirts. She says I'm all running to legs andeyes. And when I put on longer skirts I shall feel that I have to liveup to them and be very dignified. It won't even do to believe in fairiesthen, I'm afraid; so I'm going to believe in them with all my wholeheart this summer. I think we're going to have a very gay vacation. RubyGillis is going to have a birthday party soon and there's the Sundayschool picnic and the missionary concert next month. And Mr. Barry saysthat some evening he'll take Diana and me over to the White Sands Hoteland have dinner there. They have dinner there in the evening, you know.Jane Andrews was over once last summer and she says it was a dazzlingsight to see the electric lights and the flowers and all the lady guestsin such beautiful dresses. Jane says it was her first glimpse into highlife and she'll never forget it to her dying day."
Mrs. Lynde came up the next afternoon to find out why Marilla had notbeen at the Aid meeting on Thursday. When Marilla was not at Aid meetingpeople knew there was something wrong at Green Gables.
"Matthew had a bad spell with his heart Thursday," Marilla explained,"and I didn't feel like leaving him. Oh, yes, he's all right again now,but he takes them spells oftener than he used to and I'm anxious abouthim. The doctor says he must be careful to avoid excitement. That's easyenough, for Matthew doesn't go about looking for excitement by any meansand never did, but he's not to do any very heavy work either and youmight as well tell Matthew not to breathe as not to work. Come and layoff your things, Rachel. You'll stay to tea?"
"Well, seeing you're so pressing, perhaps I might as well, stay" saidMrs. Rachel, who had not the slightest intention of doing anything else.
Mrs. Rachel and Marilla sat comfortably in the parlor while Anne got thetea and made hot biscuits that were light and white enough to defy evenMrs. Rachel's criticism.
"I must say Anne has turned out a real smart girl," admitted Mrs.Rachel, as Marilla accompanied her to the end of the lane at sunset."She must be a great help to you."
"She is," said Marilla, "and she's real steady and reliable now. I usedto be afraid she'd never get over her featherbrained ways, but she hasand I wouldn't be afraid to trust her in anything now."
"I never would have thought she'd have turned out so well that first dayI was here three years ago," said Mrs. Rachel. "Lawful heart, shall Iever forget that tantrum of hers! When I went home that night I says toThomas, says I, 'Mark my words, Thomas, Marilla Cuthbert 'll live torue the step she's took.' But I was mistaken and I'm real glad of it. Iain't one of those kind of people, Marilla, as can never be brought toown up that they've made a mistake. No, that never was my way, thankgoodness. I did make a mistake in judging Anne, but it weren't nowonder, for an odder, unexpecteder witch of a child there never was inthis world, that's what. There was no ciphering her out by the rulesthat worked with other children. It's nothing short of wonderful howshe's improved these three years, but especially in looks. She's a realpretty girl got to be, though I can't say I'm overly partial to thatpale, big-eyed style myself. I like more snap and color, like DianaBarry has or Ruby Gillis. Ruby Gillis's looks are real showy. Butsomehow--I don't know how it is but when Anne and them are together,though she ain't half as handsome, she makes them look kind of commonand overdone--something like them white June lilies she calls narcissusalongside of the big, red peonies, that's what."
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